Today is my fourth treatment. I'm typing this as I am getting my oxaliplatin. Pretty exiting being a third of the way there! Not sure what ‘there’ is. But I am on my way. This morning as I was getting my labs done my port wasn’t cooperating. Oh, by the way, I have a port in my chest now. It’s surgically implanted and is attached to a major blood vessel. It’s where they draw blood from and infuse me with chemo. You can see it when I have my shirt off. You know how in cartoons

It was December of 1994, the night of the Wade Hampton High School’s Winter Choral Concert, and I was running late. As usual. Now for the first 16 years of my life pretty much every day, without fail, I had brushed my hair. You know, like normal people. I woke up, I showered, brushed it to the side got everything perfectly in place. Like this: But on this night in December of 1994 I was rushing around like crazy trying to get to the concert on time. I hopped out of the shower

I’m getting another MRI two weeks from today. My last MRI cost $13,000 but since I am WAY past my deductible that one goes right to the insurance company. I’m thinking about sending them a thank you card with the front saying ‘Thanks bra” and then when you open it up it’s a picture of me in a Bro-Romper. I feel like that would cheer them up. A picture of me living my best life. For those who haven't had the pleasure of getting an MRI, let me set the scene: you get into this g

I spent the better part of last week at home. I think. I don’t own any land or have any children so home for me is more of an ethereal question. I was at my parent’s house in Greenville finishing up a book on legal marketing I’ve been ghostwriting for the past year. I still refer to that house as home even though I haven’t lived there in 21 years. I’m not sure why I call it that? I didn’t even live there all that long. We moved in when I was 13 and I left five years later. I

“How you doing?” That is a question all of us get all the time. It’s only a formality. The only appropriate answer is “Fine.” Can you imagine going into work, seeing the person in the cubicle next to you, saying “how you doing” and they actually answer you? You’re standing there like “oh, this is horrible, this person thinks I care about them.” One of the side effects of having cancer is that now when people ask me how I’m doing they actually seem to want to know the answer.

One of the side effects of chemo is a fanny pack. That’s right…a fanny pack. I get three different bags of medicine. Avastin is first, that drips for ten minutes. Then there is the oxaliplatin. That goes for two hours. Then I get the 5FU and that goes for 46 hours. Which means when I go home I'm still hooked up to my IV. Since I can’t be hooked up to a pole for two days, the bag of 5FU lives in a fanny pack. The first few hours are fine. After chemo I feel like I have the flu

If there is a heaven, they’ve definitely got a waffle iron. Yesterday was my grandmother’s funeral. It was lovely. I know that’s a weird thing to say. Like a pleasant traffic jam or a functional Trump presidency. But it was. Lovely. And grandma would have approved. There were seven priests presiding over the mass for goodness sakes. She would have liked that. It was nice being at a funeral that didn’t feel tragic. She was 97, had almost all of her mental faculties, and died i

It’s amazing how quickly things become normal. Today was the first day I went to chemo by myself. My mom was going to come with me this time but since her mother died she had to go home and my girlfriend was working so I headed over to Emory by myself. Also-side bar: One thing I’ve noticed about having cancer and my grandmother dying -I could literally get out of anything right now. It’s kind of a shame I work for myself and can’t take full advantage of it. Me: Sorry boss, it

So this is the story I was told. Some of the details may be a little off, but you’ll get the gist of it. In 1937 an Arizona man walked into his local store to pick up the Denver Post. He got the Denver Post every day but for some reason, on that particular afternoon, they were out of them. So he picked up the Fort Wort h Star Telegram. When he got to the classified section he saw an advertisement that must have stopped him in his tracks. The ad said there was unclaimed land f

One of the side effects of my cancer treatment has been an obsession with looking at Zillow. Being brought face to face with the ethereal nature of life has made me want to plant roots and own things. Like it can ward off disease or something. Like I can say: Me: Ah ah ah cancer, you can’t have me because I have a mortgage. Death: What??! I thought you were still renting. Me: Nope. Death: Oh, well I’m sorry to waste your time. Me: We’re still finishing this game of chess, rig