Urgency

(it’s not just about living. but being alive. – promoted by pfiore8)

There’s no good way to start this essay so I’m just gonna hit the ground running…

Last week I was diagnosed with cancer. It’s an intense feeling to be 23 and knowing you might not see 24 and that the outcome isn’t so much in your hands as it is you’re just gonna have to wing it. Everybody tells me to think positive and I’m trying, but there are going to be good days and bad days. I cried a few times the first day but it was a relief, too; at least I finally knew what I was dealing with. I’d been in the hospital for a couple weeks with tons of symptoms but no diagnosis, so having hard facts and a course of action was a welcome development, even if it was the C-word.

I got the news on Wednesday. I started chemo Friday and finished the first round on Sunday. I was tired on Monday and Tuesday. But today I walked around outside for awhile and it was great. The weather is all grey and dreary but fresh air of any kind is a beautiful thing when you’re stuck inside virtually 24/7. Later my little brothers visited and I saw my mom and dad in the same room for the first time in years. It’s been quite an emotional rollercoaster. I’ve learned a lot in a short time, about myself, other people and life in general.  

The good news is the doctors tell me I have a good chance at recovery; at first they didn’t, but now they say so. We’ll see. The first round of chemo apparently made some headway. Given a little luck and more positive thinking, I feel like I can win. I’ve fought battles before. I was diagnosed with a chronic intestinal disease called ulcerative colitis when I was 18, so I’m used to getting bad news, enduring pain and making serious adjustments. There are two things I know: life isn’t fair, and I’m not lucky. But I am blessed, because all those things most people take for granted, I DON’T.

On that note, here’s a list of things I want to do after spending 3 weeks in the hospital and learning my life clock is shorter than everybody else’s.

Hit whiffle balls in the backyard with my little brothers.

Wear a t-shirt and blue jeans, i.e., clothes that don’t tie in the back.

See the Sierras again.

See the Rockies for the first time.

Visit my relatives in Montana.

Visit my aunt at her new house in Hawaii.

Spend an afternoon with my grandparents, just listening and taking in as much as possible.

Hang out with my friends on a Friday night, even if it’s just to play Rock Band.

See friends I haven’t seen in years.

Meet cool people I’ve only interacted with online.

Publish a novel, preferably the one I was working on before this whole thing happened.

Find work as an honest journalist, ideally music/film related.

Record another album, possibly an actual studio one as opposed to the home-based amateur stuff I’m used to.

Open the door when I sing at home so my Mom can hear, because she’s always asked me to but I never have.

Give my little brothers more guitar lessons.

Jam with my friends.

Go to a Padre game at Petco Park and eat a hot dog with mustard, ketchup and a ton of relish.

Walk in warm rain.

Sleep a full 8 hours in one bloc, in my own bed.

Go camping in the local mountains.

Go several days without getting stuck with a needle or being hooked up to an IV.

Reconnect with activism.

Eat food that isn’t hospital food.

Pet my cats Bandit and Eskimo.

Read Cat’s Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut.

Read Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail by Hunter S. Thompson.

Finish reading the rest of the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams (I’ve read 3 of 5 so far).

Post daily at Lose the Label and make it what it could and should be.

Help Obama get elected, and once he’s there, keep him busy.

Volunteer at this hospital.

And lastly, eat a Filippi’s double meat torpedo sandwich. Which I’m actually doing tomorrow— my dad’s bringing one to me for dinner. It’s gonna be sooooooooo good!

In closing, I suggest you make your own list. You never know when you’re gonna get slammed with bad news and when it happens, you’ll look back at all the time you wasted and all the silly shit you worried about and wonder why. You’ll look at all the things you took for granted and think of how wonderful it’d be to get them back. But mainly you’ll think of all the things you wanted to do and could have done but didn’t… and that’s the real torture.

I hope I have enough time to make a dent in this list. The thing is, even if I don’t, I’m not scared, because living with a chronic disease for 4+ years, I’ve been doing the best I can. Not perfect, but good enough that I’m not too uncomfortable with the possibility of dying. I mean, I’m gonna try not to, of course,..but if it’s my time, I can at least go with grace.

In the meantime, I’m really looking forward to that sandwich.