Champion (Stage III Cancer)

Stage III cancer.

Fuck that noise.  I'm sitting here enjoying a nice shandy beer and having a lazy Sunday afternoon.  I played a nice random map game against AI in Age of Empires II, planned out dinner, and reconnected with an old friend.  And that's just been today.

Last weekend, I learned a different style of bagpipe music on Saturday.  Then proceeded to play said style of music, under false pretenses, to a sizable crowed, at the Cincinnati Museum Center, only to be the lead in on the local news to Kate Middleton's second child.  My buddy and I disrupted the Brass Tap in celebration, and proceeded to celebrate our (almost)6 year relationship.  (THE ARC OF THE MORAL UNIVERSE IS LONG,  BUT IT BENDS TOWARDS JUSTICE!!!!)

In the last week, I've promoted change and empowered individuals to take charge of their own lives, ending the cycle of addiction and domestic violence.  I've mowed my lawn, taken construction waste to the dump, taken the steps to officially join a congregation, and spent time outside with my dog.

I made a completely vegetarian dinner.

I'm getting a Port placement done on Tuesday and starting Chemotherapy in a week and one day.  And I've honestly never felt better.

The support and compassion that has been extended to me in the last week has been humbling.  And, before this is all over I know I'm going to ask for help from those who have offered it.

But it does not control my life.  The Saturday before, May 2nd, I'm going to support a friend of mine as she runs a half marathon.  That evening, I'm going to sing some karaoke music at my third place.

When you are going through Hell, don't even stop to take pictures.  The memories of the struggle itself will fade, not who it has made me.  The lectures I've sat through during my treatment, I'll forget.  But the little nuggets of wisdom remain.

I knock on the door.  I do not wait for my own fate to be decided for me.  "I am the one who knocks."