There is a Taoist story of an old farmer who had worked his crops for many years. One day his horse ran away. Upon hearing the news, his neighbors came to visit. “Such bad luck,” they said sympathetically.
“Maybe,” the farmer replied.
The next morning the horse returned, bringing with it three other wild horses. “How wonderful,” the neighbors exclaimed.
“Maybe,” replied the old man.
The following day, his son tried to ride one of the untamed horses, was thrown, and broke his leg. The neighbors again came to offer their sympathy on his misfortune.
“Maybe,” answered the farmer.
The day after, military officials came to the village to draft young men into the army. Seeing that the son’s leg was broken, they passed him by. The neighbors congratulated the farmer on how well things had turned out.
“Maybe,” said the farmer.
Well, a lot has happened during the last 24 hours.
The plan that we thought was in order was turned on its head after my biopsy and lumbar puncture since it was discovered that there were leukemic blasts in my spinal fluid. So that was a big what the fuck. Really threw me into a tail spin of darkness and, quite frankly, hopelessness.
Now, I keep that Taoist story in mind. But, for the sake of talking about yesterday, I’ll explain what went down and how I felt about it at the time.
There was a lot of vulgarity (no surprise there!) and anger– it feels like when it rains it pours and that I can never catch a fucking break. The discovery of the fucked up spinal fluid put off the chemo regimen that they had planned for me, as they wanted to get a grasp on fixing my spinal fluid before advancing to the rest of my treatment. To do so, I had to undergo a MRI to determine whether or not the fucker cells had gathered in my brain.
You can imagine that was not exactly what I wanted to hear. The idea of having the cancer cells gather in my brain was pretty fucking terrifying, and not really something that I had even considered as a possibility (I mean, having cancer at all is fucked up enough; how much worse could it get? The Answer: pretty much a lot fucking worse. So while having cancer at all sucks complete and total ass, I suppose it could always be worse).
Well, with the dawn of the new day came new information.
The MRI scans came back clear!!!!!!! Fuckin’ HELL YEAH! And, it also turns out that the blast that they found in my spinal fluid were found only after the fluid was spun out completely (you know, when they put stuff in those science-y spinny do-dads to accomplish science-y things with… science). This means that I’m in a good category for killing off those fuckin’ hosers (Canadian term, look it up if you don’t know what that means) before they cause too much of an issue– so that’s a beauty right thurr! On top of that, they decided to move my next lumbar puncture (LP) to Friday as opposed to Thursday and to start my chemo today!! This is great because it will sucker-punch all those shitty-ass cancer punks right in the GOD DAMN face before they have anymore time to flood my system with their tomfoolery.
I’m feeling pretty confident knowing that treatment it going to start up today. I think I’m always going to be an anxious ball of nerves– at least under the surface– but I am feeling good about this. Not excited about how shitty I’ll be feeling in the next few days, but I’d rather feel shitty from chemo than shitty from, you know, having my system flooded with shitty-ass cancer cells AKA DYING. Nothing seems so bad when compared to that alternative; not when you’re as stubborn and as determined to live as I am. I’ve got a lot of life left to live, and I intend to kick this cancer to the CURB. I must have been too gentle with it the last time I beat its ass, so this time… this time I’m taking no prisoners. I’m fucking it up FOR GOOD.
Moral of this portion of the story?