Creative Writing...

I remember rubbing my hand against the protective paper over the medical examination chair. the doctor was talking, but I was barely listening to him. The sound my hand made against the paper was the sound of waves crashing on the shore in Monmouth Beach on a mid-summer day.

I envisioned myself on that beach. She was in a chair to my right putting on some tanning lotion. I smiled and said I was going to take a dip in the water. Of course I asked her if she wanted to come, but she said no as she usually does. "The waves could gobble me up and swallow me. I'm just a little itty-bitty!"

"So, in other words, there is no way that I can confidently tell you how long I believe you have left to live, because cancer is such an individual disease. Some people have the smallest of lesions and don't last more than a few months and others have very bad cases and end up having a nice quality of living for a long time."

I didn't like how often he referred to the term quality of living. As if feeling sick every day, being bald, throwing up, being too tired to do anything was any type of living besides a shitty kind. Was it supposed to make me feel better that every so often he treated someone that had a pretty bad case who made it more than a few years. I didn't want to delay the disease. I wanted to get rid of it. I can hear him talking over the thoughts in my head. What was that? He has treated someone as young as 19 years old who had a stage IIIa disease...

"How long did his 'quality of life' last, Doc? Is he still with us?"

"I'm not really able to discuss other patients with you."

I didn't think so. I don't want to be in this room right now. The worst thing is that I have about 10 people out there in the waiting room waiting for me to go out there and say, "You know what? They made a mistake. I'm just perfectly fine," but I'm not perfectly fine. I'm perfectly fucked. I can't say that I'm particularly angry at anyone. I can't really say that I don't deserve this. I think it's just pretty much something that happens and this time it has happened to me. What is it going to be like for my parents to have to bury their son? That's not the way it's supposed to go.

How can I look into the eyes of the lady I love and tell her that everything is going to be okay when the other doctors aren't sure if I'm going to make it out of August?

I just have to keep everything together. Don't let them worry about you more than they already are worrying. If the worst happens at least you won't be around to have to watch your loved ones cry. If anythign else happens just tell yourself it could always be worse...

I don't want to die right now. I want to marry her. I want to have kids. I want to see my brother's kids. I want to be a best man. I want to be an uncle. I want to graduate college. I want to see the Grand Canyon. I want to see Niagra Falls. I want to own my own business. I want to be a grandfather someday. I want, I want, I want...

Did he just say that I should consider freezing my sperm? Well, thanks, Doc. That sure as shit made it awkward with my parents in the room. I'm not going to be able to have kids! There might be some people that think that's better off though. I guess I will just have to wait and...

"Yeah... Thanks, Doc... I know... Okay, two weeks, can't wait...Bye."

"Are you okay, Son?"

"Let's just go. I want to get out of here."

I want to have a cigarette. I want a stiff drink. I want to get wasted and stop having these terrible thoughts in my head. I don't want to keep imagining lying in a bed with everyone around me crying and concerned. I just want to go to that party tonight where nobody knows and I don't have to keep dealing with it...

"No, honey, everything was fine... The doctor is very optimistic... We aren't sure yet. I have to coem back in two weeks...Yes, I still want to go to Justin's... No, I promise, I won't drink or have a cigarette... You're right. I am lying. Maybe just a few cigarettes."

That's it. I never want to see that look in her eyes again. You tell her it's going to be okay and then make sure that it's going to be okay. Make a promise to yourself right here. Be the exception to the rule. Be the one who writes the statistics, rather than the one that follows them. Don't lose the faith. What did Mickey used to tell Rocky in the movies? 'You're a machine. A machine. Put your head down. Keep moving forward. Run right through 'em!' That's what I'm going to do. Accept everything that happens, but never fold your hand. Break them and keep breaking them as long as they let you. The world doesn't owe you anything. It has no reason to take it easy on you. But you don't owe the world anything either. Who says you have to take it easy and just lay aside while the black hole sucks you in and tears you apart? You have two options: live or die. You can attack life and do it the right way for whatever time you have left, or you can lay back and let life happen to you. Attack. It's what you have always done. Go for the throat. Keep moving forward. Run right through it. Run right over it. It's not over until every bone in your body is broken and every muscle inside is torn apart. Let the world come after you and try and take you - death isn't and option, it's an inevitability - but you give the world the toughest fight it's ever had. Don't give up.

The birds are twittering outside of the window. My leg is super hot for some reason. I just had a weird dream. Death was attacking me. I kept jumping out of the way of the sickle. I pushed him off the cliff. But he told me that more would come after me. And keep coming until I'm the one who falls... I'm staring at my wall. I can hear birds and feel warmth and I can see my wall. It's been over a month. 'What now, CANCER!' Fuck it. I'm done. I'm done worrying. I'm done with all the darkness. I'm done with the waiting. I'm done with it all. I just want to go on. It's going to be tough. Forever. It will never be the same again. But I'm going to spend my life doing my best to make everything exactly the same.

I'll leave you with these two thoughts about pushing yourself to the extreme and giving all your body can muster up:

"Somebody may beat me, but they are going to have to bleed to do it." - Steve Prefontaine
"To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the Gift." - Steve Prefontaine

I don't know what my "Gift" is... but I know that I'm ready to bleed.