Stimulate Me...

The United States government in the last six months has spent somewhere near 1.5 trillion on stimulus packages to defribrillate the flat-lined economy. And we aren't talking about Russian rubles. That's grade-A American minted dollars. I really don't even mind the inclusion of pork or earmarks in the bills. they want to toss a billions of dollars at big businesses and banks that mismanaged themselves and have no accountability for it, all the while sneaking in money for parks, environment preservation, etc., that's fine by me. I do not even take issue with adding money to pay people to hand out birth control or to fund anti-smoking campaigns. Do it. I don't care. Maybe it will help to stimulate the economy. Every financial advisor and economist agrees that the best way to stimulate the economy is for people to feel comfortable enough to start to spend. The disagreement is to what is the best means to acheiving the level of comfortability necessary to loosen the pockets, but people are the backbone of capitalism.

So this makes me question why federal medical research funding has increasingly been cut. Billions of dollars spent to line the pockets of millionaires, and less money left to help keep more people around. I congratulate Barack Obama for trying to issue health care to more people. It's a tragedy that so many people are walking around without the ability to go see a doctor or a dentist. These people delay needed procedures because they cannot afford medical insurance or they are unable to be accepted for medical insurance. And the largest population without medical insurance is under the age of 40. Good, extend insurance. But, uh, Mr. President, maybe you could also try and help some people live a little bit longer by putting a little pit of that pork spending into medical research. If people spending money will help stimulate the economy, then I can only rationally conclude that more people spending more money will help stimulate the economy more quickly. Admittedly, I'm not an economist nor a mathematician nor a politician, but, the government has a de facto responsibility to help it's citizens since they are elected officials, and perhaps keeping those citizens alive in order that they may be helped is more important than nationalizing banks so that corporate executives do not have to travel coach rather than first class.

So, what am I trying to get at? The National Cancer Institute (NCI) is a federal funded entity that has a wide range of responsibilities, such as researching new and innovative drugs, therapies, and theories for all types of cancer. In 2007, the NCI spent a total of $4.80 billion dollars on cancer research of the major cancers. Stomach cancer, globally recognized as one of the deadliest forms of cancer, and categorized by it's little varied issuance of poor prognoses, received $12.0 MILLION of the reported $4.80 BILLION made available by the government. Not to mention, the $12 million dollars is down from the $13.4 million distributed in 2003. This is to contrast with the recipient who received the largest portion of the government offerings, Breast cancer research, at $572.4 million dollars.

Breast Cancer - 12% of government funding
Stomach Cancer - 0.25% of government funding

Keep in mind that even the total amount funded by the government of $4.80 billion is only 0.60% of the total money that was just passed out in the last stimulus bill (0.32% is you count Bush's last stimulus bill as well). Forget it. Even Breast cancer, which received the most funding has only 0.07% of all the monies given out in just President Obama's stimulus package. I don't even want to do the math for stomach cancer. Let's put the pink ribbons on our cars and participate in the March of Dimes and all of the wonderful charities, but do not think that breast cancer, testicular cancer, lymphoma, leukemia, and lung cancer are the only cancers that exist.

My point is that if you aren't going to spend the cheese to try and keep people alive for the long haul, then what exactly are we doign here? I'm going to die eventually that's fine and so are you. But how many more people after us are going to die unnecessarily because of our irresponsible spending today. Why can't we get all the types of cancer AT LEAST to the level of breast cancer? If you don't want me alive, then don't tell me that you want to fund smoking cessation programs and build parks to preserve this "Great Nation of Ours", because my mind can't comprehend that hypocritic, non-sensical, flat out insulting, equivocating bullshit.

(We do have a fundraiser going right now and if you would like more information on how you can help contact me at amsamuel6@gmail.com)

"All things are subject to interpretation; whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is a functions of power and not truth." - Friedrich Nietzsche

An Honest Hypothetical and True Interview That Never Happened With James Lipton From Inside the Actors Studio...

JAMES LIPTON: Okay. So you're twenty-one. You're in college. Now you have cancer and you're told that you probably won't make it through the summer. You look to your left and there are your parents. You look to your right and there is your girlfriend, who you want to spend the rest of your life with. What's happening in your mind?
ANDREW SAMUEL: It's a surreal event. The never-ending back-and-forth between what has always been reality and what is your new reality. You try and find a ledge jutting out to grab hold of, but you realize that the whole wall is smooth. Then you beginning slipping down towards a very dark area.

JL: I can only imagine that it's at that time that you really huddle in close around family and friends so they can help you out.
AS: You know, friends and family are great in the way they try and help you out and a good support system is important. The truth is though, that at that time you just really feel alone. And you are. Because you don't want to hurt the people close to you by making them worry more than they already do, if that's even possible. But you kind of feel like you are trapped inside of your own dark thoughts. Try as they might, friends and family cannot pull you out of the hole that you are in.
JL: Then how are they important?
AS: That first hole you fall into is unavoidable. I think you have to go into the darkness in order to come out and see all the goodness you still have left, for however long you have it left for. So your family and friends can do nothing to get you out of it. And I believe it is important in any tragedy to allow yourself to fall into the darkness and to accept all the truths that come with the tragic event. 'You have cancer' and you deal with all the consequences that arrive from that situation. 'A loved one has passed away' and you deal with those consequences. But you can only deal with all the real consequences that arise from a situation if deal with the circumstances up front and completely. So, I think the fall into darkness is good.
The friends and family are amazing because they can keep you from falling back into the hole after you have climbed out the first time. They can also be a reason for you to try and even climb out in the first place. That is extremely important. Immeasurable. Once all my stength and energy are all used up and I have dragged my decaying body as far as I can, my loved ones step in at just the right time to carry me until I gain my energy back.
JL: Who have been the people there for you the most?
AS: Well I would have to say my fiancee who dealt with a whole hell of a lot more than a lot of women in her position would have. And I think it's critical to mention that Katie (fiancee) and my mom have been to every appointment I have had in two and a half years. But you cannot limit the influence everyone else has had on me as well From people I see everyday to people who I don't talk to but once a year. Every word really fuels the fire.
JL: What's the worst thing about cancer?
AS: The thoughts that come into your mind and you cannot block.
JL: What's the worst thought?
AS: That when I die, I'll have disappointed more often in my life than I have pleased. That I'll have let people down
JL: What do you want people to to know about cancer and about the people that are afflicted with the disease?
AS: First, people with cancer are identical to people without cancer, so don't treat them differently. Second, humans are like babies. When we bump our heads, if everyone starts to jump up and make a hoop-lah, we will start to get worried and cry. On the other hand, if everyone remains steadfast and continues life (even while recognizing the unfortunate event) we will carry on dressing up Barbie or waging war with G.I. Joe's against Cobra Command.
JL: What is the best piece of advice you can give someone in your situation?
AS: I think it is the same advice I would give anyone who didn't like the way there life was going, either from tragedy or anything: "If you do not change the direction in which you are going, you will end up where you are headed." - Confucius
JL: And now we turn to our questions...
What is your favorite word?
AS: Revolution
JL: What is your least favorite word?
AS: Cannot.
JL: What turns you on creatively, spiritually, or emotionally?
AS: The attempt to laugh... Hard.
JL: What turns you off?
AS: Giving up.
JL: What is your favorite curse word?
AS: Fuck.
JL: What sound or noise do you love?
AS: Laughing so hard it doesn't make a sound.
JL: What sound or noise do you hate?
AS: Muffled tears.
JL: What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
AS: Chef/Restaurateur
JL: What profession would you not like to do?
AS: Politician
JL: If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?
AS: Thank you for always trying to find the joke in everything...

"Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadow. It's what sunflowers do." - Helen Keller

Have you ever seen the movie "The Shawshank Redemption"? In the movie, Morgan Freeman's character talks about how prisoners who are in the jail long enough no longer want to be freed. They have been behind bars for so long that it is the only thing they know and they need the prison. They become institutionalized. Our belief that prisoners behind the jail bars want to be released and live among us outside of the jail bars is subjective, none of us knows what it's like to be behind bars so long that the bars begin to feel like home.

It's a funny thing about cancer that so many people swear by the disease teaching them and showing them and enlightening them and yet there is not a single patient who wishes that he maintain his disease. Each person ever to experience cancer, either directly or indirectly, wishes that they never had - whether they are still alive or have since left us. I do not think it is very difficult to see why.

Of all the things in my life, I never thought I would be known for being sick. I never thought people would remember me for almost (hopefully) dying. There are a lot of ways that I would choose to define myself, but none of those ways could ever replace what I will undoubtedly be known best for: having cancer. Lance Armstrong won seven consecutive Tour de France races - SEVEN - and I still think that he is better known for having had cancer. The man accomplished something in sports that had never happened and likely never will again. As for his cancer, people have overcome more difficult circumstances than he did. Even so, his cancer is more famous than he is. And the man was a world-class cyclist before cancer was even a whisper on his lips.

The hardened, rough cinder blocks barricade me in on three sides, above, and below. The steel bars close in the fourth side. Those metalic Ventian blinds open and close, the visual ebb and flow of what once was and what is to be. I can press my face between two bars, release my body weight, and hope to slip through the cracks, but this leaves a mark. My arms slide through the cracks and rest on the "outside" of the cell even though my body remains incarcerated. I oscillate - mentally, physically, and visually - between where I am and where I wish to be. If only it were a solid door, so that the sight of freedom would not tantalize the will and parch the soul. My body is separated - limb from base, mind from body, healthy from sick. A human jigsaw of adjacent opposites. Black borders white while good borders bad and dying touches living.

I am not a part of the prison. I am not institutionalized. I may have forgotten what it feels like to be on the outside, but I have not forgotten that being on the outside is where I want to be. I will accept my temporal seclusion because freedom lies up ahead. I have adapted to my cell, because adaptation means survival. The prison does not hold me, I hold the prison, and so I will learn to control my environment.

"Complete adaptation to environment means death. The essential point in all response is the desire to control environment." - John Dewey

They Day Before Tomorrow...

"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars." - Oscar Wilde

Like an enlarged phallus, I lied upon the board and pleasured the General Electric Lightspeed VCT as best I could for a whole seven minutes. I was the proverbial hot dog thrown down the CT machine's hallway, not even grazing the sides of the gaping void, which I entered and exited at will.

I felt like I was in a Taiwanese bordello as I was greeted amicably at the door, filled out paperwork, and was given a drinkt o sip while waiting for my turn. I, however, was drinking what they call "Gastroview" a mixture of water, diet raspberry Crystal Lite, and some chemical in order to make my veins more visible during the scan. I imagined it to be a Sammy Sosa, though - a drink that Katie and I seemed to enjoy while we vacationed in the Dominican Republic last year. I remained tranquil while I sipped my beverage and read about how the auto industry is asking for yet another 13 billion dollars.

My name was called and I was taken to the back where I was instructed to strip down and put a gown on - gown facing forward. Not to worry, my helper put me to rest by telling me that I only had to remove my hat, my sweater, my undershirt, and my pants, but that I could leave on my undies, socks, and shoes. Thank goodness! How embarassing would it be to be peered at through a glass window while by numerous males and females if I couldn't have my socks on? I was then taken into yet another room where a very kind, Latin male nurse sadistically pierced my skin and decided to tape up my hairy arms while giggling, "Oops. Oh my sir, you have, like, too much too much hair." Oh my.

And then I see it. That big old hunk of plastic and the chill of air conditioning needed to keep the machine running. Yes I would like a warm blanket, thank you very much. It's time for me to lay down and get my money's worth out of this bad boy. Arms over my head, legs slightly bent, I'm slowly glided into and out of the hole under the instructions, "Take a deep breath... Hold it... Breathe." Like a college frat boy, I use the machine for my benefit only and I never stop to wonder, "Was it good for the Lightspeed?" What does it get out of all of this?

It is my familiar friend, though, no matter how latently sexual it all seems on a grand scale. I have received myriad scans - CT, PET, MRI. Each machine deciding the next however many months of my life. Will they be good or will they be bad? It all depends on what pictures these machines decide to take of my insides. It's no use being nervous while passing through the wide opening that spins around you, violating your organs, snapping pictures of them from their bad sides - their cancer sides. There is no reason to get flustered when the contrast dye is injected into your veins and you feel the warmth course through the arm raised over your head, then to the back of your throat, proceeding to cause a distinguishable feeling of heat throughout your body and to each extremity, finally settling in the violating, uncomfortable ring around your bottom-side forcing you to try and determine whether or not you just embarrassed yourself in front of everyone behind that window.

Tomorrow I go back to the chemotherapy after nearly a month and a half off of treatment. My schedule goes to every week as opposed to the every two weeks I did before. I'll tell you: I'm not looking forward to the upcoming gauntlet. Every week? Every Thursday from tomorrow until who knows when. But remember the thorn bush is full of roses, not the other way around. Tomorrow starts the unmitigating difficulties of treatment, but on some other tomorrow, in the future, starts the first steps of recovery.

Life will always be happy while we continue to have tomorrows. I have too much to be happy about - too much to look forward to - to stop believing that tomorrow is always a new day.

"He who has a why to live can bear almost any how." - Friedrich Nietzsche

"Thought" in Black and White...

"Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why." - Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five

Trafalmadorians are aliens from another universe that believe that the earthly and, consequentially, human perception of time and space is significantly flawed. By earthly perception, I mean to say the socially accepted version of time and space - linear view point of space and linear progression of time. The understanding of the space-time continuum on Trafalmadore is that all time - past, present, and futue - is present now. They say that we view time similar to someone on top of Mount Everest looking at the top of Mount Everest. That is, they can only see what is immediately visible to them, also known as the present. The Trafalmadorians, on the other hand, view time the way that one might look at the Himalayan mountain range, and thus Mount Everest, from a distance. At such a view point, one would be able to see everything that is before Mount Everest and everything that is after Mount Everest, also known as the past, present, and future.

Maybe that mass encased by the green box is still in there. I mean, it did happen it was there at one time. Maybe that gruesome mass was never there. Maybe it simultaneously is not there, has never been there, is there, and will always be there. Maybe. Some quantum physicists maintain that there are an infinite number of universes in which every conceivable version of "reality" exists. So, on some alternate universe John McCain is the president, on another Al Gore won the 2000 election, on another Ross Perot is now our president, and on still another Michael Moore is the ubermensch totalian dictator of the Western Hemisphere. In essence, every possible way life could be, it is... somewhere.

Maybe.

I like the Trafalmadorian version better. When they see a dead corpse, they view that individual as existing in a bad condition, but that they are still very much alive in the past. They also believe that everyone has the capacity to see this person at that time when they were still alive. It is our choice at which point we choose to view the story. Either we can come in at the happy parts or we can come in at the sad parts.

I think myself a non-fictional Billy Pilgrim. You see, Billy Pilgrim was the main protagonist in a book about a guy writing a book about Billy Pilgrim's life which happened to take place during World War II. That book is "Slaughterhouse V." And in that book, Billy Pilgrim becomes "unstuck in time" after being abducted by the Trafalmadorians and forced to live in a zoo on Trafalmadore. I don't think I am unstuck in time as it were, but I definitely think that our conception of time is, at the very least, misguided. It's my thought that objectively (for whatever can be defined as objective knowledge) time moves forward in a progression like a string of beads, one after the other. I think, however, that psychologically (and, in effect, all that truly matters in the world is what takes place between our ears) we can be everywhere and no where depending on what we choose to look at with our memories.

When we lay on our death beds, I find it difficult to believe that we will step-by-step go through the chronological and linear progression of our lives. I do not think I will say that when I was five I did such-and-such, and when I was six I did thus-and-so. I do not believe that I will say that when I was 30 I made this much money and worked on these accounts, cases, jobs, etc. No, rather life (at least the way we remember it) is a fluid and organic recollection of relevant memories. When I lay on my death bed I will not remember my life chronologically, I will think of my life the way one would look at the Himalayan mountain range from afar: I will be able to see the whole thing from start to finish, though only some important parts will distinguish themselves in my mind. And I believe that I will choose to focus on the peaks rather than the valleys, the good times rather than the bad.

"All time is all time. It does not change. It does not lend itself to warnings or explanations. It simply is. Take it moment by moment, and you will find that we are all, as I've said before, bugs in amber." - Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five

...The clear MRI rather than the one with the golf ball sized tumor in it...

The Force is Strong in You...

“Life is thickly sown with thorns, and I know no other remedy than to pass quickly through them. The longer we dwell on our misfortunes, the greater is their power to harm us.” – Voltaire

If something is inspirational then it must burn a fire deep inside you and make you want to changes your approach to life. More than just wanting to change it, an inspiration actually makes you change your life. I have seen the horrors of cancer, not from looking in the mirror, but rather from looking at the rest of the world; through those horrors I have seen the truly inspirational. It is not inspirational to simply endure a difficult time; rather, in order to be inspirational, I think the trial must be pitiable, but also be so profound that it shakes the souls of those who observe and call them to change their lives.

My first surgery was in the summer of 2006 to implant my mediport in my right chest and to perform a laparoscopy of my lung. While in the waiting to be taken back to have an IV placed into my arm, I had my eye on a little girl. She was no more than four years old, and she was balder than a cue ball. She had no hair, no eyelashes, no eyebrows and piercing baby blue eyes. She smiled at me and turned back to her coloring book in which she was making an interesting looking duck with a brown beak, purple and red feathers, black feet, and, fittingly, baby blue eyes. Then my heart broke. She tried to get at a certain angle to color in the clouds yellow and the IV tube in her arm that flowed back and was attached to a seven-foot wheeled stand filled with chemicals wiggled the needle in her arm and she yelped in pain and her eyes got teary. She did not cry, she turned to her mom and asked if they could take it out of her arm – just for a little bit, Mommy – because, in her words, “I just want to color my duck.” That, my friends, is inspirational. I thought that I would never be able to live with myself if I let my cancer beat me down. How can anyone call me strong when there are super-hero toddlers as strong as this young lady?

Life with cancer is exactly like life without it: some days you feel good and some days you don’t, sometimes you feel like doing stuff and other times you don’t, and life can always end in the blink of an eye, but the way you look at life can make you live forever. It’s an inspiration when a person hits a road block that seems impossible to overcome while on their path in life, and that person at least makes an effort. Success and failure, victory and defeat, life and death lay in the hands of the gods, so let us take pride in the effort. It doesn’t matter the outcome, but only that we try. I learned this from an aunt of mine who was and always will be truly inspirational.

Whatever the struggle, whatever the task, inspiration is born of the people who have an affinity for succeeding no matter the task. Inspiration arises from the simplistic decision to be resolute and to strive to achieve the task. Bells and whistles are not necessary. The child on the fifth floor of the burning building that one runs to save is not what makes the man inspirational; rather, he is an inspiration because of the quiet manner in which he saw the path he had to take and was steadfast in his pursuit of the goal, not allowing the obstacles that tried to keep him from completing his goal to deter him from making the attempt. The struggle of cancer, like the struggle in every circumstance of life, is a matter of knowing where you are, visualizing where you want to be, evaluating what the necessary steps are to travel that pathway, and then completing the steps. Or more simply put:

“Begin at the beginning and go on ‘til you come to the end; then stop.” –Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

We will always lose every battle that we think we will lose; there is no way around that. I think the point of this post, and the message to be taken in life, is simple, elementary even: Just keep coloring the duck, and make it look however you want it to look.

“Do or do not… there is no try.” – Yoda, Star Wars

This is the worst box of chocolates that I've ever had to force down my throat...

“Momma always said dyin’ was a part of life. I sure wish it wasn’t… I don’t know if momma was right or if, if it’s Lieutenant Dan. I don’t know if we each have a destiny, or if we’re all just floating around accidental-like on a breeze, but I, I think maybe it’s both.” – Forrest Gump (1994)

Here is the million-dollar question: what makes things happen the way that they do? Do we determine every step of our lives with every choice or action no matter how big or small? Are the paths of our lives predetermined rendering us incapable of altering or changing the course of events? These are the two extremes. Then, there is the middle ground – the infinite “Golden Mean” – in which many of us forms our ideologies of causality in the world. A lot of people want to know how things are allowed to happen, and why they have to happen. Some people ask themselves, very much like Forrest, why people have to die. I think the error in asking this is that we focus our attention to the result – the end – rather than on the process of getting there – the means.

Society seems like an end-result entity, tending to focus on where we end up, rather than how we get there. I think life, as it is itself transient, is made of a much more ephemeral composition. The end, the destination, is ever-lasting, which gives me no information about anything that came before it. For instance, if I look at the arithmetic equation “2+2=4,” I can observe that “4” is the result, or the sum as it were while “2+2” is the method of getting to the result. Which half of the equation tells you the important stuff? If we continue as we seem to be going already, then the result – 4 – would be the important part. On its own, however, “4” explains nothing of any substance. Is it 1+3, 2+2, 2X2, 16/4, 22? On the other hand, “2+2” actually explains something that can be ingested and understood. “2+2” can only equal four. Furthermore, it tells us exactly what steps were taken in order to reach four. In essence, we understand something intrinsic about “4” by knowing that it came to be through “2+2.”

So what’s my point? On the level of the individual, life has a starting point and it has an ending point and it would appear that neither of these points explains anything significant about the individual. It is rather everything that happens in between those two points that are of substance. Case in point, he was born February 12, 1809 in Kentucky and died April 14, 1865 in Maryland. I know nothing about this man other than a small amount of useless facts. When I examine the space in between these two points, the space composed of this man’s actions, I will know something about him. The process of this man’s life will determine whether or not he is to be remembered. This man was Abraham Lincoln.

Watching “Forrest Gump” for the first time in a long while the other night made me rethink the quotation from the movie at the top of this post. Whether the movie focused on personal inadequacies, reckless life decisions, abusive childhoods, unfortunate circumstances, and even death, it would appear that the narrative arc visible throughout the movie was that despite it all, you must keep going forward because we can never understand today until we see tomorrow. We just have to remember that the way something ends has nothing to do with what that something means. Life is a hard thing, but it’s all about perspective:

“When it is dark enough, you can see the stars." – Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Instead of complaining that the rosebush is full of thorns, be happy that the thorn bush has roses.” - Proverb

The Living-Dead...

Unbeknownst to me, I died at some point during 2006. On January 1, 2006 statistics were calculated by various organizations who intimated that during the course of 2006 approximately 1.4 million people would receive a new cancer diagnosis and roughly 565,000 would die from cancer. That is nearly two million people for those who excel at discerning spatial relations, but fail at basic arithmetic. Determining my unique diagnosis and adding to it my less than favorable prognosis would have lead almost all cancer experts to determine that I would die before 2007. Be that as it may, I assure you that I am indeed writing this blog today February 6, 2009. I may, however, be writing as a resurrected being. That situation has not been determined as of yet.

In any event, I’m alive, which seems a trivial statement out of context. I assume that you, who are reading this, are similarly alive. For me, though, that statement means something special. It means something especially since at one point I was dead. There is something altogether skin-crawling about hearing the eerily calm voice of a doctor, after having read your record, telling you, “It’s a surprise to see you alive still.” I would think that surprises are not exactly good things when dealing with cancer, but I sure do feel mighty special every time I can make some doctor give himself a chuckle. I do like to respond saying, “I’m glad I can hang around long enough to pay for your kids’ college tuition.” Then the sadistic son-of-a-bitch wants to slice me open and look at my brain.

I have begun to understand that I am quite good at almost dying. It’s living with which I am having the problem. I cannot seem to keep a steady stream of days together in which I am undeniably alive. If I were to guess, I would assume that right now I am actually dead, but I am still able to walk and talk and gesticulate in the likeness of a living human being. Forgive me for saying so, but it would seem that it’s much more fun to be dead and walking amongst the living than it would be to be living and walking amongst the dead. That’s just my guess if one had to choose. Don’t throw your hands up in disbelief that I’m calling myself dead either. Go to www.dictionary.reference.com and enter in dead. The Random House Dictionary lists forty-two separate definitions of the word dead with only the first three definitions meaning dead in the classical sense. Let’s use the thirty-sixth definition of the word (it seems just as arbitrary to choose number one as it does to choose number thirty six): the period of greatest darkness, coldness, etc.

As stated though, I am exceedingly successful at almost, but not quite dying. It gets to the point sometimes where you are so used to being almost dead that it becomes commonplace. I forget what it’s like to feel fully alive. I no longer remember what it’s like to say, “See you in a few weeks,” and know that I would actually see them. I only know how to plan for the future accepting that it might be a future that I will never see.

There is a set of beliefs that propose the notion that one’s name dictates the trajectory of one’s life. For instance, in theory, being named Samuel, which means “his name is God”, would affect how that person progressed. Perhaps, he would be more attuned to the teachings of monotheism in its totality. Katherine means pure, so perhaps a person bearing this name would have elements of her that would be considered pure. Andrew means strong, manly, and courageous. Obviously, this theory is astoundingly correct! I’ve died two or three times in the last two and a half years and this living-dead carcass, with manliness, strength, and courage, will not go gentle into that good night. It will rage against the dying of the light.

My body may be bruised and scarred like the prize fighter who has reached the winter of his career. My innards may be the distorted incurable filigree crafted by the most malevolent of artisans; however:
"NOT, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;
Not untwist – slack they may be – these last strands of man
In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can;Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be" – Gerard Manley Hopkins “Carrion

If you think watching movies with sex scenes in them with your parents is awkward…

Before my treatments began, I had to sit through an awkward conference from my oncologists nurse about the effects of chemotherapy on human beings. Eventually, we arrived at the point in which my nurse explained that the side effects of chemotherapy on the reproductive organs are unknown, and perhaps I should consider cryogenically memorializing my genetics. She suggested some places in the area that come with a good referral. In any event we made an appointment at a sperm lab in midtown Manhattan on the east side.

Inconspicuous would be my description of my first appointment. The day seemed rather uneventful. I went to the hospital and had the doctor give me some results of my tests. Then, we took a cab ride to the east side and stood outside what we were told was our destination. The funny thing about places in New York, as I’m sure many of you know, is that the outside appearance of a place in no way indicates what lay behind the entrance. Two discrete doors can actually turn into a swanky, upscale Korean restaurant that takes up over 10,000 square feet over two floors. Repro Lab, Incorporated appeared to be as unnoticeable as the other thirty some-odd apartment buildings on the same block. Behind door number one, however, was a land of opportunity. It was a building from which babies, and baby making materials would be extracted, maintained, and cultivated. It was a baby factory. Against my wishes, Katie and my mom accompanied me to location. I told them I didn’t need that much moral support.

I went to the desk and retrieved the necessary paperwork needed for me to make a deposit. I joked with the lady at the desk whether this bank had a competitive CD rate or not. I figured I could make a deposit and gain interest over time. Let my investment mature over time. She was not of the humorous type. I think she was a Russian babushka, a throwback to the old Soviet Union. Short, stout, fat women who do nothing but look at you funny and make you feel like you’re the one who speaks awful English. I took my clipboard and read over the papers. Across the top of each page is what I can only surmise to be the slogan or tagline of Repro Lab Incorporated: “Repro Lab Inc. – The Semen Cryobanking Center that Cares.” I pondered about what it might take for a spank bank to differentiate itself as caring. Premium priced magazines? The Playboy channel? Deposit assistants? Security guarding the sperm vault?

So, I fill out my name, age, and address and give my social security number, meanwhile, I’m trying to understand in what way RLI will show me they care. I wonder if they hire people to sit inside the spermatorium and read Dr. Seuss books and Mother Goose tails to all the future children. I would suggest “Hop on Pop” and Humpty Dumpty. I assessed my sperm proxy care individual. I decided that if I were to die that the best way to repay my father for all the hard-earned cash he spent on me was to give him my special men. My imagination created the scenario in the fashion of putting ashes in an urn and resting it on the mantle… I gave my paperwork to our Russian KGB and sat down.

The whole place made your skin crawl. Common stains on the floor became much more distasteful in my mind. At last, Galina Ulanova called my name and brought me to my room. Quick room inventory: ten-by-ten (at most); one counter, soap dispenser and sink included; one paper towel dispenser; long table placed against the wall, various (low-end) pornographic movies and magazines included; one surprisingly comfortable looking lazy boy chair, with recline capability; one ten-inch television/VCR unit.

I tried to become comfortable in this room. I tested the comfort of the lazy boy chair. The rustling of the medical protective paper as I sat startled me and I jumped up afraid that I could be heard outside of my room. So I waited a bit, I realized that I could hear everything going on in the hallway. I could hear Oxana Baiul figure skating clients into their rooms and then performing a salchow into a triple axel back behind her iron curtain counter. As if the situation were not awkward enough, the gentleman in room 4 had the volume on his television/VCR unit entirely way to high. I turned my back to the door to look over the landscape in front of me. My eyes scanned the room and in that moment I considered exactly how important to me it was to have children. That plastic cup was just staring at me from the counter. It burned a hole through my forehead, man! There he was just sitting, judging, as if to say, “Yup, this is what your life has become.” I hated that room.

After three visits, I began my treatment. For reference, I went there alone each time after. I gave you this lurid story because it was exactly two and a half years ago that I took my first treatment. I just thought that you might want to really know what I was doing before treatment. And I ask you, “Please, it’s tough to write this stuff down sometimes – don’t make fun of me the next time you see me!”

Take care. I’ll be back.

The Doppelganger of Dr. Seuss...

"I have heard there are troubles of more than one kind.
Some come from ahead and some come from behind.
But I've bought a big bat. I'm all ready you see.
Now my troubles are going to have troubles with me!"~Dr. Seuss

When I was a boy I played with my toys
Some of my toys were toys of boys
Of soldiers and turtles and racing cars, too
If only I’d known what would come when I grew.

When I was a bit older, my shoulders grew bolder
And my bolder shoulders asked girls to come over
I twisted, I turned, but none did I see
Well enough to think “Gee, this one’s for me.”

I tittled and I tattled and I often did battle
With mindless chatter that piddled and prattled
I bibbled and babbled to answer the chatter
But often I said “This is all much too much a-clatter!”

Until the day when she came my way
I was smitten as a kitten, what can I say?
In my clouds and shrouds, she was my ray.
I’d say, “I’m going to marry that girl some day.”

Not her, not I, not none could predict
That I’d become a fix that couldn’t be fixed.
I smiled through my trial though my feelings were mixed
This story I’ll explain, I’ll try to depict.

A fighter I’ve been, ones who know will agree
But fighting this fight was not one I could see
To me it was nothing but a pain while I ate
I strained with the pain that I tried to abate

Black lung, pink lung
One lump, two bumps
My time is come
My time is done
The fruits of old life
Of this I’ll have none

Tested and testing, scanning and scanned
Poking and prodding, appointments I’d planned
Today, tomorrow, two years-one half
Two more? To know, how great would be that?

To sleep, to dream, to sweat, to scream
To wake, to wait, to think, to seem
To be better, to be worse,
Seem to be the same to me

To live, to die, to laugh, to cry
I did not ask, "God, tell me why!"
Life does pass most people by
While they’re busy making plans,
But those plans never fly.

Those plans they die without flight
The flight has to fight with the scary plight
And the scary plight has a very mighty might
Life passes by, the plans never see light

What plans, with scans, can I try and make, sir?
What stake, with haste, can I try and claim, sir?
I do not like black lungs and scans…
I do not like them Sam-I-Am…

I would not like it in my head
I would not like to lie in bed
I do not want it in my gut
I do not want it that would suck
I would not like it in my chest
I would not like it in my neck
I would not like surgeries numbering three
I would not, do not want that for me

However, it seems as though it’s in your head
It seems as though you’ll lie in bed
It seems as though it’s in your gut
It seems as though this will suck
It seems as though it’s in your chest
It seems as though it’s in your neck
It seems as though you’ll have surgery
It seems as though there should be three

One slice, two slice
Three slice, me slice
Beds and heads and chills and pills
Pain and gain, hopes and thrills.

“How did it get so late so soon?
It’s night before it’s afternoon.
December is here before it’s June.
My goodness how the time has flewn.
How did it get so late so soon?”- Dr. Seuss

This is not the way things should go,
This is not what I’ve been told.
Son goes before mother grows old?
This is not what I’ve been told.

I cannot, I will not let it be so
Though my body be weak and my hair start to go
Let my stomach to my food say “Oh, no
We don’t want you here, you've got to go.”
I'll take the bumps and bruises just to show
I cannot, I will not let it be so.

And I did not I have not let it be so
And now, on head and face, my hair does grow
I go, but slow I go, because I will always know
Today is here, though tomorrow may not show

The Grinch the Lorax, Mr. Knox, and the man
Who would not in them in a box
And would not eat them with a fox
They all learned the lesson to love
Above all, and of all, there is nothing above
While you’re still around, while you still can
Don’t be afraid to try Green Eggs and Ham.

I had Breakfast at Tiffany's once. It's a diner on Route 17. The food wasn't so good. Not worth a movie...

"I believe in pink. I believe that laughing is the best calorie burner. I believe in kissing. Kissing a lot! I believe in being strong when everything seems to be going wrong. I believe that happy girls are the prettiest girls. I believe that tomorrow is another day and I believe in miracles." - Audrey Hepburn

Some people may feel that it is easier to believe in nothing than it is to believe in something. I think that's because when you believe in something - another person, God, love, fate - it can let you down. If that something let's you down once it's almost as if you never trust that thing again. Or worse: when you finally trust it again, it lets you down once more. One of the hardest things to handle, I think, is to believe in something and have it prove you wrong.

There have been some who have believed in me and I have let them down. I have believed in my body and it has let me down. My loved ones believed in chemicals and surgeries and radiation and those things have let them down. It's tough for them to put their faith back into any of those things. Shit, it's tough for me to trust my body to get me up a flight of stairs, not to mention, defeat an infamous silent assasin. I lose nothing, however, by putting belief back into myself. At worst, it lets me down again. In that case I'm no worse off than I would be already. How much worse off would I be, I ask you to ponder, if I believed in nothing, and had nothing upon which to lean when I became tired from the constant fight? So I choose to believe in me again, because I cannot believe that a life without purpose is worth living.

So I have said, let us not believe in statistics, yet let us not be nihilists either. I do not know what it is that you believe in, nor will I try and manifest some universal belief system that can answer all your questions. I will only tell you to do this: find something to believe in and then really believe in it. You have to leave yourself open to be hurt. Allow that something that you choose to possibly let you down, because that means that you truly believe in it. And that belief in something is the only something for which living is worth. It's not supposed to make sense. It's not right because it makes sense, it's just right. Believe in something. Find something for which you will die for and then break your neck trying to pull it off. Martin Luther King, Jr. once said "A man who won't die for something is not fit to live."

This is my best Audrey Hepburn impersonation:
I believe in life. I believe in doing what makes you happy for no other reason than that it makes you happy. I believe in those who believe in me. I agree with Bertrand Russell that "the time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time." And I believe it again when John Lennon said it to much more acclaim that "time you enjoy wasting, was not wasted." I believe in smiling. I believe in Bunny. I believe that either you beat something or you die trying to beat it, but that you can never give up.

But how do you believe in something without any proof? How can one believe in something when every ounce of evidence has proven the contrary? How can I, or anyone, logically believe that my situation will improve rather than diminish after one realizes the complete history of the manner in which my disease has progressed?

In the same way that the comedic hero Don Quixote forced a group of men he met on his travels to swear by the beauty of Dulcinea del Toboso or else die where they stood. They responded to Don Quixote that if he could only provide one picture - some bit of proof - of Dulcinea's beauty, that they would gladly genuflect before the knight-errant and proclaim Dulcinea del Toboso the most beautiful woman in the world. Don Quixote, however, did not except this answer and he replied to these men:
"If I were to show her to you," replied Don Quixote, "what merit would you have in confessing a truth so manifest? The essential point is that without seeing her you must believe, confess, affirm, swear, and defend it..." - Miguel de Cervantes "Don Quixote" Book I, Chapter IV
Something that has been proven to exist or has been known to exist is not a belief; it is a fact. A belief, however, is defined as a confidence in the truth or existence of something not immediately susceptible to proof. Thus, having proof of something, either through sight or identifieable experimentation and then believing in it is not to have a belief. That is logically reasoning from true premises to a conclusion. To believe in something without significant substantial cause, without concrete proof, that is to have a belief. To be cliche: seeing is not believing; believing is seeing.

The 19th Century philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer developed a philosophy with the concept of the "will to live" as the emphasis. Schopenhauer believed that every being in the universe, even the universe itself - every organism, social construction, even some non-living things - is driven by a primordial will to live. It was Schopenhauer's belief that the will to live was the most fundamental aspect of reality, even more fundamental than actually being.

I cannot disagree, but I know that there are others who can. I know that there are others who believe that the most fundamental aspect of being is the acquisition of power - this was Nietzsche. I know that there are others who believe that the most fundamental aspect of being is self-sacrifice - this was Jesus Christ. More often today most of us exist closer to the middle of these two unenviable roads. Some think the fundamental aspect of being is having perfect hair. Others belief that it is ensuring that others have perfect hair. Some believe that status, salary, or celebrity is the essence of being. Others belief that art, metaphysics, and ethics are the pursuits of the soul. What are all of these pursuits except the ultimate tilting at windmills? Power, money, self-sacrifice, hair, status, celebrity, art, and philosophy disappear the moment before our valiant lances plunge through them. And we end up face in the dirt, ass in the air. Please do not misunderstand, I'm not calling everyone to a monastic life; rather, I'm just hoping that these magical things capable of disappearing do not convince you that they are the essence of reality. If you believe that they are, they will leave you when you need them most.

Believe in something real and tangible and never fail to use it as your guiding light, as your North Star. Remember seeing is not believing, believing is seeing. Make the world what you want it to be by looking at it the way you choose. I'm afraid of letting down the people that believe in me. We cannot control what happens. I can only give you the promise of my belief. I believe that I will be all right, and in the end, this belief is the resolve that allows me to roll out of bed in the mornings.

Miguel de Cervantes was a wise man:
I've been a soldier and a slave. I've seen my comrades fall in battle or die more slowly under the lash in Africa. I've held them in my arms at the final moment. these were men who saw life as it is, yet they died despairing. No glory, no brave last words, only their eyes, filled with confusion, questioning "Why?" I don't think they were wondering why they were dying, but why they had ever lived. When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies? To surrender dreams -- this may be madness; to seek treasure where there is only trash. Too much sanity may be madness! But maddest of all -- to see life as it is and not as it should be.

Be a little crazy... Believe.