Life Worth Living

We meet a multitude of people during the span of our lifetime. Most of these people whose paths we cross are simply strangers we share a passing glance with, or even just happen to exist in our peripheral vision. Someone who wanders within sight that will soon vanish just as quickly as they came.

There are people we share moments, maybe even quite a few moments of our life with. They remain active in our minds and in our lives for a long time. We share memories, we laugh together, cry together, we look forward to spending time together.

And then there is that person that your life just seems to bend around. You just find yourself inexplicably drawn to them, and they to you.

They change you for the better. Not that changing you is their intent, but just being around them makes you want to improve. They can see right through you, and can reveal to you your core strengths, even ones you didn’t know you had. They lift you up when you’ve fallen, and allow you to lean on them to prevent your ever falling again.

Life had meaning before, but you’ve removed my blinders, allowed me to see so much more than I could have ever seen. I feel like I can take on anything, as long as I get to come home to that smile.

I have found my greatest treasure, and it’s you.

This Too Shall Pass

It has been far too long since I’ve blogged. And I know exactly why. I’ve been wanting to invent some grand account with my new struggle concerning chemotherapy. I’ve been wanting to log every detail. I’ve been wanting. I just, haven’t been doing.

The treatment I wanted to write about drained me so much that during the time I was feeling it, I was too weakened to write about it. And once I was out of it, during recovery, I wanted nothing to do with it. I was trapped by my own condition. And so my blog sat here, waiting for me.

Until I came to realize a great truth. Something I’ve heard time and again, but never quite listened to. “This too shall pass.” It’s a beautifully zen saying. No matter what hardships we may face, they’ll pass. No matter what great event is occurring in our lives, it’ll pass. Our ups and downs, our proudest and our weakest moments, all will pass in time. They’re important moments in our lives, but that is all they are. Moments.

While I was suffering the effects of treatment, I felt locked inside my own personal hell. I couldn’t even remember time before the agony, nor could I imagine a time after. I was lost in that moment. And that’s when it hit me. That moment. It’s all that matters, right now. Live in that singular moment. Savor every taste, breathe in every breath of air. There is no future, there is no past. There is only now.

And that is exactly what I intend to write about. The now. Pure and simple.

Survival of the Fittest

I made it. It’s the two-year mark, finally. Happy birthday to me. It couldn’t already be two years. But the time has come. Every test has returned normal. Every exam has come back clean. What more can be done but to remove this machine from my body, and hang up the towel. We have won.

The battle is over, but the doctor wants just one more scan. This is a little favor considering all that he has done.

What’s this? It cannot be. And yet, there it is. Precisely where it once was. Like the moon in a midnight sky, my neck glows on the page. Could it be? My tonsils are likewise illuminated. There is even a star to set the scene in my chest.

What has happened? The chances of anything happening after two years is supposed to be almost nil. But this…no, no. I recognize you, foe. I’ve felt your shadow creep upon me. How could I have been so blind, basking in the sunshine. I could not sense my own shadow approaching. You who I fought for too long, have decided to welcome yourself back in. The others refuse to believe, but I know it is the truth.

Just you wait. The curtain shall rise, and all will know it is you who wishes to claim me. And it is then that my trap will be set, and I will have you. You cannot take me. You will not take me. I will destroy you. I will survive.

Is It Over?

Life had begun anew. On my twenty-first birthday, I received the news that I had been cured. No, I knew the moment the first dose of treatment hit my bloodstream, I had won. It was merely required that I survive the ordeal. Time was lost to me. I had heard that treatment lasted 6 months, but it seemed only a day, and yet…a lifetime. I felt as though I had woken up after a long dark sleep.

My senses returned to me. The world seemed brighter, more vibrant than I could remember. Scents hung in the air, colors leapt out at me. Memories etched themselves into my mind. I felt renewed. My mountain had not claimed me. Proudly I stood at its peak, the conquerer and not the conquered. No more would I struggle. No more would I wonder if I could survive the night. My life was my own.

Every test proved my life was back in my hands. Every scan looked normal, every doctor visit returned positive results. Slowly, surely, I made the trips less and less. It was hard at first, not having anything to do every other week. Some times I would look at the clock and think that I had better get ready, it was almost time for treatment. And then I would remember that those days were over. I no longer needed those training wheels. I no longer needed that weapon to keep me alive. I WAS the weapon.

Some things, however, had to change. There were parts of me that would never go back to the way they were. I was irrevocably changed by this chain of events. For better or worse, there was no turning back. I could only go forward each day, as the man I had become.

I had danced with death and lived. That fact had rooted itself in my very core. I slowly began to realize the truth of what had happened. Colors were more vibrant because I had lived in darkness.  Sounds were more distinct because I suffered in silence. I saw life for the value it held. This one life I have, became the greatest treasure imaginable.

It was at that moment that I had truly awaken. When all other lights had faded, mine burned even brighter.

The Night's Ending

Life had begun to take its tumultuous turn of events. Every weakness in my body had begun to fade. I no longer held the same crippling symptoms that I had earlier. In their place, however, I was visited by a phantom.

I took this weight as my own burden to bear. It simply had to be so, because even though I suffered, I could tell I was handling it far greater than any others receiving the same treatment. I was not sick, moving from one room to another didn’t drain me of all my energy, I was even strong enough to receive treatment every two weeks instead of every three. There was even a time when the machine used to test if a patient’s blood was strong enough to handle chemotherapy was down, and no one received treatment, save me. They knew I could take it.

I could take it. That phrase played through my head as often as it fell from the lips of those around me. I often found myself pondering if it was simply a wish, a hope, that others had. They had their own reasons for wanting me to live, so they passed their empty wishes on to me, in hopes that I could fulfill them.

But it wasn’t that way. At least, not with me. I knew, somewhere deep down, that I COULD take it. I was made to survive. No matter what happened, I’d hold on. I can’t say it was some beautiful dream of a life I had yet to live that kept me going. I can’t say it was some vision of the future I had yet to accomplish. I simply kept going…because I had to. That’s all there was to it.

The Cursed Blade

Treatment has begun.

Interestingly enough, the moment the chemicals reached my bloodstream, every symptom faded away. Now, I only have to deal with side effects from the treatment.

Every day is still a battlefield for me. Now, however, I have a weapon in hand to defend myself against the onslaught. A tainted weapon that saps my strength, but a weapon nonetheless. No matter the cost, I must survive this ordeal. I must rise above. I must.

Days have begun to blur. The only ones that seem to stand out are the treatment days, once every two weeks. I think I’m losing my sense of time. All I have to look forward to is the next treatment. The next time I get away from the humdrum of survival to receive the next batch that can take me one step closer to recovery.

While searching through the channels to find anything to take my mind off of things, I came across what looked like the beginning of an epic tale. There was a woman in white riding a horse as if she was fleeing for her life. Little did I know, I had stumbled upon what would become an eye-opening and life-changing experience. I had found the pilot episode of Legend of the Seeker. It never received any commercial time, the only way to find it was to catch the previous episode or hear from someone who did.

This was an epic coming-of-age tale. The story of a man destined for greatness, whose will, reason and thirst for truth carved mountains and toppled an empire.

This was a tale that inspired me to fight on. Nothing else mattered, I HAD to keep fighting, no matter what happened, I HAD to get to the next episode. Each week, I grew more and more determined. Finally, I had a goal, just one more week, just one more episode.

I could feel my strength returning. I had realized why he inspired me so. Everything he believed in, his ideals, his strengths, his weaknesses, they were mine, they had been since I was a child. I was looking into a mirror, and seeing myself triumph over death itself. And so I fought, blade in hand, against the tide to win my freedom.

With Eyes Wide Open

I recently got back in touch with a great friend who moved out of the country. We’ve never talked on the phone much before, for the circular reasoning that we never talk on the phone much. Neither wished to call, we’d simply text. But this time, I’m glad we didn’t.

Of course, he no longer has the ability to text, not using a real cell phone number to call. But since we talked for 15 minutes the day before, he thought he’d call again so we could talk.

I had just told him that I’m going through something. We aren’t sure what’s going on, but something certainly is. I might get another dance with death, or it could just be tonsillitis. No one really knows yet. Nevertheless, he was worried and wanted to talk to me about it.

We spoke for a long while, discussing the possibilities, and the concept of death. I told him how to me, to live or die isn’t really the object. When you make it your goal to stay alive, you’ll eventually lose, and you have that fear of losing until it happens. My goal is just to fight. No matter what happens, I’m going to fight. My dance with Death left me with a scar. I vowed then that before it takes me, I’ll leave give death itself a scar to match.

This reassured him, as he was worried about how I was handling the possibilities of my ailment. It was then that I heard something I’d never thought I’d hear before. This is a man I’ve grown close to over the years. A man I’ve trusted, and at times looked up to. But we’ve never spoken the words. There was a mutual understanding of how we felt, a look in the eye or a nod, but never touched on it. We were always too busy laughing and having fun.

This day was different. I knew we were close, I knew we cared for one another like brothers. But to hear the words, to hear him say I’m the same as family, that I mean so much to him, I can’t die, if anything bad happens, he’s on the next flight back to see me. I’m his best friend, and he can’t lose me.

It was eye-opening. I never thought hearing those words would mean so much. I realized just how many lives I’ve touched, and how many people were backing me up, cheering me on. I realized just what my life is worth.

We really don’t say such personal things as often as we should. We’re afraid of revealing our soul to people, because it makes us vulnerable. But imagine, if just one person reveals how they truly feel, and it can rekindle the flame, making a cancer survivor fight for their life with renewed vigor, just imagine what more people can do.

Reach out and touch someone. I’m not saying we all need to act nice and tell complete strangers that we care about them, and start spewing religious claptrap everywhere. But if you’ve got someone close to you, someone you truly care about, even if you assume that they know (and they very well might), make sure they know how you feel. Truth paves roads that were never before accessible. Not only can it give someone else a well-needed boost, it just might reveal something to you that you never once before realized.

Open your eyes, and the eyes of another.