Not a Nihilist? I'm Shocked If Correct.

Yesterday at my Cancer Group, we discussed how our priorities changed because of our experiences.  It was a subject I have toyed with internally before, but never actually vocalized how cancer changed my outlook and the core of who I am.

I used to be a cynical realist before the C-word entered my life.   There is a lot, no really, A LOT of debate between me and everyone I know how much of me was "cynic" and how much was "realist," ( clue where I fell: A "cynic" is an "optimist's" word for a "realist.").  Irregardless (I know that isn't a word, but love to torment my inner English major), I have changed in every single way; you sort of can't face impending death and NOT change.

Let me say for the record and without false bravado that not once was I sad about my potential death.   To be honest, and my mom is going to hate reading this, but I was shocked I made it as far as I had.   If I was stage four and death was a certainty, I was OK with what I had done with my life and the impressions I had left with those I cared about.   Being Gen-X, the concept of a life cut short was ingrained in a lot of us from an early age.  Think of the opening scene from "Pleasantville".  Here  is the scene:

[Montage of teachers talking to David's classes] 
College Counselor: For those of you going on to college next year, the chance of finding a good job will actually decrease by the time you graduate. The available number of entry-level jobs will drop 31 percent over the next four years. Median income for those jobs will go down as well. Obviously, my friends, it's a competitive world, and good grades are your only ticket through. In fact, by the year 2000... 

Health Teacher: The chance of contracting HIV from a non-monogamous lifestyle will climb to 1 in 150. The odds of dying in an auto accident are only 1 in twenty-five hundred. Now, this marks a drastic increase... 

Science Teacher: ...from fourteen years ago, when ozone depletion was just at 10 percent of its current level. By the time you are thirty years old, average global temperature will have risen two and a half degrees, causing such catastrophic consequences as typhoons, floods, widespread drought, and famine.  

Science Teacher: [With a bright smile:] Okay! Who can tell me what "famine" is?

Fiction?  Afraid not.   This is right on the money for what I was taught very early in life, so I was a bit of a cynic, yeah.

Cancer was life's way to deal with my existence cleanly; I was meant to die, this was the time for it to happen, but it didn't.   That haunted me actually more than my perspective death: why did I live when I had so little to live for and why did people who had so much more die?

Survival Guilt?  Me?  That shit is fiction!  How can you feel guilty for living?   It is not like my life or death had any impact on their survival.   Death doesn't work on a quota system (I hope), but there it was.   I spent a good three weeks after a family friend's death from cancer in a funk questioning everything.   I suppose it was my emotional cocoon and how I was processing what I had gone through.  On one side I was no longer a cynic, but on the other, my nihilism was born.

I would spend the next year of my life believing nothing mattered; everything was random.   Healthy life or eat like shit?  Work out or lounge?   Family or single?  Slacker or contributor?  It doesn't mean shit.  The value of one's life is purely random and without any deeper meaning.    There is no "Fate" other than "your game has ended."  How could it mean anything?   I had seen for myself the meaningless waste and cruelness life can dish out and there was clearly no meaning to any of it, so why bother trying?

So why did I survive?  To spread that message?  That couldn't be, because if I survived to spread the message that "Life Had No Meaning," that clearly means my life had a purpose yet unfulfilled (to spread that message) and therefore the message was wrong.    But if the message is wrong, then I couldn't have been saved to spread a false message; there had to be something more.   My nihilism became detection.

I began recounting books I read, movies I watched, songs I knew, and reviewed them for hints.   Richard Bach's "Illusions" and his "Messiah Guide" were big helps.   I looked up Gandhi and MLK and other great minds for things they said.   I looked at quote sites for things about life, death, and what could be between.  I became obsessed.  It was amazing.   The INTERNET became my own personal "Messiah's Handbook."

As Bach wrote

:  (H)e said. “You just open it and whatever you need most is there.”

 “A magic book!”

 “No. You can do it with any book. You can do it with an old newspaper, if you read carefully enough. Haven’t you done that, hold some problem in your mind, then open any book handy and see what it tells you?”

 “No.”

 “Well, try it sometime.”

The INTERNET was working this way (Why is INTERNET in all caps?) and I was transforming internally.   I realized, as Socrates had said, "I know that I 'KNOW' nothing."  I realized I believe, I think, I hope, but I don't know and odds are neither does anyone else.   We are all slaves to our perceptions, so we can't be anymore upset at someone who sees an issue differently than we do than we can at a dog for not understanding abstract advanced calculus in Spanish backwards.   This was illuminating to say the least.

I'm going to split for now, but the greatest way I can summarize my new found outlook is to again quote Richard Bach:

“The world is your exercise-book, the pages on which you do your sums. It is not reality, although you can express reality there if you wish. You are also free to write nonsense, or lies, or to tear the pages.”

Every person, all theevents of your life, are there because you have drawn ... What you choose to do with them is up to you. 

Everything in this post may be wrong =D

So Not That Bad

I'll admit it: for all my bravado, I was very  nervous going to see my surgeon today.  Made no logical sense for me to have been nervous as there was nothing he was going to surprise me with today; it was all planning, but I was nervous.   Luckily, I walked away from the meeting with one key phrase repeating in my head: It was not a new cancer he found, but an old one that survived somehow.  That is Fucking GREAT!

I could see there is some concern in my doctor that, if this cancer survived the chemo, what else did.    He even said the one way he would not do the operation is if there is cancer somewhere else in my body and we are doing a PET-Scan to see.  He seriously doubts he will find any, but wants to be safe first.  He said there is no point in removing my colon if cancer is also somewhere else.

On the bright side: he doubts Chemo is in my future and the post-operation will be a breeze.   He said again that the quality of my life will improve greatly and I already basically have a colostomy bag, only I wear it on my butt and have less control over what goes where and when.   Seems I have even less rectum than I thought I did.   He said today it was about 3 cm left out of an average of 15.

Now the details.

They are going to remove the left half of my colon and put a colostomy bag at the opening.   I will still have half my colon, so the contents of the bag should be closer to poo than diarrhea.   They will  remove not only what is left of my rectum, but will also be removing my anus and sealing it shut.   I will be a human Ken Doll from the rear: all crack, no hole.    Unlike a Ken doll, my front will be fine.  =D

I am splitting on vacation next week (I hope to keep blogging), so I am not going to think, write, or dwell on my upcoming operation for now.   I will relax, have fun, and enjoy taking the last month of shits I will ever take.

Amen!

My Dear Rectum

Dear Rectum,

Have fun these next few weeks because this is your last hurrah.   I will not miss you.   I will not sit back and reminisce fondly of the unrelenting hours of nonstop fecal parades.   I will not buy toilet paper or tushy wipes out of a sense of nostalgia for lost days.   I will happily wear boxers once again and never fund the Depend industry again.  The bathroom stalls of gas stations, restaurants, movie theaters, concert halls, and grocery stores will not see my ass again, although I have been mostly impressed with how clean they are nowadays.

I used to fear the colostomy bag.   I couldn't think of a more humiliating hell that that, but I was wrong.    Believe me when I say NOT having one has been way worse.   Yes, I appear normal, but am not.   With the bag, I won't appear normal, but I will be and that is a great trade.

I only mourn one thing and will have to make a point of having lots of photos taken without my shirt on next week on vacation since that will be a sight I am going to lose.

Other than that, bring it on Ass!  I am ready for anything you bring and you better bring it because this is your last chance to show me what you got.  I'm ready; are you?

Love,
Brad.

PS- I would have said "fuck you ass," but that might seem gay and I'm not gay...not that there's anything wrong with it.

Three In A Row?

Three days of posts in a row; you'd almost think I was a blogger or something!    Fact is, this is my legacy and I want it complete.  I have no kids to pass on my life lessons to, so I have you Lemmings instead; my people.   And I want to post while I can because there is a chance things might overshadow my desire to share at some point and, if I can make this habit instead of desire, then it will be easier if I am weaker.

So far there is no chemo in my future and, thank G-d no radiation; just an operation.    And people are shocked I am psyched for the colostomy bag, but if you knew what I have been seeing (and I won't share because even I have limits) you too would be counting down the days until you never shat again.   Besides, Depends are getting expensive.

OK, so aside from the cancer, what else has been going on this last year?   Well, I sold my condo and live in an apartment now.   Taxes and insurance were out of control, so better rent without headaches IMHO.   Same job, but less hours due to my condition.   Overall, I am actually and surprisingly quite happy.    Cancer is the best thing that ever happened to me.    I almost wish it happened sooner so I could have started this new me earlier in life.

Are you sitting down those who knew me for years?   I'm happy.   I am beyond happy.   I don't care if the glass is half full or half empty so long as you are happy with the choice of glass and its contents.   Where I used to search for a touch of grey in a world of shadow, I now am surrounded by a world of light.   I wake up happy.   Even when I am bored, I am happy to be bored.   It is amazing the way something "Tragic" can make your outlook better.

Sadly, this new found outlook has destroyed one of my previous life's joys: being a sarcastic bitter political cynical junkie.   I can't do it anymore; I don't care.   I now see how stupid the game is where I used to love the way it was played.   I laugh at the pundits and partisan hacks now and actually pity them where I was once one of them.   I kind of miss it.   "Kanrei" was a good political warrior once upon a time and now he is an old wise man seeking balance and peace.   What a waste of a talent.   And with Trump in the race too...

Well, that's good for today.   Wonder if I'll do it again tomorrow...

24 Hours Later

OK, so I've had twenty-four hours now to digest the news that cancer had returned.   I use past tense because the polyp that had the cancer has been removed, but it is an issue because I just had a colonoscopy three months ago where a monster of a polyp was removed and my colon declared clean.      And "Monster Polyp" is an understatement when my surgeon said it was the largest he had ever seen and had an OR on standby "just in case."

But to get back on subject, what this changes is simply wording for me and timing.   I had already decided to have an optional operation to have half my colon removed.   I had decided to do it in September, so when my doctor called last night heralding Cancer's return performance, all the news really did was change "optional" to "mandatory" and "September" to "in three weeks."

Why  "three weeks?"   I got vacation planned and I would rather go in diapers than with a bag.   After this vacation, I will have the rest of my life to party with the bag.  

I have noticed the universe listens, so be careful what you say.   Just two day before the doctor called, or three days ago I guess I could have just said, I was telling my mom that I wished I could do the operation sooner, but felt I should give myself the waiting period.    Universe heard me and said "waiting period over."

I can't wait to never wipe again though.   No, seriously!  I hated wiping before the creations my body creates post-cancer; now I really hate it and it takes for freaking ever!   I aspire to the consistency of a new born with diarrhea sometimes.

Too far?  Sorry  =D

It Is Ok, Really

And just like that I'm a cancer patient again. Came in the form of a phone call this time. My doctor called my parents instead of me because he figured it was news I would rather hear from them. Rob being a doctor makes hearing bad news easier. A small polyp was found inside by colon and tested positive for cancer which means my body isn't finished with me yet and my victory laps were premature.

Part of me expected cancer's return and I was waiting for it like a horror movie survivor who suddenly finds themselves in the sequel. It was too easy last time. Everything went far too smoothly and the villain vanquished with far too little of a struggle. He wasn't defeated so much as he simply retreated to regroup.

How should I be responding right now? Crying? Questioning G-d? Self-loathing? Probably all of the above, but instead I am calm, cool, collected. In shock? Perhaps, but I don't think so. I think it is more of this new me with this new outlook. I was, pardon the cliché', transformed by my experiences and am not scared of it this time around. I know the pattern, the game, and the rules this time.

“Do nothing and die or fight and live, but to live you will have to hurt yourself.”

This is the central theme of the Saw franchise, a series I didn't fully “get” until I was diagnosed with cancer. I used to think I didn't mind if I died and, if I were in one of those traps, figured I would have simply just died without a struggle. I have learned not only how much I want to live, but how much there is to love about life. I am not ready to give it up yet. It took cancer to show me this and, much like a survivor of a Jigsaw trap, I have come out the other side with a newfound joy and desire to live.

Nothing is standing in my way; not even my colon. See ya! Good riddance. I hated taking shits anyway.