Communique 10-28-2020 "Tiki Time At The Chemo Lounge"
By Philip Drucker
There is something about being in a position where the most exciting news of the day is related to the good workings of your kidney’s filtration system. Mine is working just fine. So fine in fact that along with several other promising numbers related to my kidneys and liver and the continued shrinking in size of my cancer mass, I have been cleared to consider myself, wait for it, in remission.
Going forward, the plan is to get to the point of deep remission, meaning I still have a touch of potential doom and gloom, but I’m more likely to get hit by a bus before the beast would have another chance to kill me. Once in deep remission, as confirmed by a positive PET scan, the decision to remove the remaining splotch of cancer by surgery will be made, and if I am a candidate for the surgery and it is performed successfully, get this, I can consider myself cured. Or, as I call it, the other “C” word. Either way, today is a very, very good day indeed. Yes, it truly is.
And so, every single fricking day continues to be a blessing. When you have been on the “brink” as I have been twice now, in many ways there is no such thing as an ordinary day. Not for me, not for us. I do not what to give the impression that chemo and cancer have given me a life without trials and tribulations, setbacks and frustration. The world is still filled with ordinary people doing ordinary things in pursuit of who knows what, but somehow, none of those things seems to matter, certainly in no meaningful way and definitely not in my life before being diagnosed and treated for cancer.
In many ways my life has become its own self-evident reason to live and every moment I am still breathing is in and of itself its own reward. The opportunity to think, feel, interact and explore the riches and gifts afforded to those of us who are subject to the rules of time and space, thinking, feeling, reading and writing, watching television, or waiting for the next James Bond movie to finally be released. Without all of “this” there would be none of that, because there would be but no more left of me.
You are the center of your own universe and when you leave, your existence, your sun, moon, sky and stars, go with you. This is what you can take with you. You will carry the experiences of a lifetime, one with a beginning and an end, limited by the viability of the flesh and the tyranny of time. But why even spend a moment wondering about such transient and earthly rewards when ahead of you waits all of eternity, for eternity.
Can you imagine a realm or plane with no natural beginning and end? Beyond the concepts of creation and destruction? Where we are fully aware “now” is all there is? Where we see, feel, and experience everything that ever was and will be all the time and all at once? Where asking “why” becomes an irrelevant response to the discovery and acceptance of “is” as in that’s all there is, was and ever will be. Just like now, except we can’t see it just yet. But we will.
For now, the very thought of an eventual cure to my current oncological escapades is giving me a peaceful, easy like Sunday morning, wasting away in Margaritaville afternoon delight kind of a day. FTR this would be the second time my life prospects went from zero to hero and I’m having quite a difficult time finding anything to complain about. Now I wouldn’t go as far as to say I’m cheating death, but I’m felling fairly frisky I’ve got at least 7, alright, maybe 6 lives left, and the prospect of spending them in the best way possible fills my mind with hope, not only for myself but for everyone as we head into a potentially dangerous era of the great and ongoing social experiment we all still recognize and love as America.
Will we be alright? Of course, we will. Why wouldn’t we be? There is no reason that I know of indicating anything less than a positive resolution through the ballot box for the eradication of the cancer infecting inhabiting the WH long before he has a chance to spew anymore of his insufferable hatred filled and vile bile upon a no longer unsuspecting public that like I at the moment, can’t wait to see what’s next.
My list of “will I live to” is long and although I admit not terribly ambitious these days is still on my mind and definitely worth doing. At this moment, I’m thinking about whether I will live long enough to try vegetarian KFC? To see the end of fossil fuels as a viable alternative toward clean, renewable energy? I’d say to see the Dodgers win the World Series, but that happened yesterday so we can scratch that one off the list. Or, here is a good one, our first openly atheist or agnostic Head of State? That would admittedly cause quite a stir, but it would be just the type of dust up I’d like to see.
Will I live long enough to see the Grand Canyon? Still haven’t been there. If we are talking about travel, I have never been to Jerusalem and I would very much like to see the Wailing Wall. I must check that box before I go adventure if you ask me.
See? This is what happens when all your markers are good and you are given every reason to believe there is still time of any number of excursions, diversions, conversions, and subversions (think I’ll skip the perversions), no matter how large or small, to go. I like the night life baby, do you? You do? Well then, let’s go!
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