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Port of call in the Land of the Big C

January 19, 2012

Got my port put in. It goes uder the skin, Can’t even see it. Don’t have to be a pin-cushion biped anymore. And, if I have the energy, I can still go surfing! Bring on the juice, Reiss is on the loose!

Chemo day. Got up early, showered, shaved, put on the pants and a nice shirt. Packed my bag with an iPod, iPad, some books, sandwiches, juice, and a pair of sweatpants. My belief is to look as clean and neat as possible, then walk into the Intrusion room, and change into sweatpants for my work out against the Big C.

I se the tumor inside me like a rubber punching bag and I’m going into that room and punching it. I imagine that black blob sound hollow with each punch, and its insides sloshing around, and shrinking. It’s going to get more hits in on me, But in our lives we reach a moment where one of our shoulders is on the mat, and either you have it or you don’t to prevent the Big C from pining down your other shoulder. It would takes tons and tons of weight to pin that to me. And the fury I have inside me builds like a storm and I will unleash it with whatever I can summon forth, and the battle empowers me more with new found strength.

WHat I can to shake off? When I was first diagnosed and dealt with the doctors and nurses they mean well but they come across as human condolence cards. My life isn;t an open casket funeral. I don’t need consolation, I need cheers. And I’m filling the stands with all the love and the best memories of my life and the support of friends and people who love me.

I’m going in it’s my kickoff. I have 3 months worth of yardage and the rest of my life in front of me. And I’m taking that fight forward. And I see those cancer cells coming doiwn the field trying to tackle me, But I run and scream toward them, roaring forward, laughing. Laughing in their ill-formed rubber faces and gooey bodies. They pile on me and drop me, but not one of my knees is touching me, and I’m inching forward, finger pull by finger pull in the rich dirt of me, and they will peel off and I will stand and I will keep running leaving themn for the dead, lifeless globules of nothingness that they are as I run for daylight shaking off the slime and feeling the sun get warmer on my face in the dawn of my life.

Who says sports doesn’t build character?

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