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The Second Bout with the Big C, my “Cycle of The Ring” title fight starts on Feb 8th

February 7, 2012

Tomorrow I enter the ring for my second bout with the Big C. First I have to get past my Indian Oncologist Sri Lanka who probably has four Hindu-Wheels-of-Life powering her BMW. One thing I find irritating about the doctors and some medical professionals is the way they always say something like, “You’re staying positive.” I want to scream back at them, “Positive. I”m not being Positive! This is MY LIFE coming at you. I’m not a goddamn battery cell, I’m a living screaming Fred. How many patients do you see a day. Well, I’m not a file on your desk, I’m Fred. I’m not a piece of paper, I’m Fred. And Fred is is spark of my fuse not a positive or negative charge you over-educated piece of nothing.”

Down the hall I hear my oncologist clomping down the hallway on the flat-footed shoes of her confidence. I’d like to see Dr. Sri Lanka come into holding pen with a file and I also have a file. I say in a low voice because so much of my anger has been suppressed, “I want to go over your case before we go any further.” I open the file. “It shows you are a complete professional with all the achievements and standards needed to be a doctor. But there’s nothing in here that shows you have any human characteristic beside a professional pride and sense of accomplishment for you family. Well there were guards at German prison camps who took care of their families. Taking care of your own isn’t a service to humanity. You are a success and a complete failure in the world of Fred. And who am I to judge you, after all what school did I go too? What do I know. Well, the difference between us is that you have never TASTED your own medicine. You want to do a shooter contest on the medicine you give me and see? You can go now.”

Why has these festered in me? It’s what I constantly see as the doctor’s immunity to pain. They can talk all the want but any nurse will tell you they are the worst doctor’s are the worst patients. WHen you mention a painfully side effect they mechanically say, “Yes, that’s one of the side effects.” As if that’s a sympathetic answer. I wonder how they would feel if I said, “Oh yeah, and one of the side effects of you making as mistake is not getting paid by me. Oh, I don’t have that choice? That’s right, you’re the doctor. I’m just a slab of meat that has chills and shakes and pain and pukes, what the hell do I know?” Do they offer alternatives? No, they don’t I have to ask about different medications and shots and treatments.

SoI head to the Stanford Cancer Center, head bowed. If you want to know what this is really like. Well, I exit my corner, walk into the center ring and a creature that looks like if came from Mordor and is a blood relative of inbreeding between Stephen King and HP Lovecraft come of of the opposing dark corner with a hammer and mace and proceeds to pound the hell out of me. I can;t throw a punch. My arms are down. The Big C hits my knees, my crotch, my face, shoves its fist into my mouth to give me cankers and grind my taste buds into sand paper, bites my shoulders chest and stomach. I stand there like a wall, shivering, coughing, vomiting, urine running down my legs.

Sri Lank is a ref and not calling anything against the Big C but saying, “Stay positive. This is how the treatment works.”

This beating goes on five,  three-to-five hours rounds in the second bout of our match.

When the bell rings to end the second bout, the Big C stands there slightly fatigued, a little fuzzy on its ghoulish edge. Then I git my teeth, glare at it and grunted, “Is that all you got, motherfucker?”

And I walk back to my corner, collapse in a stool for two, and wait for all the side effects of the blows to leave me, drink fluids and know the only fuse that drives this body is Fred–and that soulless, relentless sub-human mutation from the shaped by the flawed hands of science, never laid a goddamn glove on me. I never mutated. I’m Fred and you can keep your positive thoughts to yourself. Positive, nothing. I’m fighting for my life!

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