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Setting a track record on the Big C Highway

March 2, 2012

The first round of treatments too me through a rolling and swerving road. I was in a unfamiliar territory because everything I saw I was no longer part of–even my own body had turned around on me. And I was gipping the wheel of a car that was out of control, trying to stay on the road–a road that was squirming and moving, trying to kill me. All the chemicals and the pills and the sore throats and the weighed down weariness blurring my vision. But I held tightly to the wheel. And finally I pull over and I find out my track time on the Big C speedway. My tumor hasn’t handled the drive well. It shrunk by 60 percent and all the organs if shifted have returned to their normal position and I get the urine bags removed from my hips.

I’m stronger than the Cancer Cells within me. A force is instilled within me. Even the last chemo treatments aren’t touching me as deeply. My 60 percent gain is fighting its effects off, or reducing them.

I climb back in the vehicle. I’m in more control of it. The road is swerving slightly but I can handle the shifts. All the support of my friends. A buoyancy floats within me and pushes up the weariness. I’m lighter on my feet. The leeches of burden is peeling off me. and Every positive line. All the music. Distilling my life into what made Fred is my new fuel in this vehicle. Cancer can’t handle the flow. The car is obeying me. And I triumphantly come out of the swerving and treacherous course called surrender-and-give-i. I leave it behind.

I make the next turn and all I see is a straight away. I put the petal to the metal and head straight into my approaching life while the dead cancer cells spit out the exhaust pipe. I hear waves and golf swings, smell wine being opened, a steak on the grill, mash potatoes and gravy, cheers and waves from my friends, and a new life calling me.

The smell in the air, what is that. It’s fulfilled hope

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