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I’m in a different Version of Deep Throat

March 18, 2016

There’s a slimy malignant one-inch snake slithering down my throat, sticking out of the esophagus wall like a curly fry. What can I say? Cancer is a mixed metaphor. It doesn’t deft the rules, it just defies. A friend said to me, “You don’t deserve this.” I can’t say that. I simply feel cancer doesn’t deserve me!

I’m deep throat.

This is the third time I’m facing chemo, radiation, and surgery. The difference is, I’ve already gone through those battles, but I was smart enough not too pull all my troops out of cancer’s occupied territory,

When all you know is pain, and all you’ve had is pain, and you have done everything you could to make a difference, and then the pain comes again, with files, oncologists that don’t know the color of my eyes or where I was born but know my case number and how much my insurance covers and their take-home–pay, and professionally accept how their treatment produces side effects not pain that can permanently cripple your body…well it just becomes part of the comedy.

When I had cancer the first time I changed my life, but the second time I felt I was already made, a solid vintage built for aging, so I became more interested in others than myself, and wanted to help others. The one drawback was that no one was interested in hiring a older guy who had cancer twice. It’s bad enough being an older guy! But one who had cancer and no testicles. Huh, no ball I thought that at least qualified me for a management position. What hurt the most was every hospital I tried to get a job with to work with cancer patients turned me down. They don’t want advocates in the system, they want people who will squeeze patients through the tube of procedure with empty phrases and pointless advice about what nutritious food you can eat. Oh, sure I could volunteer and walk around with a cart handing out water bottles—that wasn’t going to pay the rent or fill the gap from my treatment costs,

So what were my options? Well, what got me through cancer. Writing, surfing, love of wine, and comedy. So I thought I’d start working part-time at wineries again, write a book called “Today Cancer Tomorrow The World” about my cancer experience, and return to stand-up so I could develop a performance that was a cross between a TED-talk and stand-up to about how I got through cancer and how humor and acknowledging your mortality endows your life,

I hit open mic and cluns and performed to non-profits asnd developed an act, then put together another cancer book, and finished a spoken word CD that condescended the two books and my comedy act. A sampler.

Then I got cancer again, A tumor that has been slowly crowing for three years in my throad and one my oncologist missed. The cure rate looks good, but I stay humble. This one is an inch in my throat. I have esophageal cancer.

I will still come out with my spoken word cancer CD: Today Cancer Tomorrow The World…and then some.” And hope to perform my way through this, but I know hows these procedures take you down, I accept them.

An so I will probably shaved my head in advanced, but on my Australian military ha,t turn toward the battle field. Hearing the cries, seeing the blood, the needles, radiation, chemical warfare, and stay low to the ground, asrmed and dangerous, ferociously glaring, with a smile on my face, clawing deeply in the ground as if I’m ascending not crawling, hearing the music you heart makes when its tears hit your passion to live.

Oh cancer, if you think I kicked your ass so bad before, you have no idea what’s going to happen to you now. I look so much forward to the life beyond this, and I will have more to offer not less.

Man, I didn’t want to workshop another performance.

I thank you for your support.

 

I’m a very fortunate man.

 

 

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2 Comments leave one →
  1. george burgdorf permalink
    March 28, 2016 12:59 am

    Fred, remember when we used to play best out of seven in match play? Well I do. You once beat me 3 in a row. I know you will do it again. Hey, you wrote the book on this. Your friend,George B.

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