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Recovery of the humble

August 23, 2016

Recovery.

It’s like walking away from an explosion. Then again, sometimes you’re lie the guy who survived Hiroshima, then walked back to his hometown of Nagasaki and got a second dose. Most people who have had cancer stay humble, because being cocky and thinking you can’t get ill is what eventually kills you. What’s amusing is some people who smoke or overdue drugs and alcohol make a joke about it all by saying, “So I die.” Well, they think it’s going to happen quickly, like it’s on order—but when it comes, it will be slow, very slow, and it won’t arrive on schedule. People make all sorts of excuses for this, usually it’s fear of their own mortality, which is the standard. But, in essence it’s self-love, or selfishness. Some break out of it, other poor-mes do the self-pity aria of railing against every little pain or discomfort, whether it’s financial or physical, but the subject always ends as it begins: with them.

I stayed humble, but wound up getting cancer the second, and a third time. And I guess the hard part is flashing back to the first time you have it, talking to others awaiting chemo, and hearing how they have had caner more than twice, and you think, man it sounds like they’re on the way out. Then I find myself sitting in the waiting room, and I’m that person! Hits you hard.

I try to listen to the body, but sometimes it’s smarter than me—cancer has a way of teaching it to lie.

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