#0


i remember this scene from my childhood. i was in 5th or 6th grade and over at my dad's for one of my weekends with him. one of my favorite things to do as a kid was ride my bike on his street, pinebrook lane. the street was just killer. the lion's share of the houses lie in this valley. you have to travel down a huge (for a kid) hill to get down into the neighborhood, proper, and the street dead ends into a cul de sac that's up another great-sized hill for a bike. both were steep enough that a kid like me felt like it was a legit accomplishment if you could pedal your bike all the way up without having to hop off and walk the rest of the way up. as i and the other kids on the street got older, we learned how to weave back and forth up the hill, maximizing our momentum to climb our everests. countless times, i would get up to the top of pinebrook lane and rest for a second, then take off down the hill, wind in my hair. it was just the best. occasionally, i'd take my hands off the handlebars and glide down the straight hill with no worries about ever crashing.

until i crashed.

it was the worst bike wreck i ever had. everything was normal until i got to the key's house and i must have hit a rock or a hole that wobbled my front tire. by the time i realized i was losing control, it was too late. i over-corrected and took a hard left into the curb in front of the dearman's (our next door neighbor) yard. my front wheel hit the curb and stopped the bike, cold turkey. i flipped over the handlebars and by complete accident somersaulted forward and landed flush-flat on my back. all the of the air was forced out of my body on impact. through sheer luck, i didn't land on my helmetless head. (who wore helmets in the 80's anyway?). the air was forced out of my body and for a brief moment, i worried about death and dying. i think that was the first time i ever questioned my mortality.

it took a long time before i was comfortable enough to go no-hands again. i wasn't afraid of being hurt. i was afraid of something much more permanent. and i couldn't risk it.

i've brought those fears and that anxiety into adulthood with me. and they have multiplied exponentially with each of my two cancer episodes. while i realize in my head that i will at some point pass from this earth, i am still not ready.

not yet.

i brought those fears and that anxiety with me to kirklin clinic this morning. after i received the news of my clean scan, i couldn't completely lose them. not for good. i did put them back in my pocket for a bit, and i hope it'll be several months from now before i give them any thought.

death and dying is such a romantic topic to some. for me, it's a bummer, my life's biggest obstacle to overcome. not to not die, but to be okay with it. to welcome it. to find comfort in what comes next.

is there comfort in what comes next?

today, tonight, i will not worry about that. i'll think about not being on chemo and what that's going to feel like in a few days. i'll think about how many people have shared these last 28 days with me on this blog and on facebook. i'll think and wonder about the care and concern of others and what i ever did to deserve such encouragement from so many people. i'll think about the summer to come. i'll think about what it means to celebrate the end of something that i never wanted to spend a year doing. i'll think about the daily show and inside amy schumer and other mindless things. i'll think about star trek and my new phone and the tattoo that i'll soon burn into my skin to mark this, the longest year of my life.

i am happy for life. i am happy for a third lease on it. i am happy for my family and my closest friends for whom i would gladly take chemo for the rest of my life if it guaranteed they would never have to share the experience.

chemo, after all, is a helluva drug.

it makes you hurt. it makes you tired. it makes you sick. it makes you mad. it makes you sad. it makes you feel alone. it makes you poop your pants.

i am through with chemo, hopefully for a long long time. maybe ever.

i don't have any cancer in my body and hopefully won't for a long, long time. maybe ever.

i'm gonna let the blog breathe for a bit the next few days. go back and read over my chronicles. laugh all over again. cry some more. and then put it somewhere in the back of my mind for a bit.

because i don't want it anymore.

because fuck this cancer shit.