that escalated quickly

expectations are a false narrative, are they not? a bill of goods we sell to ourselves day after day after day after disappointing day. 

if there was one lesson moreso than any other during the year of chemo that i learned, it is that i was more of a danger to myself, every day of the week, than the chemo or the cancer ever was. reason being, every day, i would wake up with a different set of inappropriate expectations. 

"today is going to be better than yesterday."

"i will be able to walk without a limp. i just know it." 

"i won't see blood on the toilet paper." 

"chemo is just a word. if i tell myself i feel good, i'll feel good. i just have to want it." 

i was always wrong, to some degree. 

fuck. me. 

the same type of mindless behavior carries over into every day life, apply it to what you will. 

your favorite sports team. work. kids. relationships. the weather. any walk. every walk. it doesn't matter. 

we expect just above average, just above normal, just above what we've come to observe in the world, because we are conditioned to dream. to think big. to value what's beyond the status quo. to reach for the stars. 

and, sure, sometimes great things do happen. 

children are miraculously conceived, born, and live the first few years of their lives without their parents fucking up and dropping them off a balcony. 

you see a double-rainbow. 

a family member or friend values the context surrounding your world rather than rapid-fire judging you for the culmination of the context into an action. 

you fall asleep on interstate for that brief second because you've been up for way too many hours for way too many days and you don't kill yourself or a fellow human being. 

the big cats at the zoo aren't asleep. 

your favorite player doesn't do drugs. 

you don't get downsized. 

you get a second chance. 

the fries at mcdonald's aren't cold and end up being really fucking good. 

the water in the pool is a lot warmer than you prepared for it to be. 

the softball game isn't rained out. 

everyone shows up on time for your fantasy draft. 

you get a clean scan. 

your tail doesn't wag your dog. 

...

the facts are that these things set us up for bad days. they are good things. some are great things. some are exceptions to the rule. 

inevitably, we start to expect the exceptions rather than the rules.

and the rules are the rules because they are the rules. 

if i could just expect the rules, my life would be such a happier place. 

and so would yours. 

almost human


it's been two and a half months since the blog last breathed a live word. so much has happened. so little has actually happened.

the experience of attempting to document, in such a small way, my (hopefully) last (ever) cycle on chemo was draining. each of those days felt like a week. sitting down and trying to find enough light to make a joke about diarrhea or being chemo tired or aching all over or not tasting my food was cathartic in a way, but, at the same time, i wondered if i was making it too much fun, if that makes any sense.

had i been entirely truthful, i would and could have been much, much darker, but i suppose i made the editorial decision to not go that direction in the hopes that more of you and you and you would follow along. that more of you and you and you would, not necessarily sympathize with the plight, but gain a better understanding of what cancer can do to a person's body in general. i didn't want to be such a debbie downer that the experience of riding along with me would feel like a burden. and so, it was what it was.

my go to comment over the last month or so has been this. "i didn't know just how far away from normal i was until i actually felt normal again." and that's the god's honest truth. during the tail end of my breaks, i felt what i thought was close to normal. i could taste a little bit. i got a couple days worth of energy. i felt like being at work. i didn't hate everybody. i didn't hate myself. i wasn't wishing for a random bus to roll over my face. i felt almost human, and boy did i enjoy those days. i made sure to work out extra hard. to push my physical limits in as many ways as i could find, because i knew how difficult even getting up off the couch would be 10-14 days later.

nowadays, it's different. i have more energy during most of the day than i think it's fair for a normal person to have. not only can i taste, but i crave food. i want everything to be spicy. i look for reasons to walk around the store, to jump up and down. i sometimes go two full days without having to sit down on the toilet. and it is glorious.

i'm almost human again, which means many different things to many different people, including myself.

people don't ask me how i am anymore. i'm no longer on the prayer list. life has moved on. i'm old news. someone else you know has gotten sick. even worse, many people you and i have known have passed from this mortal place. the emphasis should be on them and the ones that will be affected next by tragedy, sickness, health, and other life shit.

it's still a weird feeling. not a lonely feeling. i was never very good nor did i feel comfortable with any attention my sickness brought. at the same time, i was bothered by others who i didn't feel like cared enough. it's fucked up, but it's how i felt.

i'm almost human now, as it relates to my health. in a random turn of events, i ended up with pneumonia for a couple weeks and now with an early diagnosis of adult-onset asthma. no biggie compared to cancer and chemo for sure, but both have delayed my motivation and ability to see if i am interested in running again. wheezing, being out of breath, not feeling like i can fully fill my lungs, people deal with that shit all the time, too. i'm not unique. it's still different for me.

it's time to get back in the blogging business, though.

there's so much to talk about.