Creeping up the Backstairs

It’s crazy how everything can change in the blink of an eye, how something sinister can sneak up on you and change your life forever. One minute Donnie Wahlberg is making me feel all warm and fuzzy, and the next minute I’m being diagnosed with stage IV breast cancer. And of course I’m asking myself, “what the fuck?” I was naïve and still possessed that sense of invincibility, the false belief that nothing could touch me in any significant way. So even when the doctors discovered a mass, I wasn’t too worried. When they performed the biopsy, I was impatient waiting for the “all clear” I knew was coming. But things didn’t turn out the way I expected.

Confronting your mortality is terrifying… for me, anyway. And I’m not saying I’m going to die anytime soon, but when you’re dealing with cancer, it’s a possibility you’re forced to consider. Life after death. Does it exist? Or will I breathe my last breath and cease to exist forevermore?

And then my mind goes in a slightly different direction, and I wonder how many last times I have experienced without knowing it. Was the last concert I went to so amazing because it was my last one? Like a gift from the invisibles keeping tabs on me? I hope not, but there’s no way to tell.

If there’s one good thing about this diagnosis, it’s finding out who your true friends are. Those I never expected to give me a second thought are the ones offering the most support. As someone who usually feels completely alone, this gives me strength to fight as hard as I can against this piece of shit disease.

Goonies never say die.


Donnie Wahlberg and PCD

Post-concert depression is the worst.

… Wait, that sounds bad, and now I feel like an ass. Of course there are worse things. Remind me to make a donation to UNICEF, please.

I’m nursing a bottle of Sunkist wrapped in a brown Continue reading

A Kiss on the Cheek

A thousand bees could sting me dead

A giant robot could stomp my head Continue reading