One More Time

My reward for surviving was a good one.  In return for struggling I got the priviledge of risking death one more time.  This was to be my last round of chemotherapy but it's one I agonized heavily over

Scared of What Might Come

After round 2 the doctors let me out for another short break before the last round.  I remember getting out and feeling better than I had in a long time.  I was able to eat what I liked, stay up late, drive around til all hours, and a whole bunch of other things that I truly missed during my hospitalization.  I was starting to feel worried about the third round, and the prospect of losing my life which had once again seemed so normal.  I had everything in order.  I had my best friend at my side and hanging out regularly.  I had my computer and the precious connection it gave me to the woman I loved.  I was also feeling pretty damned good about life and myself. 

But increasingly I got a sense that everything was gonna slip away again.  And that scared me, cause I had come so far and I didn't want to lose it all especially when there was no cancer present anymore.  But I knew what I'd soon have to do and it scared me.  Deep inside I thought of death and goodbyes I would never be able to deliver in person.  I wasn't ready to risk it all again. 

However it seemed I was ready to do something even more stupid and risky.  The weekend after I got out I went out with my friends to a night club in Orlando every night for the whole weekend.  When Sunday rolled around I found myself bellying up to the bar and drinking myself near to death.  I have asked myself what I was thinking but I've never gotten a satisfactory answer.  But for all intents and purposes I was drinking myself to death.  I had too much Jack Daniels and too many beers that night for a man whose blood was irregular due to massive chemotherapy.  In honesty I had too much for your average man.  What I've never been able to reconcile is why I let it go so far.  I wanted to escape the pain and the doubt but I knew I was drinking far too much, indeed I drank a near lethal amount that night. 

This is where I guess this is where I say the moral is I've never been so powerless as I was when I was drunk.  But the truth is that I felt more impowered then than I had in a long time.  I was taking my life or risking it but I was in control for a change.  If I was gonna die it was gonna be on my terms not by some fluke infection or by a tenacious cancer.  I felt that I had control over my life for the first time in months.  And I guess I did, cause i was choosing to push it, and I made the concious decision to stop.  But what got me there in the first place is the question I've sought an answer for. 

Well I didn't die as you can tell.  And after that experience once I saw my doctor to schedule the third round I had him do so as soon as possible.  I decided it was time to find out whether I would survive another round or not.  And it kept me from taking any more chances with my own life.  And so began the third round.

The Saga Continues (surprise surprise)