Remission

For those who haven’t heard yet, I got some good news today. After taking a series of tests over the past week-and-a-half, today my doctors told me that I am in full remission. That means that I am totally cancer-free. I still have to finish chemo – I had one treatment today, then three more left – and that’s going to suck, but whatever. I’ve expected that for a while, and it’s certainly going to be easier knowing that everything has been worth it. So six more weeks of this, and then I get my body back.

I don’t know that the news quite sunk in fully, but, at the very least, it’s been a while since I’ve gotten any good news, and news doesn’t get much better than this. I won’t start the real celebrations until chemo is finished, so I’m considering this entry my first mini-celebration; or a prelude to the real celebration, if you will. You know that ego that I’ve mentioned in the last couple entries? He’s sitting next to me right now, helping me write this. He’s reminding me of all the tough times I’ve made it out of in my life, this latest period being one of the toughest, and he’s busy brainstorming ideas for all the things I need to do once chemo is done.

I feel like whenever you hear about someone beating cancer or surviving some sort of life-threatening ordeal, the person usually talks about “living life to its fullest,” “treasuring every second,” feeling grateful because they’ve got a “new lease on life,” etc. I can’t say I’m totally part of that group, but I can definitely understand those sentiments right now. I think “living life to it’s fullest” generally implies some great revelation and reforms in one’s lifestyle, but, to me, it’s a very simple change. I think life is just meant to be appreciated for exactly what it is. It’s not meant to be wasted on worry. You’re not supposed to dwell on things you had and lost or things that you never had and want right now. You’re supposed to treasure the things you have right now while appreciating everything that got you here and keeping an idea of where you’d like to be.

And that’s another thing I’ve learned: The distinct differences between dreams, goals, and illusions. Dreams are a wonderful thing. Every great advancement or contribution in this world begins with a dream. Goals represent the steps you take to achieve those dreams. Illusions, though, are what often stand in the way of both your goals and your dreams. It’s tough, because they often appear to be either the goal or the dream, but they typically occur because you’re not being honest with yourself (or you’re simply being stupid). Consequently, they cause you to waste time and effort chasing something that isn’t real. I treasure my dreams, but I feel like I’ve spent way too much time allowing myself to be blinded by illusions when I should’ve been focused on goals. If I really can live life to its fullest once all this shit is over, that’s how I hope to do it.

This past week I went to two of my favorite clubs in town to watch some bands play. It had been a long time since I last got to do that, and I’d forgotten how much I love being around live music. It was like going home. I realized I’d forgotten something more important, though: My hands aren’t in playing shape right now, but I still can out-play almost every guitarist I see in Chicago. So I’m going to get back on stage. I’m going to have a band again, and I know exactly how I’ll get farther than I got with my last two bands. I know the kind of musicians I need; I know the quality of people I want to work with; I have a much better idea of the sound I’m going for; I know a lot more about the business and politics of being in a working band. I’m going to get that back and I’m going to make some real noise. You will hear from us.
I no longer feel the need to worry so much about work. Low numbers? Unemployment? Um, yeah, I just beat cancer. I think I can deal.

I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me to get back in the kind of physical shape I was in before I got sick. I’m looking forward to that, though. I’ve been running a few times in the last couple weeks, and while it’s been really tough, it feels like I’m beating this thing in a more tangible way. When my lungs burn and my legs ache, I tell myself that’s my body working hard to beat this shit out of me, and it feels great. I can only imagine how great it’ll feel once I’m not hindered by chemo and I get to hit the bags, spar, and leave the gym pouring sweat again.

I’ve been a ghost for almost six months now. Pretty soon I’ll have the energy to enjoy my friends again. More importantly, I’ve got a girlfriend who’s had to deal with a sick boyfriend for most of the time we’ve known each other. Pretty soon I’ll have the energy to start paying her back for everything she’s done for me. And, looking down the road a bit, eventually I’ll want to start a family and enjoy everything that comes with that. Now, there’s nothing stopping me from that: Not cancer, not any of the stupid things I used to do before I really grew up, nothing.

I want to close this entry with two points: First, I recently wrote about my stance on religion and spirituality. Since learning of my disease, I’ve received an overwhelming amount of good wishes and prayers, in particular. Many of those have come from people who may read this blog, and I hope none of you took my entry the wrong way. Truthfully, despite my disdain for organized religion, I couldn’t possibly feel more grateful for all the prayers that have been sent my way. As I said, I do believe in a higher power, in something greater than us and the world we see, so any prayer is just a positive vibe sent in someone’s own way. That can’t be a bad thing. So, really, my most sincere thanks to any and all who have sent me good wishes and prayers. You don’t know how much that has meant to me.

Secondly, I don’t think I did a good job of conveying my main point in my last entry, the one where I described the difference between medicine and chemotherapy. I wanted anyone reading to understand that if you meet someone who has beat cancer and undergone chemotherapy, that person deserves your utmost respect and admiration because they’ve gone through something you can never understand and – TRUST ME – you don’t ever want to understand. I don’t mean that to sound so exclusionary or elitist; it’s the truth. My best friend spent two years in Afghanistan serving in the army. He’s described some of what he went through, and I always just shake my head in appreciation for how tough that must have been for him. That’s all I can do since I’ll never have any idea what that was really like for him. I feel like cancer and chemotherapy have become so openly accepted nowadays, people who haven’t experienced it don’t appreciate how truly terrible it is. I think I was guilty of that before I went through this. Now I know, so if there’s one small contribution I can make from this, it’s to make sure as many people as possible realize that this is no joke. This thing strikes indiscriminately; it will kill you happily, like that’s its sole function (because it is); and there is no easy, pleasant way to beat it. If you know someone who has beaten it, then you know someone who has been to hell and back. Trust me.