03 - The Cleansing Deluge

Well well well. You go and tell everybody that you're going to write a good long post to make up for yesterday's busy day, and then the steady stream of visitors all day long pour in and the hours tick past and now here I am after 11pm and this sentence is exactly as run-on as the point it is attempting to make. BOOM. Metaphor, son. That's writer game, right there.

My original intent was to write today about my story from the beginning, the days when I first began to notice that something was seriously wrong with me, which have led me to this bed and laptop and, frankly, into the acquaintance/minds/hearts/mild amusement of so many fine new friends out there. I still fully intend to do that, but I have a doctor's followup appointment at 8am tomorrow and it's one minute before midnight now, so it's just not going to happen. Instead of just writing another nothing placeholder, though, I did want to take a few minutes to describe what the past few days have been like in terms of the support I've suddenly begun to receive from so many unexpected sources far and near. I've been describing it as a waterfall... it's gorgeous from a concept standpoint, it's beautiful up close, but from right underneath it gets harder to deny the fact that it's also pounding down on you with a great deal of force. But oh, man, is it awesome to stand under. It doesn't feel like weight, it doesn't crush or harm, it just cleanses me inside and out.

The shortest way I can put it is that you're just incredible. Reading this. You. Yes. You came here because you heard I was ailing, or else you knew me beforehand and have read day to day. Some people have said they stop by for the humor, which is sort of funny to me as well since from my perspective this is really just me sitting around talking about adjusting to having cancer one step at a time... not exactly a typical set at open mic night, you know? I guess I could riff about airline food, or segue into a funny anecdote about what happened when I was driving here today... but I guess you'd probably see through that, since everybody knows I've been sitting right here for the past two days producing the societal equivalent of a turnip. There aren't a lot of frequent flier miles in professional vegetating, and the only funny thing that happened in the car on the way here was the part where I wasn't driving at all and pulled up behind my own car at the end, leaving me wondering if I'd gone through a quantum wormhole or something. Still getting used to this whole idea that from the moment I went into the hospital every aspect of my carefully-constructed independent life got automatically swept up in the wave of my shifting life goals... no more moving to Staunton with my best friend, I live at home now... sometimes my car moves to completely different places and I didn't move it. It's like Poltergeist, except that the ghost is actually my dad and instead of screaming at me to get out of his house, he's totally bringing me in to protect and guard me. He hasn't tried to put me in a TV yet either, for which I'm grateful since this is the flatscreen era and while I've been warned I might lose weight through this whole thing, that isn't how I really pictured it happening.

Maybe you're reading this post first, and might go back and check out the others that came before, or else maybe you've been with me from the start a few days back and have just kept stride with me. I can't describe how comforting that image is for me, when I see a comment on a post one day and then see another comment from the same person on the next day's post as well; it's exactly as if you were there with me, kicking tumbleweeds down the side of the long dry road step for step, just... there, with me. The internet is a wonderful thing. Because you see, I can take that walk with anyone and still find the light and love in it. A new friend made, an old friend caught up with, stories and similar experiences shared... sure, the majority of that conversation is just happening in my head. I mean, I've got downtime on my hands here. But that idea of the part of the walk where you were with me, it really floats me a ways.

So thank you, for keeping stride with me. That you're even here reading this is a gift to me, and I am aware of the crowd dynamic where an individual well-wish might otherwise feel as though it were drowning in a sea of similarities, and I don't want that to happen. It's still at the point now where I can and do personally read everything which is coming my way, and that will continue up until the point that it's not feasible anymore. And even after that point, I'll be coming right here every day to talk to you directly, and letting your half of the conversation play out in the imaginary walk down the long dusty desert road.

Let's kick a tumbleweed or two, and carry on. See you tomorrow?