I won't know much for sure 'til my meeting with the Hematology Oncology doctor at Swedish, Lillian Klancar, tomorrow.
then I won't know much more than a prediction and a plan.
predictions abound on the internet.
the one that took my legs out from under me said that the median time of survival, from diagnosis (last Tuesday), for Metastatic Sarcoma, was 11.6 months.
the overview it came from, very professional and learned, came from 2000.
http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/bookshelf/br.fcgi?book=cmed&part=A32374
just about the first thing you Google.
I didn't want to give that figure undue potency, so at first I spared the longsuffering reader of this blog. but I ended up telling everyone I talked to. and this morning...if I have to read that stuff, you have to read that stuff.
I think the thought is that if the tumor metatstasizes...goes from one part of the body to another...it's through the blood. and the blood goes everywhere.
I've been trying to be a good guy since April. but this just took my legs out from under me.
I always liken thought management to standing at a cliff's edge.
you have as much chance of falling over as you have of falling over out of nowhere standing on the street.
but the consequences would usually...depending on how busy the street was...be a lot more dire. and so the suggestion of falling is more virulent. harder to keep away, out of your mind.
but the discipline that keeps that suggestion at bay, and enables you to enjoy the view and not self fulfill, is the discipline needed for a positive attitude in the face of trouble.
I've been pretty good at it.
but yesterday, I was confronted with helpful thoughts like, today and tomorrow are my last good days. and, why would anyone rehearse with me now? and, it'll be good for me to do music and things I love from my former life.
my friends/ family (the distinction is seeming to blur) are bringing me up short about that.
Jim Jones was having none of it. he's been spearheading a new promotional package for The ReJuveniles, including a picture session on Saturday. he says, everything is as it was...told me, you gotta fight, man. Positive attitude is the most important thing, and you're the best at it.
he's fought through some physical stuff in his life. he should know.
Ken, when I told him about the 2000 study, said that ten years medical research time is like 50 years normal time. (I don't know if there was a parallel drawn between physicians and dogs, or real minutes and football time after the 2 minute warning) he said he had read of very new lung cancer modalities that had had a 30% success rate.
Stewart being at a complete loss for words spoke volumes.
lisa told me...ya gotta fight.
today, here's what it seems to come down to.
we are all given a chance, every day, to live or not to live, to make the day we are meant for that day or to choose away.
seems like a no brainer. like putting money you may not have enjoyed earning into a slot machine.
but people do it, as if to say, I don't have to face the limited supply of this money/ these days, I can piss it away and stay in denial, have control over it.
but gambling is the opposite of control. and the faces at the machines show the opposite of excitement. more like numbing.
yesterday, I set up for taking some videos with my Lost Alamos companions.
it wasn't the greatest day imaginable to shoot. all of our eyes were probably a little more glistening than previous days.
but it was a gift of a day, and goes in the win column.
more of the same today.
but today I have a little more resilience.
they want a fight, do they? (not Lost Alamos. "them")
I didn't want a fight. but if they do, I'm going to be there. these days are mine. they can't have them.
I did better on the first surgery than anyone expected. I did better after the second surgery than anyone expected. I did better with radiation than anyone expected.
and I have fucking had it with predictions. had it. do I make myself clear? today was supposed to be cold and cloudy, and it is the brightest day on record.
maybe, just maybe, you picked on the wrong guy for your numbers game.
in any case, these days are too good to throw them after bad. every day needs the best made of it, the number of days irregardless.
death, infirmity, health troubles have been a source of major denial in my life.
they squeaked me. had trouble looking right at them.
you see the accident on the roadside...someone you know develops health problems. someone you were in love with dies. you hear the siren late at night.
distant thunder. distant lightning. yeah, that stuff happens to those people way out there. especially the ones not as smart, not as healthy, not as well seeded, not as young...
when John Lennon was killed, I went three days without singing a Beatles song. it seemed like the "yeah yeah yeah" of my childhood had become a no.
the next weekend, at the gig, it seemed more important to sing those songs than ever.
it seems that the absolute all time A number one top of the heap increaser of appreciation for life is death.
what if we give credit where credit is due?
I will have a chance every day, in some way, to sing those songs, add to the new songs, to sing my song.
I need to hold that chance. use it.
I've been telling everyone I need more help than just from doctors. I need songwriters, philosophers. I need connection to The Human Endeavor, and my little corner of it.
I need people telling me what I know. I gotta fight. I gotta stay on the cliff.
I have to not be over.
like the sixties, it ain't over until I say it's over.
new blog tomorrow.
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