Without a steering wheel

The last couple days have been difficult for me. It started getting bad when I wrote about seeing my MRI for the first time, and since then has felt like a slow spiral down a dark hole.

Its been a big, ugly cocktail of emotional crap and medicine changes that have made me feel generally shitty. I’m pretty sure that’s the best description I can give it.

If you gave me a sliding scale of 1 to 10 and asked me how I feel, I’d just check the “other” box and draw a pile of poop. Complete with stink lines and flies. If you’d like a detailed image, please send all requests to my personal email and they will be addressed in order as received.

Anyways… I wanted to show everyone a picture of what’s going on:

Now, lets get over the fact it looks like I have a single eyeball, and notice the glowing area in the front of my brain. I’d love to sit here and tell everyone this is a “bright idea” going off in my head… but its not. Its like the complete opposite. This is the cancer I’m getting ready to fight. Notice how it looks like a bruise? Told you so.

Also let it be noted that I do have a brain. This has now been proven by science and doctors and NASA. And a special note to the women of my previous relationships: my skull is not empty nor is it full of cocks. Thank you.

I’m not gonna lie… even now this is a difficult picture for me to look at. Its something that keeps flashing in my head… like the image is burned into the back of my eyes.

I hate it because everything reminds me of it. I can’t even enjoy my yogurt without looking at the cup and going “hey this chunk of yogurt looks like my tumor”.

Its so bad, I bet if I ate a bowl of Alphabet Soup the entire can would probably be the letters C-A-N-C-E-R. How would that be for ironic? That’s okay, I don’t like Alphabet Soup… and if I did find those letters I’d just feed it to the chihuahua. He eats anything. Stupid dog.

The truth is, right now it feels like someone just stole my steering wheel and I’m stuck in the middle of the freeway going 100mph; completely out of control. I want my steering wheel back and I want to pull this car over and get the hell out. No officer I’m not drunk I just don’t have a fucking steering wheel… the Alphabet Soup is playing an evil trick on me and the chihuahua ate my dinner. Someone give me a break!

Okay so I’m done being negative, sorry about that. Sometimes I feel like I need to vent and/or bitch and/or whine about all this shit… but then I realize I’m just wasting my own time and my wife’s time (which is the person I vent and/or whine to the most).

She’s always there to listen to me even if it doesn’t make sense. I make her go for walks with me at like 11:30pm at night and we walk around the block and I tell her about how I finally pooped or how the Alphabet Soup was making fun of me or tell her “you know what sucks? Fucking brain cancer…”.

I’m pretty sure she thinks I’ve completely lost my mind but she puts up with me. This is a shitty car ride to be taking (especially without a steering wheel) but there’s not a single person in the world I’d rather do it with. She’s amazing.

Its interesting though… venting, blaming, whining, crying, and all those other self-centered wasted emotions are huge obstacles we should avoid but end up consuming ourselves in.

If you have Stage 1, Stage 4, or Stage NONE cancer… dragging these chains around with you will do nothing more than make you miserable, tired and dead. All of which are pretty bad.

Things happen in our life: we lose our jobs, the milk goes bad, people take our steering wheels and we get brain cancer. But you know what…? Complaining won’t EVER fix it. It really won’t. Life lessons aren’t spoken loudly; they hide between the lines and find meaning between everything else.

There’s going to be a day you wake up and get punched in the face. Now, this could be a metaphorical punch or a straight up punch in the face… it really doesn’t matter. Your job is to find the meaning behind it and make yourself a better person because of it.

I can’t tell you how or why, that’s the fun part. Just don’t ask “why me?”.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some poop art to attend to.