Waiting. . .

It was finally the time and day to find out about the rest of my life. I took a horrible overcrowded bus to get there. The bus hit some bump and sent us standing people sprawling and the wheelchair lady tipped over. After helping the lady in the wheelchair back up, we got the bus going again with everyone mumbling about how terrible Tri-met is. It was finally the time and day and location to find out about the rest of my life and they said my Oncologist was running late. So I sat in the waiting room talking with my friend Henry while Price is Right gave way to some soap opera while my head kept screaming, “I HAVE TO KNOW!!!!”

Finally I was led back to see the doctor. I was going to find out what my tests meant and what I’ll be doing in five to seven years. I get to find out if I should put a will together or sell all my belongings and move to Mali.

There isn’t enough to make an informed decision. I will be scheduled for a CT-Scan in August and hopefully the spot will not have grown. If it has grown, then I’m fucked.

The answer that I was supposed to get today has now been moved to August.

In normal things not knowing the outcome is fine. I know people who have to know exactly what’s going to happen when and how, but I’m fine with a little surprise in my life, but when it comes to my life, uncertainty is horrifying.

This isn’t like the first time when I way lying in a hospital bed and having a doctor let me know that I have stage 3 cancer and that the next day I’ll be having surgery. This is after I’ve gone through surgery, two and a half months of chemotherapy, another surgery and recovering from all of that just to find out that I still have cancer and there is nothing I can do about it.

The thing about waiting for this kind of news is how lonely it is. I try to talk about it with people, but they either make it about themselves or they don’t want to deal with it. I feel very isolated.

Before, when I was being treated for cancer, I was obviously going through something, so I didn’t feel bad talking about it. Now I look completely normal, but I’m waiting to find out if I’ll die soon or not, but no one can ‘see’ that.

I rely on humor. Humor is the only way to bring you into my pain. If you’re not going to cry for me, than I’m going to make you laugh at me. Humor is making that isolated loneliness less sharp. It also keeps people at a distance.

Now days I spend a lot of time alone. I am on the bus for an hour from between home and work. I listen to music and stare out and think. I just started at a new job, so I still don’t know many of my coworkers, nor have I established any relationships with anyone. Most of my relationships are over text messages.

Most of this stuff has been internalized alone. I’ve just sat with it and let it fester. I try to see the positive side, but I just see darkness. Some people try to yell positive stuff down my ear holes, but I reject it. Some people have never met darkness.

I don’t know what people can do to help me get through this. It is nice that, while feeling lonely, I’m not alone. I don’t even know what to say when someone else is going through something like this.

So now I’ll live through a summer thinking about life and mortality. No matter how you spin it, death can ruin a summer.

I’m tired. I can’t sleep, but if I could I would sleep the whole summer through. I don’t care how nice the weather is, I just am tired of waiting to be a normal healthy man. I’m exhausted. Its hard to be funny and have any kind of hope.