This Machine Killed Cancer

A lot has happened over the past few weeks.  If I were a responsible blogger, I would have been posting here as each new development unfolded.  But I’m not even a responsible musician - the thing I am most passionate about in life (excepting my wife) - so you can imagine how easily neglected this blog can get.  Instead of writing one huge post detailing all that has happened, I’ve decided to split it up into the three posts it should have been.  That way, when future civilizations unearth this blog and try to infer something about our culture from its contents, they might be fooled into thinking that we were a hearty, confident folk who brushed our teeth and blogged on time.

For those readers who have never met me, or those of you who I know but haven’t seen in so long that you might need a refresher, I am tall and skinny (even before the cancer) with bad posture and horrible choices in footwear.  I mention this because I have always blamed the occasional back pain I’ve suffered in life on those things.  Usually when I tweak my back, I get some massages, wait a few weeks, and things are fine.  So in March, when I was carrying a bookcase through Target and felt a pull as I reached down to add a flowerpot to my load, I didn’t think much of it.  My spine was already unhappy from the needles being jammed into it every few weeks at the hospital.  I assumed this was simply the proverbial bookcase that broke the camel’s back.

Five months later, with the pain steadily increasing until I would find myself shouting in agony each time I transferred from a sitting to a standing position, I started to get worried that the Target incident was a red herring.  That perhaps there was something far more serious afoot.  The cancer had traveled from my chest to my brain in March/April.  Who’s to say it didn’t stop a few times as it journeyed up my spine to get chips and soda and let the kids pee?  So we ordered a spinal MRI, crossed our fingers, and waited.

It’s a strange thing to hear your family cheer when the doctor announces that you have a slipped disc.  It’s even stranger to realize that the rest of your body continues to decay at its normal rate, even while you are busy battling cancer.  I’ve had cavities, allergies, an ingrown toenail, and a slipped disc this year, none of which had anything to do with the cancer.  My doctors aren’t terribly concerned about dealing with those things because they are fighting a larger enemy.  It would be like Poland prosecuting someone for jaywalking as Hitler’s armies came marching across the border.

So I’ll wait, do some stretches, maybe get a massage, and when I’m done beating cancer (late November is our fingers-crossed goal) I’ll go get my back worked on if it still needs it.  In the meantime, I’ve got a large bottle of pain killers that help me keep the pain at bay.  And on the bright side of cancer, I’ve now lost so much muscle mass that it will be a long time before I can do something stupid and toss my back out again.