The Way Out

I was recently diagnosed with prostate cancer. I am seventy years old, so this really came as no surprise. Unwelcome news, to be certain, but all of us who have reached this stage in life should be prepared for such things. I knew probably what most men know when they get the news: not much. This is not a satisfactory state to be in, so I've set about learning as much as I can, and am setting the chronicle of my journey down here.

One of my favorite stories came from the TV show, The West Wing, in which Josh is dealing with PSTD and wants to know why Leo is standing by him. Leo tells the story of a man who fell into a hole and could not climb out. He asked passersby to help, but is ignored until a friend comes by and jumps in the hole with him.

"What did you do that for?" the man said, "Now we're both stuck down here."

"It's OK," the friend says, "I've been down here before. I know the way out."

There are many other people out there who know the way out and I will be forever grateful for the guides I have found, and will encounter, on the way out. I hope to become a guide as well through the pages of this blog.


Monday, December 15, 2014

Next to Last Day

Tomorrow will be my last radiation treatment day. Aside from some urinary changes and increasing fatigue I am handling this OK. In fact, I have come to the notion that having prostate cancer has been a kind of wakeup call for me. We all know that everyone is going to die, but somehow, that doesn't apply to us. Well, when you get the cancer greeting, that exemption suddenly expires.

Why would this be a good thing? It could be worse, and it provides a good reality check. Just what the hell are you doing with what's left of your life? Waiting for something so that something else will happen? Putting off dealing with that little dictator in your head that talks to you all of the time about crap you really should care less about? Beginning to wonder what actually happens to people, or the consciousness that identifies individual people, after they die? More importantly, wondering what kind of life one wishes to lead during the time left. That's what PC did for me. Woke me up.

 

Be Cheerful, sir.
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.

- Prospero
The Tempest
Shakespeare

Well, everything in the world has been bloody sanitised with health and safety, hasn’t it. There isn’t really anything left in the world where you can go out and actually kill yourself. I like being in control of my own destiny, really. You can go out racing on your bike, make one little mistake, and that’s it: you’re dead. I love all that. Being so near yet so far.

Guy Martin

 

Posted by at
Labels: , ,

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)