Thumb up, thumb down. Dying is no longer a theoretical, but a real and present possibility. Each test is another trial where, wrapped tightly, I present myself for examination. I live with a new kind of fear of my body. As if I am waiting to be told whether the vehicle that carries me about is rotted out.
"Blow up the world?", exclaimed The Tick, "But, that's where I keep my stuff!"
For most of my life, my body and I have had an ambivalent relationship. Only in the last few years have we begun to reconcile. Feelings of betrayal mix with fear. My body was thinking of dying out from under me! Can't we talk about it? I love you!
I keep feeling my neck and the enlarging growth there. I'm sorry, Uncle Charlie! Anguish, hope, fear, resolve, sadness all underlaid with surreal horror. It got me. Jeez. Then, back to the business at hand, the next day, the next test.
The results are in, each weighed and measured. I have cancer. But, I am lucky. Science is on my side. I am fighting with the odds, not against them.
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