The irony is edible. I admit i had some suspicions around the time that i wrote My Life Everlasting, but there was still some credible opinion that arthritis or TMJD was to blame. The final diagnosis though is throat cancer; specifically a stage 3 HPV-related oropharyngeal squamous cell carcinoma. The “stage 3” part is a happy assumption, since the MRI still needs to be done to look for metastasis; that is, it could be stage 4. Regardless, the treatment is the same: about 6 weeks of image-guided radiation sprinkled with the occasional chemo cocktail party.
Seems appropriate for a sinner like me. But then i know of a guy (1 degree of separation) who had his spine severed in an industrial accident and will never walk again. I can think of some people who might deserve that, but i doubt this guy was one of them. So there’s no point to be made. It’s simply a matter of getting through. As Patrick Swayze said in Roadhouse, “things will get worse before they get better”. (At least one very kind-hearted friend still likens me to Mr. Swayze, so quoting him here is partly due to that, and the rest due to his ultimate condition, although i hope i don’t quite share his fate.)
Forgive me for this post without a point, or even a punch line. Neither come easily to me at the moment.