The Saying goes: “Behind every great man…is a strong woman.”
How many of you thought I would open up with such a line? Let’s discuss the fact’s behind everything I have gone through in the last 7 months. Diagnosed with cancer: Fact. Dealt with countless nights of side effects and frustration: Fact. Let myself sink to a depression that a crane couldn’t have pulled me out of: Fact.
Kicked around the one that loved me most every time I was down and out: Fact.
One moment I can recall greatly was when I had just started chemo. We had no clue what to expect. No drugs to counter act the side effects. No preparation for what was to come. I woke up two days after chemo and it was on like world war three up in that bathroom. We were staying at my moms house; (btw, very important to note, my mother has been a blessing through out this experience too, and her blog is coming.) I’m in the bathroom hunched over the toilet. When you’re drunk, and you’re throwing up you earned it. You earned every feeling you get. This wasn’t like that. This was like your toes were throwing up through your ankles and your knee caps and your hips, up your spine and out your throat, kind of throwing up. Sorry to be graphic, but this vomit wanted you to know it was coming a year before it got there and it wanted more than your stomach to feel it. My body was screaming the song lyrics “Sending out an S.O.S.” but only it was like Slipknot convulsing, shouting, “Send out the Mother F***ing S.O.S.” In reality there was nothing humorous about what was going on that morning. So I got through my first, for lack of better terms, “vomit session.” I leave the bathroom and as if I were hammered, I pass out. I might as well have been drunk, cause anything other than throwing up on that day, I don’t remember. This was an all day affair. I think by about 6PM I was able to have my first cup of soup. That was after at least 5 or 6 long extensive battles with the bathroom, to sum it up lightly.
What I do remember is the person I was while I was throwing up. I’d like to sit here and cowardly blame it on chemo, high stress, cancer. That’s easy to do. My fiance would sit outside the door because being my first day dealing with this, I wanted to not be seen. I wanted no one around me. I thought then that I was already ready to die. Little did I know, this would not be my worse day. Nikki sat outside the door, innocently and helplessly asking me, what could she do for me. She has asked this several times throughout dealing with cancer and chemo. It drives me nuts. The reason it drives me nuts is because I don’t even know what I can do for myself. But one thing I can shamefully admit is, my responses are always those coming from an asshole. I become the biggest asshole in the world when it comes to these side effects. I’m so embarrassed with how I react sometimes that I don’t even want to get further into detail about it. Over the border, disrespectful.
About a month ago, something happened to me. I was, at that time, in my own funk. Greater than Cancer and Chemo. I was in a depressive funk that I can honestly say, I was on the edge of ending treatments early. I don’t want to dive too deep into it, because, well, that is also a story for another blog. But anyhow, while I was in my funk, I was laying in bed sleeping and suddenly I woke up with this pain. The only way I could describe this pain is by inserting a jack hammer in your intestines and letting it go off on you. That is the mildest imagery I can give you. And I went through this pain for 12 hours easy. 16 sounds more true to story. But for arguments sake we’ll go with 12. My family was there for me. My mother laid next to me, my brother sat there and watched, waiting for direction. My fiance for 6 hours before anyone woke up was there…asking me…”What can I do for you?” I won’t lie, I cursed at her, I screamed and kicked for her to get away from me. I pleaded for God to take my life and if He wouldn’t, than damn it allow her to do so. But let me tell you something. Something happened that day. Something happened as she laid over me, trying to stop me from shaking and pounding like a dieing dog going through it’s last seizure. Tears rolling from her eyes. She felt every ounce of pain and turmoil I was going through. She never left my side. She absorbed like a sponge everything I had to dish out. She kept us together. On that day she made me realize that I had the greatest soul mate ever. She was my rock and she was shield. They say you have two great women in your life. Your mom should be one. She proved she was the other one.
Yes! I am making a movie, my story about Ewings Sarcoma. My story about surviving cancer. But there’s always an underlying story, a message in each film. Something that sometimes you don’t realize is there until it’s already done taking place. I want you all to know. The story within a story is there. I’m not just making this film because I beat cancer. I’m making this film because I had a strong supporting cast. And they deserve this story more than I do. She deserves this story more than I do. Thanks guys. Now how can you Beat That?
I love you.
“Let’s make a movie. Let’s tell the story.”