A cancer diagnosis, as if that was not difficult enough to deal with the worst was yet to come. I had to go home and tell all of my friends and family. I was still unsure of how I would answer questions. I was unsure of how the summer was going to go or how I was going to react to the chemotherapy.
I began, I called most of my family and repeated the sentence over and over again "I have cancer". I started calling my friends and repeated the sentence time after time. Eventually I became the consoler. I had to tell them everything would be alright. Eventually it became too hard and I decided to save the news for when people called me.
I could not take the sorrow though, it began to wear. I started telling them that I needed positive vibes, that I was going to survive, that cancer would not save them from my torment.
I remember the meetings with the oncologist. I was told chemo would begin in a week. I would go 3 times a week and I would lose my hair, I would lose weight, and I would have periods of weakness. Upside though, I did not haven't to go to work and with social security insurance I would be getting money. Not to mention anything I wanted, after all who is going to say no to someone who lost his ball and has cancer.
A couple weeks into my chemo, I was in my shower washing my hair when I noticed strands in my hand. I freaked out. I stopped rinsing and dried it carefully as to not lose anymore. I did not know what to do, I was not ready to be bald. My friend was a hair dresser so I called her and asked her to make me beautifully bald. If I was going to lose my hair it would be on my own terms.
I went through my chemo cycle and for another scan and the doctor determined that a lot of the cancer would have to be removed with surgery. The good news was that my hair would be growing back.
Tomorrow: I get cut in half and I win.
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