Renting Time

Tonight, I ramble.

In my eternal struggle to sleep, I found “Rent” showing on the television. The movie adaption pales in comparison to the Broadway productions, however the soundtrack is still quite amazing.

In many respects, I can relate to the two main characters. Roger, the man struggling to survive a tragedy to find his one song in life. And Mark, the man filming the life around him yet forgetting to life his own.

Forgive me for sounding immature and trying to compare my life to a musical about “Bohemians” in New York City living with AIDS, but living with cancer is just as bad. Tomorrow could just as easily not come for me.

“Will I lose my dignity?
Will someone care?
Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare?"

Find the dignity in failing to reach the restroom and needing to be changed. Find the dignity in vomiting every evening at 3am? Find the dignity in the inability to shower on your own, or not being able to kiss or embrace your child?

I won’t discuss if people care of not. Some do. Some don’t. Sometimes, I do. Sometimes, I don’t.

Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare? This poses an intriguing question. Will I wake? Yes. But the nightmare will never be over. Every day is a fight, a struggle, and in some ways a nightmare.

Once, an oncologist told me I was too cavalier. Of course, I proved him right. I have been coughing, congested, and feeling downright shitty for the past 2 weeks. Wednesday in between physical therapy, picking up Gabe and a lodge meeting, I made an appointment to see my primary care physician. This comes only one weekend before my regularly scheduled blood, check-up, and infusion at the Dana Farber.

Will I wake from this nightmare? No. The nightmare is my life. In a way, we are all just renting time. But don’t feel sorry for me. I do it enough for us all.

Cheers.