I come by my cancer honestly.

I am fighting my head off but while I was trying to eat lunch and notice all the thoughts that accompanied my masticating I heard nothing but fatalistic thoughts - thoughts I have struggled with as long as I can remember. Everybody dies, there wil al be suffereing in the world...hard to argue with the logic of these thoughts - they are after all true. Then I started thinking about the meaning of my life and wondering if I was living a meaningful life. Is caring for people one at a time and obsessing about the rest of those who are hungry, cold, scared meaningful? If this is meaningful then I am a guru.
In addition to the kind of emotional leakage described above which has been a constant throughout my life I have abused this body. I think my mother gave me a pretty good headstart with her attempts to provide balanced meals but I pretty much squandered any advantage I had by the time I was out of the house at 17.

...and before...I inhaled glue for at least 2 years in junior high and regulary fell asleep with a glue pot to my nose, was getting drunk fairly reguarly by the time I was 15. I left home to go to England where anyone could go to a pub (that's not why I went by the way). It didn't hurt that I was a mascot for American teachers in their 30s who were entertained by a drunk precocious teenager. I loved meat and ate it with little else through my mid twenties and then just stopped because of my guilt about how animals for meat are raised. I never looked back and haven't eaten meat since but rather made sugar my pyramid base with cheese and dairy next followed by alcohol (at least until my late 30s) and then topped by vegetables. Oh, and I smoked a pack a day conservatively speaking - 30 years. So, what did I expect? I guess I expected to eat, drink and be merry. And don't get me wrong I have, but what a frickin' way to end a party.

Yesterday a tough day. I'm getting a cold and all I could think was if I am cramming all these minerals, vitamins and most valuable things into my body and I'm getting sick. What will happen after surgery when my immune system will be tired not to mention if I have chemotherapy. I came home, cried, got angry when Virginia suggested I need to have at least 2 people who could come by and check on me after the surgery since she'll be teaching late 2 days a week. The idea of anyone coming by is hard for me and I suspect this is another reason why I have come by this corruption of cells honestly. Cancer needs no oxygen and I need no one. I think they are connected.

I had no idea why a blog might be useful I just knew it would. As I have given a few people I know the URL I have felt less free to just see where it takes me. I apologize to those people if this has gotten too heavy, too personal, too melodramatic or just not interesting in the ways you anticipated. For what's it's worth I think it helps that I not censor anything right now.