Tonight, I got to see some people whom I have been missing a bit. It was good, for the most part. There was one particular individual I was hoping to see out this evening. He was to be seen. We have had some good conversation. Some great conversation. I was looking forward to spending more time with him and his pack, now that my life is loosening its vise-grip on me…
I discovered a bit later why he wasn’t out.
He is dying.
I know, we are all technically dying. He was given two weeks. He has been undergoing chemo and radiation – I think – ever since I have known him. It is suppose to be an easy cancer to treat. It is suppose to already be gone…
I fucked up. Another friend is slipping away before knowing him better, again.
Plus, it’s that thing… That thing about my cancer. The violent aggressive one. The nasty, rapid growing, vicious one that can double in size weekly, but didn’t… The one that was suppose to knock me flat on my ass and put me into a long, miserable series of attempted bone-marrow transplants. The one that is suppose to be that much worse with HIV in the mix… That cancer…
I can barely remember it now. In fact, I have such poor recall of the impending doom of it all, that I keep forgetting to call the clinic to schedule my next PET scan.
His name is Ken. He is here in Kansas City. And want to know him better before he leaves. I need to know him better. In fact, I was suppose to know him better…
I am beginning to despise that word…
gryphon's hole 