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This is Bob De Jardine.

He is the owner of Tuff Stuff Leatherware here in Phoenix. (The kind of place where they custom-make the garments from scratch. None of that hacking pre-made things down to fit you.) He has been the owner for over twenty-five years now. He worked for the original owners for ages before that. He is a cornerstone of the Phoenix leather community; if he didn’t participate directly in every major turning-point event in the community, he at least witnessed it. The list is near-endless.

He is also my first mentor in leather. I met him shortly after moving to Phoenix, late 1996 or early 1997.

Then he started following my lead, I guess… In late 2004, he was diagnosed with colon cancer. The first treatment wasn’t well-tolerated. The second option worked better. There is no recession of the cancer, but it has stopped advancing. He is still going through treatment. Still. Almost five years later.

I was hugely relived when I got to see him. He is returning to himself these days. I think he looks great.

This whole survivor’s guilt thing of mine…? I think it may be passing. Well, at least shifting. The other night, I got to share dinner with a couple I was pretty close with while I lived here. The elder of the two is only just six months out of treatment for large cell non-Hodgekins. It was a rough tumble.

I have to fight to hold in my anger in these things. Funny, since I had little to no anger during my own treatment.

Somewhere inside, I feel a seed sprouting with new life inside me; a new focus for this experience inside of my head… As ridiculous as it sounds, there have been moments where I felt I was the harbinger for my circles, like I brought this in to us through my own cancer. I know, silly and pointless. But I mention it for this: I am shifting my viewpoint. Now, I see the opportunity to be ahead of them on this path, carving out a familiar way for them in their own struggles. It offers an internal warmth to think that I can offer a sense of “Yeah, I know. I really know.” Perhaps some comfort can be found in the knowing that they don’t have to be the first they know…

At dinner last night, my friend shared a story of a trip through the airport during his treatment. He had a cap on, but the effects were obvious, as they so often are. One woman passed by him and tilted her head in greeting toward him. As she did so, she lifted her wig as if it were a hat; offering her symbol of understanding.

That is a kick-ass story.

That is what I wish to embrace as I move further into the future of my life. Perhaps the weight of surviving has begun to life. I no longer see only the lost battles in the deaths around me. I can finally see the other survivors in my life. And that is a beautiful thing to see…