Cancer who?

Holy fark!, It's been a minute since my last post, but I do hope you lovely readers are at the tail end of the pandemic. In my case, it's masks galore for obvious reasons. Still, it's nice that I can have my Old Fashions in company of the same regular bar-flies I would interact with two years ago. Nonetheless, the proverbial cancer Sword of Democles continues to sway above my head like a goddamn E A Poe Raven. Glory be.

'sup bitch

Yet here we are. Almost six years since I was originally diagnosed. Seven years since I first felt symptoms. Add the genius and ingenuity of scientists who have researched ways to mitigate and extend not only life, but livelihood for anyone diagnosed with cancer. It's amazing to be a part of this trend: 5+ years survival rate, with ongoing study and exploration on how to help folks beat this horrible disease. It's truly amazing! I feel honored to have contributed to this research by participating in three clinical trials. And really, all I am is a case number in all of those studies, but I am also the same ol' MexiCAN, imbibed with furor, beating the odds that were unimagined 5-10-20 years ago. It makes me proud.

Cancer ain't shit, vato

Still, the road has been quite bumpy. One day things are stable, the next day you're at death's door. Really, I've been told I've progressed 4 fucking times. Yet, all these times it's been a misreading: Mostly, by UCI radiologists (who seem to be in their senior year of med-school), or an Oncologist that has no fucking idea on how to accurately read scans. It's taken 2nd & 3rd opinions to get accurate results, and even then, you have to listen/trust your own body. Now, I'm experiencing "exposure syndrome", in that I've developed a scab that's made me immune to receiving bad news. It's a sweet & sour spot to be in, and lately I've been taking this cancer-thing all in stride. Cancer has become my own private Idaho.

Hey!

I'm 27 months into the Repotrectinib trail, and things are stable. I'm a healthy 55 year old, post pandemic, daddy-bod, father of two glorious Indigenous American/Bulgarian girls with fire in their blood. I'm echoing Prometheus in his quest for knowledge, while risking everything in the hopes that, someday, clinical patient #2101-2005 will have made a difference.

I am Alejandro. I am Duke.