Total Annihilation

My prostate GPS session went well.

In fact it was a piece of cake. Got me thinking about the line from Stuck In A Moment You Can't Get Out Of by U2 - "You are such a fool to worry like you do." Worry will haunt me as I move through this entire process. It is unavoidable. I am good at it.

BUT not as paranoid as I used to be. All the brain work I am doing has brought about change - I am learning to shift my focus when worry begins to eat my flesh. In fact I intend to be a Superstar patient.

This experience will be intimate by its very nature. Same people, every session - we will get to know each other. I am going to let my hair down. And, I know they ring a bell and make a big deal out of the final session. I have seen stuff like that on TV and I always say to Carol that when you are in a situation like that you gotta make the most of it. Dance your way down the line.

I am going to dance.

I met the machine that will be zapping me for 44 consecutive weekdays starting on April 6. I had to lie in it yesterday so they could map everything out. Once they have you situated, they actually tattoo you in 3 different places. This is so they can duplicate the exact position necessary for accurate zapping.

The people I met were good people, the people I will be dealing with on a day to day basis. There is always an excellent chance in situations like this that you will have to deal with people afflicted with toxic positivity.

I get it. Dealing with cancer patients is tough; you want to keep them positive. But over the top positivity turns my stomach.

The people I met yesterday were earnest. I caught a sense that they understand how serious this shit is, how intimidating it is for the victim, and that they will bend over backwards to make thing easier.

One woman, who I have dealt with two times previously, really blew me away. After the GPS session she sat me down with the typical voluminous folder of information and educated me about how this is going to go, and who exactly to contact with any questions I have and in the rare case of emergency situations.

As she spoke to me she looked me right in the eye. The whole time. I saw empathy on her face, I sensed it in her manner. No phoniness. She cares. If not for Carol I would have proposed.

So this cancer thing has been elevated to the next level. From hormone therapy (which will continue for 2 years), to GPS mapping of the prostate, and meeting the machine and the people who my life will revolve around until June 7.

Next week - a giant and momentous elevation. Radiation (there is a possibility I will tell you about it). Burn, baby - burn.

Message to the fucking prostate cancer in my body: You do not stand a chance. Me and my new buddies are going to obliterate you.