Chronicles of a
Cancer Patient

It was a year ago yesterday that the doctor called and told me I had cancer. In the land of survivors, I guess that makes me 1 year old.

To celebrate I did a few things. I released my album, that I was recording during chemo. I also edited and bundled up the meaty parts of this blog and released it as an eBook. And third, I rode 50 miles on my bike. In the land of cycling, I understand that’s called a half century.

Busy day, really.

I must be honest, though, it does feel a little weird to be selling stuff that came about because I had cancer. I don’t know what it is that bothers me. Capitalism. Opportunism. Something.

I guess the reason it feels weird is because I didn’t make these things to sell them. I mean, I wasn’t writing this blog with the idea that one day I’d make some money off of it. I wrote in this blog because I had to write in this blog. Same with the songs I recorded. I had to get stuff out.

And to come now and package this stuff up and put a price tag on it, and write succinct little marketing blurbs about it…well, it seems so…tacky is maybe the word.

But it occured to me that as an artist, or as a writer, or as a creative person in general – the stuff that came out of me during this terrible, cancerous time might possibly be the best stuff that’s ever come out of me. I always knew that I could write, if only I had something to write about. And I’m a good musician, but sometimes I lack inspiration.

I decided that this blog, and that album – they have value. So I’ve decided to sell them here on the site. I realize that I have conflicting ideas about it, but I think it’s a good idea. To put a price on something also shows others that it has a worth, and I’m ok with that.

These goods do have some tangible qualities to them as well. A married couple I know were just diagnosed – both of them in the same week – so I’m planning on sending a copy of the album and maybe a copy of the eBook to them. It might help them. When I was diagnosed I read all kinds of books about the experience of cancer, and it helped me.

I got up this morning at 6:30 and biked 40 miles in the rain. Now, I am not, as a person, someone who likes to get up at early hours. And I am not, as a professional musician, someone who usually needs to be up at hours like that. I mean, do you know the last time I got up that early?

Last week. When I biked 20 miles in the rain.

In fact, I’ve been counting, and in the past 2 weeks I’ve biking over 200 miles total. Not bad for a rookie.

I don’t mean to make generalizations too quickly, nor do I wish to foretell the future of my varied interests, but I’m hoping that this interest in biking sticks around.

The reason I’m biking now has everything to do with cancer, really. See, when I got through my surgery, my chemo, my everything else – when I was done – I didn’t feel like I’d beaten cancer. By the end of all that mess I really felt like cancer had beaten me. I didn’t feel inspired, or thankful, or anything that I expected I might feel.

But flying down that path today, heading into the 30th mile with the wind at my back, briefly leading the pack of riders and ignoring the rain pouring down – I felt that, yes, now – now – I’ve beaten cancer.