I have spent the last six years trying real hard not to die from cancer. Last Friday I received back to back clean scans for the first time in my life. I went into my doctor's office expecting to hear awful news. You see, I've developed a strange relationship with cancer. Much of my success and notoriety is due to cancer. My cancer is what gives me the credibility to go into high schools, fundraisers, or corporate retreats and tell people to give money, or change their perspective. My routine with cancer has become just that, routine. Treatment, surgery, scan, treatment, surgery, scan -- wash, rinse, and repeat.

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So here you are, settling into the cancer lifestyle. Zofran in the a.m., Zofran in the p.m., Zofran when you’re nauseated and not sleeping.

You never thought that you would miss your cubicle or your co-worker’s stupid jokes, but for better, or for worse, you do. It’s a bummer having to come to terms with not living your life on your terms. But look at it this way, it’s your mandatory drug-experimentation phase.

Of course, I’m kidding. But at the same time it’s important to realize that you don’t get an award at the end of treatment for being the cancer patient who quietly suffered the most (even if the drug-induced voices in your head tell you otherwise). Don’t get me wrong, you’re going to suffer, but it’s important to fight every day to keep your humanity.

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“Why do you limp?”

“Where did that scar come from?”

“Where’ve you been the past couple months?”

As you re-enter the real world after having cancer you’re faced with these benign questions that often lead to heavy and intense conversations that you might not want to have.

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Join me this Friday at the Paramount Theater (16th and Glenarm) to raise money for cancer research. The laughs will be plentiful, the women beautiful, the drinks strong, and the exeperience unforgettable. I look forward to seeing you all there. 

Buy tickets HERE (Code LPF419)