Look at My Face....

Yes, that's what I asked you to do.

Look at my face.

Not because I particularly want attention......

And obviously not because I am in any way attractive.

There is only one reason I want you to look at me.

I want you to look at me because I am not dead...I am not dying.

Not yet....technically, I am not at this time pronounced terminal.  Yes I have cancer, and it is a mean, aggressive son of a bitch.  And yes, it is just now beginning to spread to my lymph node.

But this is still curable.  I have a good chance of surviving this with the proper surgery.

Officially, I am not "dying" from this disease.

I am holding at my ideal weight of 170 pounds.  I eat like a friggin' horse and while I do get tired doing it......

I still put in a full day of work, at least 4 days a week.

Yet, I notice it more and more as the word travels about my latest setback.

When people talk to me, they look anywhere but at my face.  Some check their phones more often than necessary, some stand with crossed arms, fidgeting with their jewelry or shuffling their feet.....

I make them feel uncomfortable because I have cancer and there is a chance that cancer will kill me.

But so will a bus......

And so will social castigation.

An extremely good friend of mine who lives in New York came right out and told me a couple of months ago.

"Ken, I don't know how to act with you.  I don't know how to act around someone who is this sick and might die."

That's ok.

I don't either.

Can you imagine this sword hanging by a thread over your head?  It's the first thing you think about when you wake up.  It invades and elbows its way into every conscious thought you have....it's the reason you don't want to spend any time alone.

Because you will think about it.

"What if they are wrong?  What if the cancer has spread farther than they can see"  How do I write a will?  Who is going to deal with my burial or cremation?"

Hell, I don't even know what I want in that regard.....

So do me a favor please.  Don't avert your gaze when we talk....at least act like there's nothing wrong.

That's what I do.

 Chances are, we'll celebrate my 60th birthday together....my 59th is just days away, but there will be no real celebration...that week is filled with phone calls to Doctors from Texas to Peru...Doctors who might be willing to do the surgery I need to save my life.

The system in place now doesn't really seem to have much interest in that.

But with the help of over 300 people so far, the majority I don't know and probably never will, it is going to get done and for that, I am grateful.

Eternally.

I will write about this in particular soon.  But until then......

Just look at me when I talk to you.....I promise not to die at your feet.

I promise.

All-Righty Then