I had no idea, no symptoms, really. But I’ve had cancer, apparently, for several months! Three biopsies and one surgery later, they think they got it all and I can avoid chemo-therapy and all that other stuff.
To be honest, I think I would have refused chemo anyway. It’s worse than the disease, from all I’ve heard about it. Not that I’d mind losing my hair and all that, but being sick all the time? The weakness, the nausea, no freakin’ way. Too much suffering just to buy a couple of extra years for a guy who has already enjoyed a full and satisfying life.
Death does not frighten me. Getting there – the process of dying scares me a bit just because I don’t like pain. And I would prefer to die in battle, taking a lefty commie sonofabitch out with me as I leave this world. Must be some Klingon blood in me or something, but that’s how I feel. I do not want to die weakened, helpless, and lingering in pain. I fear indignity more than death.
So if the cancer comes back, take me to the front lines and give me the death I desire. A warrior’s death!