Wham, Bam, Here We Go!

Apr 10, 2025

A whole bunch of time over the past few days has been spent looking back. Really digging into what got me here. There’s a lot of good in that rearview mirror—and a fair share of wreckage too. Not taking care of my health? Yeah, probably played a role in the condition I’m battling now. Shocking, I know. So real quick—don’t make that same mistake. Especially my younger friends: make your health a priority. I’m not just talking physical. Mental health is real. The battles are real. And we all fight them. Alright, moving on. I could waste days apologizing, writing out every mistake, every failure. But that’s not where I’m going today. One day, I’ll do my best to lay all that out, to express the regret I carry—and maybe make a little of it right. But for now? Bottom line: what else can you do? I’ve tried the old “Bewitched” nose wiggle—zero results. And for those wondering, yes, I’ve tried it post-testosterone. Still no magic. Mid-afternoon yesterday, I had one of those moments—like back in September. Blink of an eye. Everything shifts. Or maybe not a shift... maybe everything just clicks into place. That wonderful Penthouse Dude swoops through at 1000mph, drops something in your brain, and vanishes. No instructions. Just a jolt, a thought, and an arrow pointing forward. He did leave a little note, though. Just said: “I know, but you don’t.” And just like that—I knew. I don’t want the unknown to come knocking anytime soon. That flash flipped my whole perspective on its head. A few days ago, I really thought I’d be gone by now. Sounds ridiculous today, but I can’t deny it. Yet… here I sit. And I’ll probably be sitting here tomorrow. And the day after that. I don’t know when this road ends. But I’ve decided I don’t want it to—not yet. Maybe I never did. I just thought it would’ve happened already. So now, I gotta plan like I’ve got twenty more years in me. If I don’t get that far, so be it. But if I do? I’d better be ready. Here’s the truth that smacked me in the face yesterday: I’ve lived my entire life moment to moment. And I know I’m not the only one. I had plans, sure. Glimpses into the future. But I always defaulted to whatever seemed like the quickest fix in the moment—usually to find out it wasn’t a fix at all. Now, as I step into this stretch of road with time finally on my side, I’ve got to get my poop together. Start mapping things out. I’ve already begun. And this time? I’m doing it my way. No more worrying about what others think. JUST MAKE THE POOP HAPPEN. Yeah, I mean that in a good, well-thought-out, slightly grungy kind of way. If I follow my heart and keep my head on straight… I don’t think I can go wrong. Besides, I’ve had my fair share of disasters. But you know what? Those wrecks are now lessons. And they’re fueling the road ahead. It’s time to get back to living. And if you’re coming along for the ride—maybe even take the wheel now and then—hell, we’re gonna flat-out enjoy the rest of this journey. See the misery, push it aside, and live it out with a smile. — A Simple Man

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The Gift After the Poopstorm!

Apr 09, 2025

Looks like I got a big ol’ gift for surviving three days of hell. Round five knocked me on my ass—easily the worst three days so far—but then, just like that, it passed. Well… mostly. My mouth and tongue are still acting a little weird, but I actually ate yesterday and got about 75% of the taste back. Not bad. My legs and feet are still doing their usual dance, but that’s old news—I’ve been dealing with that for a year or more. What I am really curious about is how I’ll feel once session six is behind me and this whole chemo chapter gets the stamp: “Graduated.” All in all, I’d say my chemo experience has been mild compared to the stories I’ve heard. But I’ll also admit—I probably made it look easier than it was by refusing to let it run my life. I kept pushing, stuck to my schedule, kept moving. I didn’t give chemo the keys to the house. I saw it for what it was: a necessary evil, and I tried to stay one step ahead of it. Maybe if I’d followed all the rules—drank more water, rested more—it might’ve gone even smoother. But I truly believe blasting everyone with my nonsense and staying connected was a huge part of why I got through it the way I did. I had a support team bigger than I ever expected, and we should all feel proud. Because yeah, this wasn’t just me—we did it. Only one more session to go. If it were up to me, I’d fuel up today and get this last one done. But no, we wait two more Mondays. The silver lining? Looks like I get two decent weekends in a row before that final plunge—at least for now. This morning on the porch, it hit me—what the hell am I gonna ramble about when chemo ends? It’s been weirdly easy to sit here and tell y’all how good or poopy I felt. To give the play-by-play on what Penthouse Dude and Basement Dweller were up to. And let’s give credit—we (not just me) kept that damn Basement Dweller in check. He popped his head up once or twice, but we shut that nonsense down quick. This building I live in—me—has held strong through it all. But in just a few weeks, I lose my chemo excuse. Then it’s time to take full control again. And I’ve still got some serious “poop” to get in order before I’m ready to run at this life full tilt. Here’s the crazy part: I think my clock might tick a hell of a lot longer than I thought it would. So now I gotta figure out what to do with that time. Truth is, I may go quiet for a bit while I shift gears. I know, I know—I’ve been saying I’m gonna shift for a while now. But it’s tough. You brace for the end… then realize it might not be coming anytime soon. And suddenly you’ve gotta figure out how to live again. A lot of my hesitation is fear. Fear to just put it all out there, to do something bold and maybe a little nuts. I still get caught up wondering what people will think. And after coming this far? That’s ridiculous. Because let’s be real—not one of you saw this version of me coming. Hell, I didn’t. Some of you knew there was something in me, sure—but not this much. And now? I’m loving where I’m at. I want to build this vision. I want to leave this wild ride on my terms and walk into whatever comes next with purpose. I’ve got some wrongs to right. Maybe I fix them all, maybe I don’t. But I’m damn sure gonna try. One of my favorite lines says, “Quicksand’s got no sense of humor.” And like clockwork, Penthouse Dude had that tune cued up this morning. I’ve spent enough years trapped in that quicksand. I’m done with it. Bottom line—I need to get past this last sliver of insecurity. Stop sweating it. Just do the thing. That’s what you all told me from the start, right? Finish this my way. Sometimes, you just gotta say “duck it” and go for it. Super grateful for the good days this round gave me. Gotta use ’em wisely. Here’s to a quick recovery after session six, and one hell of a graduation. Let’s go make some poop happen. Enjoy every day folks! – A Simple Man

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Bloody Damn Good

Apr 08, 2025

I woke up this past Sunday figuring I was about to head into Day 4 of misery with this whole chemo poop. The three days before had been, without question, the worst stretch of the entire process. I was rolling into Day 7 of Round 5, and let me tell you—I was not enjoying the ride. This round hit me hard. But I didn’t quit. I just did what I could while I meandered around the house. Managed to knock a few things off the list, but more importantly, I got a whole lot done mentally. I took some time to really work on prioritizing the important stuff. Slowed things down. Tried to change a few things I’d been doing that weren’t sitting right with me. And wouldn’t you know it—Sunday didn’t turn into Day 4 of pure misery after all. With the exception of Round 1, I actually pulled out of the hole of Round 5 faster than I ever have. I played the game, finished second, and had a pretty darn good day all around. The biggest issue is still the whole mouth and taste bullpoop—but let’s be honest, that’s probably got more to do with how I’ve taken care of it (or not) over the last forty years. Health and wellness, folks... deal with it early—not when it’s too late and you're deep into the chemo poop. One more of these wonderful fuel injections to go, and supposedly I’ll get a break from them—for now, at least. I’m definitely looking forward to the upcoming scan comparisons in a few weeks. My mindset right now is to find out if this honorary chemo degree I’ve been working on is gonna mean something moving forward. Now, let’s talk blood tests. Every Monday, like clockwork, I’ve been going in to get poked and drained. Truth is, I haven’t thought too much about them this whole time. Sure, I’ve got access to all the results through the medical portal—but I don’t check them. Never saw the point. I wouldn’t understand half of it, I wouldn’t research it, and I’m not the guy to pepper the doc with questions. In my simple world, I figure if something’s wrong, the docs will say something. That’s their lane. But a couple weeks ago, something different happened. After I filled up a test tube, they asked me to wait in the duck, duck, goose room. First time that had happened. I sat there about ten minutes, then someone came out, called my name, and said I could go. I left, but the whole “hang around a bit” thing stuck with me. Then it happened again yesterday. They asked me if I wanted to wait on the results. I said nope. But I did ask why they’ve been asking me to stick around lately. Turns out, some of my grumpy, “I don’t want to play duck, duck, goose” crowd were pitching fits about having to come back to the gym later in the day when something showed up in their results. I get the grumpiness. I never want to be that guy at the gym either—but seriously, throwing a fit because your doctor is looking out for you? Come on, folks. If they want to double-check something, just let them. Me? I told them nah, I’d head out. If something’s wrong, I trust they’ll call. And if that means a trip back to the gym, so be it. Honestly, I welcome the excuse. Gets me off my butt, gives me something to do besides sit in this chair all day. And let me say this loud and clear—the folks at the gym are nothing short of amazing. What they deal with every day, always with smiles and upbeat attitudes... it blows me away. Over seven months and I haven’t seen a single negative moment out of any of them. They’ve earned my respect ten times over. These are the people I’ve trusted to get me through this, and so far, they haven’t let me down. Sure, they’ve made me feel like poop during parts of this—but they warned me. They were crystal clear about what to expect. They were right. I owe them big time. Then wham—Mom pops up. “How’d your blood test go today?” Well, poop. Gotta admit—I didn’t know. I figured everything was fine because they didn’t call. But her asking got me thinking. I woke up wondering how my blood test really went yesterday. Thirty-five or so tests later, I actually pulled it up. Saw a few highs and lows—not by much—and decided to do something I’ve never done: I researched each one that was a little off to see what it meant. Jump to the end of that rabbit hole: Mom, and everyone else—my bloodwork looks pretty darn good. Promising, even. Bottom line—I just need to get to the next phase. See where I’m at. And keep trusting the folks running the show right now. If there’s a problem, I know they’ll catch it. I’ve got a lot to do today. Came out of the hole early this round, and I’m feeling pretty good this morning. So I’m wrapping up this little tidbit for now. Looking forward to being all I can be—today, tomorrow, and however long my buddy Penthouse Dude wants me stirring the pot on this big ol’ round ball we all play on. Have a GREAT day, everyone. — A Simple Man

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Stopped at the Intersection (Again)

Apr 06, 2025

A Sunday Morning Ramble from the Mud Room Yesterday was another pretty poopy day in the life of chemo. I got through it — overdid it a bit, but I pretty much made my mind up early that I would, and I followed through on that threat. That’s a win in my book. The worst part continues to be the mouth and tongue issues. I can manage the walking difficulties and aching feet by laying down and taking it easy, but the taste, the burning tongue, and the total lack of enjoyment with anything I eat or drink — that drives me crazy. I still eat and drink, because you have to, but I’ve had all the Play-Doh I care to have. I figure I’ve got about five more weeks of this Play-Doh diet, and then maybe we can move on. I assume everyone ate a little Play-Doh as a kid and knows what I mean. I’ve been describing it this way for months, and not a single soul has asked, “What do you mean like Play-Doh?” That makes me laugh. Somewhere between Saturday and Sunday, I started to feel the urge to pull everything I’ve been working on together. I’ve made real progress in some areas and bombed completely in others. What I still struggle with is that I can picture the end result so clearly, but I just can’t seem to understand the steps to get there. I’m all over the place — and getting advice is tough because I’m so scattered. Comes down to one thing: my lack of organization. I’m working on it, but damn… it’s been almost four months since this “vision” took hold of me, and patience is wearing thin. Of course, chemo plays a big part in that — maybe the whole part. I started to accept that last week and shifted my approach: do what I can until chemo ends, and focus on prepping for what comes after. If all goes according to plan, I should be at that point around May 5th — and in the big picture, that’s not far off. This morning, I spent some time on the Front Porch, just letting my mind wander. I ended up stuck at this mental intersection on 33 Highway — not the first time I’ve been stopped there. It's a simple intersection, but tricky for a simple man like me. I know what’s ahead: a short, straight road that leads directly to the vision. But it’s surrounded by all these other winding paths that u-turn right back to where I am now. So the question is: do I take the obvious route — the one I’ve always taken — or do I try something new? That “simple path” has always been my way, but it’s also probably the reason things have gone off track before. I know people question whether I’m real and sincere now — hell, I question it myself. My history’s rough, and I’ve got no fast fix for that. I want a fast fix, but it doesn’t exist. Maybe someday, I’ll feel like I’ve done everything I can to make it right. Now here’s the funny part — something I’ve only shared with my therapist. (She’s been helping me for free, and I can't begin to express how much that’s meant.) Our relationship is unlike any I’ve had — a bond I didn’t know could exist. I hope everyone gets to experience something like it. Anyway, when all this began, I truly believed I’d already be past the fist bumps and high fives by now. I thought I’d be wrapping this thing up. I went straight into “fix it fast” mode and floored the gas. Seven months later, I’m in the mud room, trying to type as fast as my brain’s spinning — spoiler alert: that ain’t happening. My original plan was flawed. I realized that when I admitted to my therapist recently that I didn’t expect to still be here. For two weeks now, I’ve been sitting at this new intersection, trying to figure it out. And I think I have: the right path isn’t the easy, straight one. It’s all the ones that loop me right back here. Each path has something I need to see, feel, or learn — even if I don’t know what yet. It looks like I’m going to be here longer than I thought. And it looks like I need to be. So I’m going to prepare for it, fight for it, and keep spinning the wheel. I’ll follow whichever numbered path it lands on, one at a time. No rushing. No skipping ahead. And if you made it this far into my Sunday ramble, thank you. That means the world to me. 🛣️ Share Your Journey Want to be part of this ride? I've built a way for you to share your own story — anonymously, if you want. Just you and me. No pressure. No spotlight. Just a place to let it out if you're ready. 👉 Ramblers Welcome  — A Simple Man trying to just figure it all out…

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