Thirty three years ago I came down with a bad case of cancer. It was one of those things you think only happen to somebody else. I was a thirty eight year old gay man and it was 1988. My immediate fear was AIDS. It wasn't. It was just run of the mill, non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. I was given a choice. Do twelve weeks of intense chemo therapy, or many months of lesser chemo treatments that wouldn't cause as many side effects. The first choice was considered more effective, so that's what I did. My hair fell out. Every single hair on my body fell out. Yes, every single hair, everywhere on my body. I gained weight from the prednisone I was taking. I looked like Uncle Fester from the Addam's Family. It was a horrible time in my life.
Every Thursday I went to Presbyterian Saint Luke's hospital for chemo treatments. Those treatments made me weak and nauseous. My memory of the first chemo treatment is that I projectile vomited soon after. Somebody should have warned me not to eat. Anyway, as bad as all that sounds I was not alone. Every Thursday for twelve weeks, my Dad and Mom drove all the way up to the north side of Chicago from Tinley Park. They would pick me up and drive me to those chemo appointments. I hadn't lived in their house for nearly twenty years and felt very independent. That did not matter to them, I was their son. I was just one of their eleven children, yet every Thursday for twelve weeks I was number one.
Love you Mom. Miss you Dad.
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| Uncle Fester |
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