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Chemo and Vino

June 29, 2008

Its crappy and draining business telling your closest friends and family that you have cancer. Luckily, my surgeon did it for me while I was still high on a bunch of good drugs. But what to do about everyone else you care about? Or even folks that you don’t really like at all but have to be told for some stupid reason; like maybe they sign your paycheck or approve vacation time? I decided to go the email route. This is what I sent out about a week after surgery:

 

Dear friends,

As many of you may know, I had to have surgery on Wednesday to remove a cyst from my ovary. Unfortunately when the doctors got in there they found it was actually colon cancer.

My surgery went very well and I’m enjoying a lot of daytime TV and narcotics for a while. My outlook is very positive and I’ve enjoyed all of the visitors, cards, flowers, emails and porn that folks have sent me.  (No one really sent me porn, I just thought that would be a hilarious ‘get well’ present.)

Due to the surgery, I have started early menopause, so the hot flashes and such have been pretty weird, but manageable. If any of you notice me trying to shop at Chicos or buy a red hat, I expect you to intervene.

 So, again, I apologize for the mass email, but I wanted my friends to hear this news from me. I totally don’t mind talking about this, so don’t be afraid to drop me a note and say hi.

I actually look pretty darned good after having surgery just a week ago and I’m up and walking a block or two every day. My doc actually cleared me to drink a little bit of wine with dinner!

 So – that’s the scoop. I have cancer. It sucks. I plan to kick its butt.

much love and gratitude to you all,
 
Chris

 

Could it have been a kinder, gentler note? Sure. But that would have really freaked my friends out. By attaching a bit of personality and cussing to the facts, I was hoping to let my pals know that I would ultimately be OK. Whatever OK may be from now on. Only you know how to break it to your crew, but I suggest being as close to your “normal self” as possible. You haven’t changed; just some retard cells in your body have.

 
 
 

 

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2 comments

  1. Thank you so much, Chris! Your words and thoughts are mine. Just found out that I have a lymphoma in a very rare place – cheekbone (sinus gland). Tomorrow I have my first visit with the oncologist and that is really when it will all hit me in the face.(literally)

    I have no intention of dying for I have one fabulous man and four incredible women in my life but the fear rips through me when I am most vulnerable.

    I wish you the best…..Leah


  2. You definitely have a way with words. I was laughing throughout your post which is probably the wrong reaction, but I can tell you know how to make light of not-so-great situations. Your letter was great to everyone.

    Are you some sort of author? I’m completely sucked into your blog!



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