Doesn’t Matter If You’re Homeless Or Hugh Jackman, You Can Still Get Cancer–Cheers To That

September 18th, 2018

After getting diagnosed with cancer I’ve come to realize that there is something so simple that I’ve always taken for granted.

When you go to the doctor’s office and they ask you your medical history, I used to be able to say “no” to all those questions, ailments, and surgeries.

Let me give you a little brief medical history of myself.

I’m 23-years-old. I weigh maybe 125 pounds soaking wet and you’ll never know if I just told the truth about my weight or not. I am a relatively fit person thanks to all the sports I played as a wee child and awkward adolescent. I have never broken any bones. I have never smoked a cigarette. I have never smoked weed or done any illicit drugs. I’ve never prescribed medication for any physical or mental illness. Before this circus, the last time I went to the hospital was my birth. My idea of a surgery was getting my wisdom teeth removed which I tell all the doctors and they just chuckle because apparently, it doesn’t count. Tell that to my ruined Christmas break senior year of college.

Once upon a moon, I got the opportunity to answer “no” to any health issues. That whole ordeal took 30 seconds or less.

Now, I find myself telling total strangers a whole litany of my ailments. Next thing I know, it’s 30 minutes later and the nurse still can’t wrap her head around the fact that all of these ailments happened within the past 2 months. Me neither, random stranger, me neither.

As it turns out, it doesn’t matter if I was fit as a fiddle my whole life because I ended up getting cancer anyway.

My dad, my aunt, my best friends dad, the boy around the block, the sister of a friend. The list goes on and on. It doesn’t matter who you are. Cancer doesn’t seem to care.

Woo…yikes….that was dark.

What I’m trying to say is that you could be homeless and have the same chance of getting cancer as Hugh Jackman (Hugh Jackman had skin cancer just as an FYI, I’m not pulling some random, hot celebrity name out of thin air).

So at the end of the day, what does it matter what you do if we’re all screwed? Who cares if I’ve been a relatively decent human being? Cue episode of “One Tree Hill” when Lucas sees what life would be like if he never existed and then cue “It’s A Wonderful Life.”

Mull over the age-old question: is our fate pre-determined or do we determine our own fate?

Do we have a say in our lives or is it already planned out for us as soon as we’re born?

To say our fate is predetermined means that there is another force, being, spirit, chocolate bar, or what have out there that decided that no matter what I did with my prior years, at the age of 23 I was going to get cancer. Now if that chocolate bar is reading this then that’s pretty messed up.

On the flip side, if I determine my own fate what have I done to get cancer? As I mentioned above, I’m pretty fit. I haven’t done anything that would cause me to end up in jail except when I stole silly putty from a store in the mall, but even then my mom made me return it. I mean it was already-used silly putty so I don’t know what other child would want that. I should’ve just kept it but that’s beside the point. With that being said my rap sheet is pretty clean.

My belief, as my God is currently an oreo cheesecake and my church is the bakery in town, is that sometimes life just really sucks. Sometimes life throws you curveballs. Sometimes life sees you getting comfortable and thinks “nah, not today.” Sometimes life knocks you down and then makes you stay down. Sometimes life is just a bitch.

Sometimes there are now answers AND THAT IS OK. There’s no point in mopping around asking “why me?” when there’s no answer that is going to satisfy me. Maya Angelou (lovely women saw her speak at Elon once so we were pretty tight) once said, “you may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them.”

I may not have lived for many years but I know that life has the capacity to kick the shit out of you. I also know that in a few months from now, I’m going to be rocking a bald head better than Vin Diesel and everyone’s going to be jealous.

I cannot control the fact that I got cancer or else we wouldn’t be here right now but I can sure as hell control how I let it affect me as a person. I’m not going to pick up smoking, I’m not going to go rob a bank, I’m not going to steal silly putty from a store again. If I had the option to erase my past and get promised that I would never get cancer, I’m 99.9% positive I would say no (I haven’t started chemo yet so I’m leaving myself .01% chance to change my mind). If I erased it all then I wouldn’t be the person I am today and that would just be a shame for all of you.

I’m not asking nor do I want an answer to any of life’s existential questions. Nor do I need “God only gives you what you can handle” because apparently, he must think I’m the Hulk and has never met me.

Let’s be real and remember I’m of average strength pumping some 8-pound irons back in my heyday. If there was an option to unsubscribe I would’ve clicked it. If there was an option to get off the ride I would’ve hopped out. If there was an option to jump ship I would be swimming back to shore in shark-infested waters. If there was an option to put the “Do Not Disturb” sign outside the door, I would’ve hung it.

Shit happens, this happened, oh well.

We’re in it for the long haul over the next few months so buckle up, I guarantee it’s going to be a bumpy ride.

Don’t you just love when things end so corny?