Rodney Curtis

It hasn’t been easy.

Before I launch into why or what hasn’t been easy I should explain, as an example, that typing the word “easy” took three different attempts. My vision goes in and out at close range. It could be the result of the natural progression of age but I find myself blaming it, among a myriad of other maladies, on the chemicals that — in the past via chemotherapy and now with the 20 pills I take daily — have scrambled my body and to some extent my brain as well.

Yes, I just had to re-read and modify that previous sentence to make sure it contained a shred of sense. Do you see where I am?

It’s my new normal, as much as I despise that phrase. I want my old normal back. As I get better, I expect my body to follow a linear progression upwards. Who am I kidding? I demand that progress. I feel like a character in a movie who goes through tremendous turmoil but during the montage scene, two thirds of the way through, rebuilds and reconstructs his life and comes out the winner.

Sometimes there’s a soundtrack to this phase. Generally though it’s just the weird burbles in my stomach and my wife and kids encouraging me, understanding when all I want to do is sleep. Winter is a good time for the sleep excuse. Rebuilding isn’t always being the fighter in the meat locker punching sides of beef. (If you don’t understand that last sentence you’re either very young or don’t like movies all that much. Google the sentence if you must, starting with “fighter.” The first of 70 some pages will help you. The very last entry at the bottom of page 71 from “ask the meat man dot com” probably won’t.)

I choose or chose the fighting analogy flippantly but there are parallels. There is a constant war going on in my body called GVHD which sounds like something in high def. In reality it’s called Graft Versus Host Disease and refers to my brother’s blood rejecting my body as its new home. You want a little of that war to happen. And so far, the battlefield has been my skin, of all places and my mouth, if you can believe it.

Hey, I’m not writing all this for sympathy. It’s just the most honest answer I have to the frequent question, “how are you doing?” I frankly don’t even know if I’ll post this. But the Steve Jobs note is so stale I need something different to ward off of the cobwebs. Besides, I just saw a photo of Jobs having dinner with Obama and several tech leaders so he’s probably doing okay.

This past week of sunshine and almost 60 degree temperatures worked wonders for my mood. My pill-infused tummy even felt a bit better, less chaotic. Then the foot of snow arrived and I was sure it would bury my levity. But so far, no, I am back in training and the montage scene has reached its crescendo.

What the fighter does now, the audience doesn’t really know. But nobody buys tickets to comedy-dramas without expecting a few twists along the way towards a warm, satisfying ending.

And by “ending” I mean beginning.