seCond danCe With the Big C

“I’m afraid it’s cancer.”

Son of a bitch!

Sorry about the language. And actually that was not my first reaction.

My first reaction was tears, right there in my doctor’s office.

Cancer? Really?

That is not what I came in to hear.

I’m Allen Tibbetts. Does he not know that? Allen Tibbetts does not get cancer.

Never mind that I beat back colon cancer almost 30 years ago. That doesn’t count. I was younger and completely invincible.

Now, I’m mid-60s and heading into the final quarter, if I’m not already there. And regardless of whether I have cancer or not.

Will that make this fight different?

Hey, I’m Allen Tibbetts, damn it!

I’m that prize you find in your Cracker Jacks. Not really worth much but it makes you happy, right?

Many years ago, in a late night session, a friend asked, “What’s your perfect life?”

I told him my dream was to make a living just being me. In a perfect world, people would walk up to me and ask, “Hey, are you Allen Tibbetts?”

“Yes, I am,” I’d say. And they would just give me money.

Knowing I was making a career out of doing a goofy morning show on the radio, he got this screwy look on his face and asked, “Isn’t that pretty much what you’re doing now?”

I didn’t argue. It was close.

Life has pretty much been a box of Lucky Charms. Pink hearts, yellow moons, green clovers… a sugary cereal and maybe not all that good for you, but what’s not to love?

Now this.

Now, another round of chemo and radiation.

This time, the cancer is in my throat. My doctor touts a great success rate but has spoken of other possible outcomes. That ‘what if’ factor.

‘What if’ it doesn’t go according to plan?

One of those ‘what ifs’ is permanently losing my voice.

Side note: I sense a secret joy in my household over that one.

Shhh… he has cancer. But really, y’all. What if we never had to listen to him anymore? How bad would that be?

Fine. But y’all would miss me saying wise things. (My specialty, if you ask me.)

In my 30’s, I let cancer treatments get the best of me for a while.

I cried a lot over nothing and slept a bunch. Having never experienced depression, I didn’t recognize it then. But looking back, it seems pretty obvious.

My wife cried with me sometimes. I didn’t like making her cry. Makes me cry thinking about it.

As I healed, I came out of it quickly, but I want it to be different this time.

I have an idea of what the side effects will be, and I’m going to try and own it. Boss it around, if I can.

I have a plan. I’m exercising more and drinking better whiskey.

I’m also eating whatever I damn well want.

And apparently cussing a lot.

Cancer.

Son of a bitch!