OK, I’m having a lousy day. I know, I’m supposed to stay positive and “keep good thoughts.” This is a time for "reflection, contemplation and understanding". To acknowledge the complexity of Life, and the simplicity of Death. To see the beauty in all things around me. Well, it’s hard when inside your brain is being eaten away and all you want to do is scream out: “What the FUCK! I’m dying here!” I want to scream out, like a man on fire. Am I supposed to just stay calm and die? This second is gone for me! This hour, this day is over for me. One more down, not many more to go. Who am I blogging to? Where is everybody? AH! Living!!!!!
And there it is. The Ants on the Anthill are working. The looks I get sometimes. Whispers. "He's dying you know." Like it's something that is not going to happen to them. HA! I'm just going first. Do you want to jump ahead in this line? Go right ahead.
My name is Mark. This is my website. That might sound selfish, but I believe I am entitled to be selfish. Brain Cancer is killing me. I have 12 to 18 months to live. I want to share my thoughts, feelings, fears and anger with you. Maybe it will be enlightening and inspiring to you. I will attempt to daily up-date my struggle, sharing the bad days and the good. If you join me on my journey, perhaps I will feel less alone and afraid as the cancer destroys more and more of me every day.
Mark's Bucket List
Mark wanted to meet Jimmy Buffet, return to Hawaii one last time and see his father once more. While these didn't happen for him, he still had hopes and dreams . . .I do. Do you?
About Mark
- Mark
- Naples, FL, United States
- Mark C. Plotkin 1/21/48 - 12/9/08 Cancer won the fight, but Mark never gave up!
Before Cancer
Here's me before.
December 7, 2008
Mark and His Brother, Jerry - Look at that Smile!
3 comments:
Bullshit on the "keeping good thoughts." I think you're supposed to do what you need to do. If that means bitching on a bad day, do it. But it's probably bad to stay in bitch mode forever. (Ask me about my grandmother sometime.)
We all have one thing in common. We suffer from a fatal disease: life. That person who is whispering about you may step outside and get hit by a bus. If it happens, gloating is acceptable, but not at the funeral, OK?
Now shut yer piehole and get out there on the catwalk and model some of those new clothes for me, schweetheart.
All you want is for me to fit into your pants. : )
Ha! Score one for you.
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