Just Wrapping This Part Up

This one feels a little strange to write.

It’s been just over four months since I had my first fuel injection. I had five more after that, and now... there aren’t any more scheduled. I’m a week away from my PET scan—the one that tells us what all this fuel they’ve pumped into me has actually accomplished.

Funny thing is, I never even saw the original PET scan. Didn’t know that was a thing, honestly. I’ve just been riding shotgun, trusting my doc and his team from the start. I followed their map, stopped at the checkpoints, and now it feels like I’ve reached the end of this curve in the road.

May 12, 2025—eight months since diagnosis—I’ll be busy.

That day includes a final chemo appointment, one last hang with the doc, a ride through the scanner, and whatever version of a bell ringing fits in my world. Then... I wait.

I’ll be real—I’m anxious. Penthouse Dude and Twig are riding with me, and there’s been a whole lot of wheel-spinning going on upstairs.

🌀 Climbing Out of the Crash

This past week, I came out of the final chemo crash—at least for now. Took a couple of days where I thought I was bouncing back, then got knocked down again. But as I sit here Saturday night, I think I’ve reached the top of the stairs.

I still feel tired. Worn down. But it’s improving.

Technically, there’s still a week to go in this round, but something’s different this time—I see signs of myself returning. Physically. Mentally. And I think I notice it more because this time... I’m not gearing up to go backwards again in seven days.

People tell me I look better. My color’s back. I don’t look like I’m going to fall over at any second. My skin isn’t alligator-hide anymore, and I’m slowly regaining a bit of strength.

Everything right now feels positive.

And maybe that’s why the anxiety’s building.
Because in my head? I think chemo’s worked. I really do.
And if the scans come back saying otherwise… yeah, that would be a tough one to swallow.

I’m tired of driving this same stretch of road, staring at the same scenery.
I’m ready to turn toward something brighter.

🧠 A Mental Curveball

I’ll be honest: part of me is more nervous about good news than bad.

I’ve already started wondering… what if I hear it’s amazing news? That the outlook is really good?
Will that change this version of life I’ve fallen into?
Will it mess with the mental shift I’ve made?

Because lately, I’ve had to work a little harder to stay on this emotional path. It’s not as effortless as it was even a week ago. And I don’t want to lose it. I don’t want to go back.

I’ve fallen in love with this dude with cancer—with the version of me that showed up when everything fell apart.

I don’t know where this road leads, but I’m finally sure it can’t be too bad.

Living life with a small hiccup that changed everything...
—A Simple Man

P.S.
If you or someone you know is battling something like what I’m walking through—
and they just want to shoot the poop with a guy who doesn’t have all the answers,
doesn’t preach, doesn’t push… just shares and listens—
my door is open.

Always will be.

Smiles. A wicked path. And a hug.