My brother has cancer

My brother has cancer. It sounds … unbelievable, unreal.. I say it, the words, but the true weight of them is absent. Is that denial? I cry. I’m worried. I’ve researched articles on the disease, on treatments, on support and still it’s like this is happening to someone else. How stupid of me, it is happening to someone else, it’s happening to my brother. It is treatable, but nothing is 100% and the doctors don’t sugar coat anything. Our mother wants guarantees because she is a mother, our mother, his mother. Steven’s odds are very good, his odds…what a horrible thought. Words like odds don’t belong in the same sentence with my brother’s name. Forty four radiation treatments, 4 to 5 times a week and my brother will get tired, very tired and he will lose his hair.

I want to take the disease into myself because…I can get angry at it, fight it, and hate it. I don’t feel stronger than he is; I’m not more deserving of cancer but he is so very undeserving. When the phrase, “life is unfair,” was coined I suppose this is what they meant. I suppose the definition of the word helpless is what I feel right now.

He says he doesn’t feel sick, he says he feels fine but then he tells me that he is looking for things…things that he hasn’t seen in a long time, like his high school ring.

“The last time I saw it was before the move. It was still in the box, the price tag was still on it. You know the foam stuff that holds it in place.
”
“Yeah,” I say.

“It had turned to dust, totally disintegrated. And now I can’t find it.”

He’s called old friends too. This is how I know that he’s worried. His girlfriend said he was being mean to her about small things, arguing, complaining, about nothing really. She told me that’s how she knows the stress is getting to him. She understands. He’s frustrated and she’s close, so she bears the brunt of that frustration. She lets it pass.

I guess when your own mortality slaps you in the face you go through a wide range of unpleasant emotions. Think about it. We all, all of us, live our lives believing that yes someday we will die, but none of us actually lives our lives like we truly believe it. We maintain an unfounded belief in our own immortality; constantly plan ahead for the next day, the next year or our retirement. We do this in spite of the fact that the future is not guaranteed. Nothing is 100%.

La Concha Hotel San Juan, Puerto Rico or Pool Crashing Part Duex

I recently spent time in Puerto Rico…ah writing…yeah. I was supposed to be writing and I have the bitchin tan to prove it. So I would like to give props to the folks at La Concha Hotel. As I said in my previous posting the Marriott has a nice pool despite the peeping Toms that were frequenting the place when I was there. Eventually, we were busted by an employee who was a hard ass about us crashing the pool. He directed us to a place where we could buy a non guest pass for a whopping $30 per person per day. Sorry Marriott your pool ain’t that special.



This brings me to the lovely folks at La Concha who don’t seem to mind non guests using their awesome pool, especially nicely attired folks who hit the bar right off the bat and start a tab, like me and my friends. Let’s do the math shall we. Marriott zero dollars, La Concha …I don’t really remember but it included lunch sometimes…I think…yeah, I’m pretty sure about lunch. Drinks were expensive, but the point is that they got my cash and Marriott did not. La Concha has beds on the beach and massages and ice water and people who bring you drinks.



So Marriott, poop on you and your over crowded family oriented swimming pool. Oh and it turns out that the bar at La Concha is one of San Juan’s hippest night spots on Friday nights.



Now I can include my bitchin photos of La Concha and no…. these aren’t the hotel’s PR photos. I took these all by myself.