Michael Louis Calvillo Must Be Destroyed

This cancer thing is weird in that I get a lot of credit for being a fighter, and a survivor, and a hero of human infallibility, and all of that.

I’m not.

I mean, I’ve got stage IV cancer (blech!), and true, I am surviving, but really, what am I doing that you or any other poor S.O.B wouldn’t do?

If an alien force attacks your body from the inside out and tries to kill you before you can kill it, what are you gonna do? Are you gonna just lay there and let it do its malignant thing, or are you gonna listen to your doctors and try everything in your power to fight it off?

It’s not much of a leap to assume that we’d all fight.

I guess some people give in, but then, they probably have a host of other problems that contribute to their lack of spirit.

Which is sad, but I’m guessing entirely uncommon. Most of us have more moxy than that.

You get evil cancer, you fight the beast. That’s that. And then you’re deified (a bit strong, but given the context of this post, it works) and loved for it. I appreciate the concern and caring (and wonderful, wonderful love), but I feel kind of guilty. Sitting around aching isn’t exactly gallant. I’m not really doing anything except living with pain.

At the moment, I’m at odds with a pesky rib. The cancer must have eaten away a good hunk of it (I’ll talk to the doctor this week) and it hurts like a mean mutha.

(Ouch!)

Whatever happens at my Dr. appointment, there isn’t much anybody can do about it anyhow. If you crack or break a rib, they simply wrap it and it’s up to you to endure while the bone painfully repairs itself. So long as the cancer has been eradicated (via radiation or chemotherapy), I’m pretty much in the same boat. If the vile beast is still there, actively eating…then…well…we’ll see…but so long as these sharp, stabbing aches are the product of a cancerous aftermath (not a fresh assault) then my directives are most likely the same as someone with a cracked or broken bone.

Either way it sucks.

But that’s life, Loyal Reader.

We have to overcome the knocks and take pleasure in the little things, right?

Last night we took a few friends to dinner at a nice steak place (Wood Ranch) and you know what I had for dinner? Ribs! That’s right. I had an exquisite rack of all-American baby backs. The carmalized barbecue sauce. The fall-off-the-bone tenderness of the meat. The taste. Awesome.

And you know what?

This was the first time I have ever ordered ribs at a restaurant in my entire life!

I hate eating meat off the bone. It’s too messy. It reminds me of the source when I’d rather pretend I’m eating something…artificial. I do better with things like beans and rice and maybe even cheese (less guilt). But then, who am I kidding? I’m not a vegetarian by any stretch of the imagination.

But, these incredible ribs were super delicious and they gave me a well-needed reprieve from the throbbing bastardo plaguing my right ribcage. I’m glad I tried something different. I’ll definitely order them again, aching or not.

(Made from real babies!)

I guess the moral here is to live, Loyal Reader. Order ribs (regardless of the mess). Enjoy everything (regardless of the mess). If your body is giving you crap, find ways to overcome and make the best of it (regardless of the mess). Feeling sorry for yourself will never do (it’s very unbecoming).

Now, sing-a-long why don’t you? That revenge minded miscreant, Sweeney gets making the best of it (sort of…Ms. Lovett understands though)…