Holding on. Why is everything so heavy? part 1 and part 2

Part 1:

Holding on

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Don't really know where to start here, as per UZH!!!! I guess you all might need a bit of awkward, unorganized backstory vaguely describing my last few months. So here ya have it, folks!

     I was in Houston about a month ago for some tests, one being a blood biopsy. Details of what that means aren't that important. Google it if you must, but it's just a way to figure some shit out. More details for story's sake: I have had some tumor growth and spikes in my liver enzymes over the last 3 months or so despite having incredible results just before to the point where they actually weren't able to see any tumors! The most incredible results! Liver enzymes, by the way, are a way to see how hard the old gal is working and she's a working, team. Sheeeeee's a workin. God Bless her.

     Flew into Houston this last Sunday with the expectation of having an exploratory laparoscopy to check out my liver, assess the damage the cancer and chemo as done, and then see if the tumor was operable. I was going into this with the only expectation being that I'd acquire more knowledge about what's going on. I wasn't holding my breath about the surgery and I wasn't going to be let down if they said I was not a candidate for it. It was just more info for me, my family, and my doctors to assess and use for further treatment.

      The exploratory surgery went off without a hitch, recovered like Wolverine in typical fashion, but it turns out I was not eligible for daddy surgery. Bummer, but oh well! Now, here's where some bullshit happened. While they were in there, they saw that my liver has been getting its head kicked in. I mean, Ol' Livvy (hereinafter referred to as Erika for reasons) has been through a lot, what with the chemo, the cancer, and maybe me giving it the occasional pump up punch (they work, i swear.) The equipment in Houston is some next level shit, so it also picked up a few more tumors than the stuff at home did. So there's also that. #sick #tight #blessed

      ON TOP OF THAT they discovered that the chemo that was so effective for so long stopped working. Apparently every cell in my body, healthy or otherwise, is stubborn as fuck. So my healthy cells were like "bro....get tf out of here. I'm sick of your shit." and developed a mutation to fight the ol' cheem cheem. Pretty fucking cool actually. But of the 3 chemos I've been getting, one isn't working and the other two are just running rampant and have been wreaking havoc on poor Erika fro 4 months. A lot less fucking cool. She's a little upset with Papa bear.

    So, now we're here. A few extra tumors I didn't know about, Erika just went three full bouts against Conor McGregor (knocked that bitch out each time though....) can't have surgery, and.......we're in a pretty rough spot here.

     One doctor wants to do radiation because it would wipe out the tumors, but, due to the beating Erika's taken, he can't because there's a high risk of it pushing me into liver failure(read: It would definitely happen) and that would totally fucking suck even though failure isn't in Erika's vocabulary. Radiation these days is SUPER accurate which I didn't know. It's no longer just blasting the whole organ with radiation, they shoot hyper accurate laser beams at the tumors. Also pretty cool, but even with that level of accuracy the small, small amount of healthy liver it would singe would do this thing called throw me into liver failure. Probably. Would still totally suck.

     Now, here's the good news. Remember the blood biopsy I mentioned early? Well, if you googled it, you're about to find out why what it is really doesn't matter and that you should have just listened to me so go fuck yourself. Results from all those tests came back and they were actually what discovered the mutation I developed in the first place. So they discovered why the chemo wasn't working. That's awesome, right?! Well!!!! They also discovered a totally different chemo that ignores the mutation and it still works and will be effective! Dope!! On top of that, it's less harsh and I won't require the other chemo that is beating my liver up! Super doope!! Erika gets a bit of a breather, chemo goes back to working, bing bang boom.

     Now, That's well and good. But here's the deal...effective chemo or not, I've been getting A LOT of chemo for a long time now. Two years now, with two other radiation based procedures mixed in I've been handling all of it and the side effects really well for the most part, but can I do it forever?

              Now if I were a betting man, and I'm a betting man, I'd for sure bet on myself. I will always bet on myself because fuck the odds. However, I don't WANT to do this forever. I will if needed, of course, but I really don't want to. Believe it or not, the rumors are true: Chemo fucking blows.
                                                    I want that fucking radiation.
                                                    I want to blast this shit to smithereens.
                                                    I want it to fucking die.

     Now, in order for me to do that I need to normalize my liver enzymes. My liver enzymes are very high like I said earlier, but going off the harsh chemo should help a lot. Food intake will help a lot. My mental state and focus will help the most....uss.

     Now if I can do it, I will be eligible to receive radiation. That would kill a whole mess of the cancer. a whole fucking mess of it that I want to kill. It will do some serious damage, but Erika can handle it. She'll be fed the good good for a few months and feel like a super saiyan. It would also give me another opportunity to raise my middle fingers and thrust it in everyone's face that said I can't. I've made a career out of that shit. Tell me again. I live and breath that shit. So fuck you.

Fact of the matter is though, it's game time. I can do this, but I'm at the point where minor set backs aren't minor any more. So, I'll grab the ol' lunch pail and get to work and if I could ask all of you fine folks for your continued thoughts, prayers, vibes, vaginal jade eggs, or whatever else you hippies do. That would be just excellent and most appreciated. Thank you. <3

Interlude:

Erika

(Scroll to part 2 if you don't give a shit about my liver's nickname)

     The Liver.

               The Filthy Filter.

                    The Dastardly Distiller.

                          The Lungs. That we Call Liver. Because They're Not Quite The Same. Separate, but                              Equal.

                                     The Ol' Soak Through.

                                               The Big Ooze.

                                                    The Duchess.

                                                           Ol' Livvy.

     Names all of us have used to describe our livers and livers around the world. My liver, she goes by Erika. It's not a very long story, but it starts in a hotel room. a boy. on his phone. on instagram........

         In a very special, invite only, group called The Thunk Tank someone said to me, in a conversation semi revolving around this general subject and of me complaining,

Friend 1: "You don't complain about shit outside of politics."

Me: 'The health of America is more important than the health of my liver."

Friend 2: "That's sort of true tho..."

Friend 1: "An America without Matt is not America."

(really great half time line right there. Got my freedom juices flowing.)

Me: "Let's just call her America."

Me: "América. For better representation."

Friend 2: "What about Suzanne?"

Friend 2: "Erika for short!"

Friend 1: "Fucking Erika."

Me: Erika. That's it. A popular Japanese name that thinks it's Japanese, but that shit is so clearly European. It's fucking Erika.

Spoiler alert: Sometimes I think I'm Japanese.

Then I found out that some of the roots of the word mean "one, alone, or unique." We have a joke in that group that I'm a One Man Wolf Pack. So...............

It's fucking Erika.


Friend 3: "Erika's a bad word, bro." (presumably about a girl or relationship that went sour)

We ignored that though.

<3

Part 2:

Why is Everything So Heavy?

     Now, I'm really not one to blast my emotions about all of this every where or to talk about certain things that inspire me or what tools I use to get me through all of this bullshit, but occasionally something happens where I feel like I should mention one. The last one being that beautiful soul Craig Sager whose energy and abundance of joy I fed off of daily. Truly a wonderful guy who dealt with what I'm dealing with with infinite grace and an iron jaw. Love him. He sadly left us for the next place.

     The one I want to talk about today is sort of wishy washy. A lot of thoughts are happening at once about this one and I'm not really sure what to talk about or how to talk about it, but I do know one thing I use to help me get through all of my issues and to help me deal with the stress. That's music. Certain songs in particular.

     There's A LOT of songs and musicians I listen to to gain strength or to find a second wind. A lot of times it's the pure feeling it makes me feel, the raw emotion it evokes, or the lyrical content.
        Some of the mainstays are:

            River Flows in You - Yiruma
            River Flows in You - Sungha Jung (they deserve their own shout outs)

            Angels on my Side - Rick Astley  (seriously. Soul Pop, team. Soul Pop. 50. Great album)

            Maggie May - Rod Stewart

            Want to Want Me - Jason Derulo
            I Took a Pill in Ibiza - Mike Posner (Seeb remix)

            Sia. Just all of Sia.

            Foxy Shazam and Coheed's entire discography.

            The Rocky Soundtracks (Every. Single. Day)

            Heavy - Linkin Park

     Now.....Typing that last one today is weird and I don't really know how to address it. I love the song because Linkin Park successfully, again, went to a different genre and succeeded. I haven't really liked Linkin Park in a loooong time, but I, like most of us, did at one point. Meant a lot to me then somehow. The real story here though is that their newest song "Heavy" spoke to me. It asked questions and touched about things that I could so intimately relate to, now more than ever.

     When you go through certain type of mental and emotional struggles, you tend to find heroes around you to feed off of and help get you through them. I have my family and friends who are god damned miracle workers and do more than you all could possibly imagine, but then you find people like Craig Sager, Frederick Douglass, Russell Westbrook, Conor McGregor, Muhammad Ali, Han Solo, Bernie Sanders, and.....Heavy by Linkin Park.

     Now, I don't know if I feel comfortable saying Chester Bennington has been my hero through all of this because I don't know how true that is. What I do know that, whoever that song personified was. Something about the lyrics were so depressing and melancholy, but Chester sang it in a way that was honest, sincere, and hopeful. I heard it as everything was so heavy, life is full of bullshit, but I'm still holding on. Maybe I heard it that way because I needed to, but who knows. It was working and it meant a lot to me. And whoever the person who it was about meant a lot to me.

     After the news of Chester's suicide this morning, it turns that song song wasn't just a song to me. It was more than a song to Chester as well. Turns out that that song was him entirely and probably not diluted by the horseshit that is Hollywood. So really, it turns out that Chester Bennington was unknowingly my hero. Which is weird to think about. I'm not really sure what to say about all of this or why I'm saying it really, but I know enough that I wanted to mention Chester in some way as just a public showing of my appreciation for what he's done for me lately (and I guess all of those years ago?)
   
     Suicide is a weird thing. It's especially weird for me to hear. Initially I think about how ungrateful those people are and how fucking unfair it is. It's hard for me to find sympathy at first for obvious reasons. Then I think about it for a moment. I'm going through some shit right now and it's heavy. I can't come close to defining the amount of emotion, the thoughts, and the feelings going on in my head at any given point in time - or even what they are! It's a lot, team. Dealing with them all is even more of a fucking event. These aren't feelings people feel unless they're in particular situations and luckily most people never come close to those particular situations. I would say the hardest part of this is that there's no blue print for me to follow. It's all so new. It's all so serious. It's just so fucking much. like I said, I can't explain it. Or I'm not in the mood to currently. But...even I'm not planning on offing myself.

          Then it hits me, what the fuck could this poor shmuck possibly be feeling or going through if this is what he thought was the answer?

          Enter Sympathy. Guys, it makes me feel sad. Terribly, terribly sad. It kills me so much that there are people out there, some that I probably know, that are feeling this about themselves or their lives or whatever. I don't know. I really hope that with another very public suicide that a healthy dialogue about mental health earnestly opens up in this country and that we're able to address such heavy topics without taboo or assumption.

I never said Part 2 was going to be well written, team.
      I said I needed to say something.
          For the record.
              Team.

     I don't know why exactly I'm writing any of this or how (clearly,) but I just want you all to know that I am so impossibly grateful for all of you in my life. All of you are such beautiful people, whether it's my immediate family, my girlfriend, my close circle of friends, or anyone beyond. If I've met you, if I've talked to you, if we've had ANY interaction. I remember you and I promise you I appreciate you. From all of the nice things you all have said to me over, not just the last two years, but the last 27, to all of the things you've done for me in the same time span. All of it has culminated to me getting this far and being who I am. I fucking love myself and I have all of you to thank for that.

     Speaking of all of those nice things, I never want to be remembered for them. I never want to be remembered for the things we've done or the things we've been through. I never want to be a memory.
     I want to continue to be those things for you, or do those things for you, or go through more bullshit together! I want what's transpired over the last two years to be one of the many stories I share with you. I use all of you every day as inspiration to get through whatever bullshit I'm going through in any particular moment. I think about the people I've met and the friends I have multiple times per day and I can't thank you guys enough.

Now, my final point I suppose is that if ANY of you come close to feeling what Chester Bennington did I will do my damnedest to try and recognize it and reach out, but if I'm missing something or if it's 3, 4, 5, 6 in the morning and you got a big cases of the anxieties please come find me. I know that's the stupidest type of advice, but the only thing I can say is I promise I know how shitty life is and I will do everything in my power to show you what an integral part you play in the beautiful thing we call life. Life isn't mine, it's not yours, it's ours. It's all of ours. We're a fucking team out here and all of us are in it together. It's so easy for any of us to periodically lose sight of that, but we're all humans, baby. It's in our DNA to help each other out. (Except in politics apparently, but they're probbbaaably Reptilians. Let's be honest.) But please. If something is getting too heavy, please unload it on me. I still got some room left. We'll get through it together.

Love you.

<3

Sorry for the super lengthy, unorganized, poorly written, hitting everywhere Part 2. But I warned you! I think! If I didn't, jokes on you I guess.

P.S. I've been given the suggestion of having an ask me anything about cancer some time. About my feelings, about what I go through, my day to day, treatment, fears, relationships, or literally anything. I know there's such a weird, morbid aura about that topic that people want to fucking know about, but are too scared to ask any random person with cancer. I didn't always have cancer. I fucking know. So that shit's not off the table either. If that's something you'd be interested in, let me know. I'll start compiling or putting something together to get it moving.

Stay Juicy

Matthew "OMWP" Klamka







   

Problems

Well it seems I'm updating this less and less. I'm going to do my best to change that, but for whatever reason writing is not coming easy to me anymore. Writer's block of the century! So for the time being, ya'll (read: me) are stuck with whatever the fuck this is:

PROBLEMS.

Sometimes you need to give yourself a pep talk

Look at yourself in the mirror and say

“Go ahead and bring that chin up.”

The world’s not all fun and games.

Seems good times are few and the bad comes in waves

It’s up to me and you to see one another through

She’s a cruel one, the mistress we call life.

She rubs your back before driving in the knife

No excuses, play like a champion.

Look to one another to lean on

There’s no better way to end the day

Knowing that in some little way

You helped someone who went astray.

We all need a little bit of guidance

A little bit of help now and then

Has helped millions of (wo)men

Get over a millon of problems.

Brought to you by the font Arial

On Writing: Vulnerability

Not really a post. Not really anything. I wrote this thing in my head a few minutes ago. I want to post it now before I edit any of it to keep its sincerity. I don't have many moments of weakness, but I have a whole lot of pep talks. This is a spoken word style pep talk, I suppose. This is very personal and it's taking a lot to post this. I don't like showing vulnerability.

24.

got diagnosed with colon cancer

Put a damper on my journey of looking for all the answers.

Fuck it's such a heavy cross to carry.

Ya boy can't even eat red meat or dairy!

    Looking to the heavens
         waiting to see if He hears my plea.

        
                 Dear Dad, Why have you forsaken me?

It’d be great to have someone pull me along, but fuck it
If not I’ll do all of this alone.

Fuck it's such a heavy burden to bear.

  Only He knows if I can make it through this scare.

       Getting so lost I started smoking trees.

            Looking where to go asking please, please,

                                                                    PLEASE!

I don’t care what the docs say
You’ve all been wrong anyway.
Ya’ll said I had 3 months left to live
I told you I had a bottomless pit of shits I don’t give.

Nothing can make a heart of gold go cold.

Even if smoking dope to cope with losing hope
is getting so damn old.

I've got the strength of 13 men.
I don’t give a fuck if I have bad luck,
Even this can't do me in.

Eyes on high, piercing through the sky

Looking to the heavens and asking "Why?

   What did I do to deserve this mess?"

Dressed head to toe in my Sunday’s best,
   I’ve looked the Devil in the eye and spit in his face,
      Even he can’t keep up with my pace.

Give me all of the legions of hell
I’ll put all you fucks under the same damn spell
What attempt is this?
     First,
           Second,
                    third,
                        Fourth,
                                 Fifth?

Fuck it, go for a sixth.
Hate it break it, Lucy, I'm not the guy you want to dance with.

In Memoriam Craig Sager

Hey team!

     Sorry I haven't posted since 9/9. It turns out someone forgot to wake me up when September ended, but fret not, this is My December. I have a lengthier post in the ol' pipeline right now, but she's waiting on some photographic accompaniments so until then you get this young buck.

     Someone once said to me, "Hey! You should write a blog about cancer and you're struggle with it!" and I responded, "lolfuckthatbro." I didn't want to for a lot of reasons, but mostly I just don't really care to talk about it. If someone brings it up and wants to talk about what's going on, I can and will give you an earful. I'm in a real unique and bizarre situation so I fully understand all of the curiosity...

...especially the morbid musings. We all sort of know what cancer is. We hear it all the time on commercials, TV, the NFL, and, more importantly, our day to day life. Most of us don't really know what it entails, but we know what the end results usually are. You get diagnosed, you get pumped full of poison, and then you usually die, but not without being given the opportunity to yank a few mores years out of Death's grasp and live a bit longer, reflect on your past, present, and potential future, mend up relations, and yatta yatta yatta. We're also told that the extra years you're provided usually are full of pain, sadness, and feeling like shit. While that is sort of true, it's mostly horseshit. I just want everyone to know that.

     There's really only one thing to do when you're given such news and it sure as shit isn't crying, moping, and being a total Debbie Downer. The only way to take it is for what it is and that's a second chance, a gift, hitting the pause button to reassess your life, and learn to get the fuck over it. As weird as this probably is to hear, it's probably harder to say it, but this whole cancer mess might be the best thing to ever happen to me. It's brought my family closer together, afforded me an entirely different outlook on life (and it's really no where near as bleak as we are all led to believe,) I've never taken care of my body this well or have felt this good before in my life, but most importantly it gave me chance after chance after chance to look those who are (allegedly) far more knowledgeable than I am right in the eye and give them one big, fat "Told you so. lol."

     Seriously, you all know how much I like giving the ol' ITYS card so this has really been a great run. I think I've done a good job of keeping my head on straight and staying sane, driven, excited, and optimistic. I've obviously taken some hits and have had my challenges along the way, but this journey has been easier than I thought and a total gift, all things considered, and as much as I'd like to take credit for doing it on my own, I can't. As many of you know, an incredible, incredible human being was just taken away from us by the name of Craig Sager. As much as I've leaned on my immediate support system over the past 18 months, there hasn't been a soul in the world that I've looked up to more than Craig Sager. When this all started for me, I honestly felt like I was very capable and very well-equipped to handle this and I don't think I was wrong about that, but having a high level of confidence coupled with the continuation of proving doctors, doubters, and delusionals wrong can take you places where people shouldn't go very often. I felt invincible, almost infallible even, like how can anyone be doing better than this? I was even called an X-Man which means I'm one step closer to reaching my goal of becoming Hugh Jackman.

    Then the news of Craig Sager's diagnosis came to fruition. He was 63 at the time and needed radiation therapy, bone marrow transplants, dialysis, the whole fucking nine, ya got it? That's tough shit. that's real tough (wo)man shit. That's tough to endure at any age, let alone 63, but the way Craig Sager went about it was truly remarkable. His attitude was some next level shit. His tact, his poise, his unfailing optimism, his ambition, and ever present smile truly made him my rock. I don't often complain, I don't often get sad, miserable, or whatever synonym you want to drop here. I've tried to remain stoic and pragmatic, and mostly cheerful, but even I have moments of weakness. It is shockingly easy to talk yourself into complacency, or into giving up, or this, that, and the other. Whenever any sort of negative thoughts entered my head, I immediately turned to Craig Sager and without fail he inspired me to pin back my ears, grab my lunch box, and go to work. His infectious cheerfulness, humor, and lightheartedness were hard NOT to catch and the best part about it is that it wasn't a farce, a gimmick, or a facade. As I'm sure anyone who watches basketball know that that's just who the guy was. He always had a smile, a joke, a hug, or a laugh to give. If players or coaches ever gave him a hard time or tried pushing his buttons, he laughed it off. Even in his darkest hours, being challenged by something bigger than he's ever encountered, he STILL remained who he was and never let his convictions falter. When people say "Be better," they're referring to the benchmark that Craig Sager set. Everyone needs a hero and he's mine.

    This post was supposed to be me telling everyone about my recent computer issues and that I will have a post talking about the morbidity, side effects, and all that juicy goodness of cancer. Someone told me I should write about the goings on behind the scenes because there might be someone out there that needs to hear them and I didn't really understand that concept until I realized that even I needed someone. The post clearly turned into something much more than that and it still isn't about photography. If I'm being honest it's getting a bit hard for me to write right now and I've already gotten too emotional for my liking so I'm going to have to put the rest of what he meant to me on hold for now. Here's one of my favorite quotes of his

“If I’ve learned anything through all of this, it’s that each and every day is a canvas, waiting to be painted — an opportunity for love, for fun, for living, for learning."
                                               -Craig Sager 

I will run with the bulls in Pamplona,  I will race Andretti in Indianapolis. I will climb the Great Wall of China. I will wrestle gators in Florida. I will sail the ocean with Ted Turner (probably someone else.) I will swim the oceans in the Caribbean.  I won't jump out of airplanes over Kansas though, fuck that. Call me King Louie 'cause I wan'na be like you, Craig.

To once again quote you,

“I will never give up, and I will never give in. I will continue to keep fighting, sucking the marrow out of life, as life sucks the marrow out of me. I will live my life full of love and full of fun. It’s the only way I know how.”

                                                           -Craig Sager

RIP You beautiful man.

P.S. Oh, and I don't plan on dying, folks.

On Photograp...Gotcha! On Attitude. On Meditation. sort of?

Who Knows, really?  


     I have two months of blog post topics planned, laid out, and in a format for me to stick to, but each week I look at it and just give it the finger. I might be the most irresponsible blogger of all time. Do I count as a blogger if I'm the only one who reads it? Well...the answer to that is addressed in this blog! Sort of.

   Today it's all about attitude. Objectively speaking, my life sort of sucks. I was living the dream as a world renowned thespian in Los Angeles when out of no where my colon was tickled by the kiss of cancer. I had to throw away my dream, abandon the progress I've made, and move back into my parents' house in Arizona. I've also been unemployed for over a year, which sounds great, but it gets old. I'll address that in the forthcoming photography post.

"My colon was tickled by the kiss of cancer."

    That was the most satisfying use the a) the quote function, and, b) Comic Sans.

    I think everything is awesome. I'm awesome, you're awesome, my dogs are awesome, your dogs are second place awesome, everything is awesome. I don't always show it, but I truly, truly love everyone I meet and everything that's come into my life. I know that sounds like hyperbole, but the amount of appreciation that I have for literally everything that I've experienced is...large. How's that for a adjective based let down?

     I meditate two to three times per day. Mindfulness Meditation when I wake up and before bed and various moments of self reflection drizzled in throughout the day . The two MM sessions keep me focused, grateful, and open, but the fleeting moments of loneliness that I spend with myself are where the real magic happens. I quickly, deliberately draw upon every problem in my life and deeply focus on each one. I then let them all go and quickly, deliberately draw upon every blessing in my life and deeply focus on each one. If you're being honest, it will be overwhelming and incredibly emotional.
I'll do a quick on on having cancer: I was swimming in the ocean of cancer past all the things about it that I can't change and I arrived on the shore of Friendship Island.

“…fleeting moments of loneliness that I spend with myself are where the real magic happens”

Honestly, and I'm crying now, cancer has been one of my biggest blessings, too. It threatened so much of my year. It threatened to not let me see my best friend marry the love of his life, it threatened to not let me meet my brand new nephew or to see the unadulterated look of happiness on my sister's and mom's faces, it threatened to abandon my loving girlfriend in a desert by herself, it threatened to take my parents baby boy from them, it threatened to take Brody and Gertie's dad away from them.

     Friendship Island is my favorite place in all of Cancer Ocean. To use my buddy's wedding for example; I was a walking ball of happiness and anxiety the entire night. I was so, so, so happy for him. periodically though, as I looked around at everyone dancing, I broke down into a peculiar dump of emotion. You see, one of the doctor's that I first sought an opinion from gave me a pretty fresh three month time line. I said no to her or course, but oncologists don't just make up their estimates, they do come from somewhere, so the severity of it all was very apparent. When I coupled that feeling of surrealism with the happiness I was experiencing, it made me realize: I almost wasn't there, I almost wasn't able to watch my best friend walk down the aisle. I almost wasn't there for my best friend if he needed me. That idea brought me to tears whenever it came to mind (currently) but the benefit of it all...I am still here! Just that very brief thought, and it is brief, has opened my eyes to just how much I care about those in my life. It's a very vague description and I'll elaborate in a forthcoming YouTube Channel with the BruCrewBros, but it allows me to participate in each moment deliberately in ways that I could never have imagined.

“Friendship Island is my favorite place in all of Cancer Ocean.”

I truly believe that this method of deeply experiencing your sorrow and following that up with deeply experiencing your happiness is one of the most refreshing things I've ever done and can be scaled accordingly, of course, because problems are all relative.

     Stay Tickled

-Safford McGivens

On Photograp.....wait, no. On Cancer

     As I stated in my previous post, I came down with a touch of the cancers. I’ll throw you all a quick timeline bone without getting too much into it now. I’ll tell you all a more in depth story about it another time, but it’s pretty heavy and emotional so until then, you get this:

     June 5, 2015 I was living in Los Angeles at the time and I was out at some cover band night at Dirty Laundry, a bar in Hollywood. It’s a great spot if you ever get a chance to visit. You need to go down a dark alleyway, go down a creepy set of stairs, and walk into an unmarked, sketchy door to get inside, but once you’re in the party don’t stop. It’s in an old basement and there are different rooms set to different themes; Trick rooms, lounges, bar tops, music room complete with a stage and sound set up, etc. Very cool stuff. I was there with three of my roommates and a few friends from work to let loose a little. I’m not very good at attacking something half assed and when I drank it was the same thing. One whiskey ginger ale turned into eight in about an hour and I was feeling good on a Wednesday before you could say “Grande fat free, sugar free caramel macchiato please!”

     I stumbled on home at around 2AM (by stumble I mean took a cab because I lived in the Hills and I wasn’t going to walk up a mountain inebriated. Or ever. Because fuck that.) I didn’t sleep so well that night and had some general feelings of stomach discomfort, but I attributed that to the fact that I drank so much in so little time and I don’t sleep well ever. Totally normal, right!? Wrong!

     At the time I was working behind the bar at a vegan tequila bar in West Hollywood by the name of Gracis Madre. Once again, if you make your way to Hollywood check it out! It’s delicious and has easily the best cocktails in the city. Easily. Over the next few days my stomach really started to bother me. I was in severe pain from laughing, breathing, reaching above my head, and really any amount of movement. I was planning on just working through it and getting to my day off and hopefully sleeping away the pain as I’ve always done, but I was in the process of courting a lady, who also happened to be my boss, and one night at my place I woke up with night sweats for the third day in a row and the stomach pain was worsening. She told me not to go into work, if I did she would have me fired she said, and to go to the ER. So when I woke up in a pile of sweat the next morning, I hopped into my car and drove to Ceder Sinai in Beverly Hills. Because I’m a world renowned thespian and I belong in Beverly Hills.

     This post was originally supposed to be about my growing interest in film photography and photography in general, but apparently it’s not so easy to introduce the ol’ stage 4 cancer at 25 bit. I’ll finish this up quickly and my next post will be about photography.

            So…Cedar Sinai, great place. The staff couldn’t have been friendlier. Or better looking. I felt like I was in the middle of Grey’s Anatomy episode so in a way I achieved my goal of landing a role on a major television show within a year. I went in to sit in a waiting room for a few hours on a very empty stomach (I stopped at Wendy’s on the way, but I got suckered into giving my freshly purchased food to a homeless guy who just had his food thrown away by a police officer because he was protecting and serving.) I finally went to the back, had to submit a bunch of tests, and it ended with an ultrasound of my liver. All of the doctors were accusing me of being an alcoholic, having Hep C, or cirrhosis.

 Was I an alcoholic? Ehhh…debatable, but I was 25. I drank a lot, but c’mon. Hepititis? I mean I dabbled in some dibble I shouldn’t have dabbled in I suppose, but….nope. Cirrhoris? No. My only reason is because I hear about it in commercials. I’m not a commercial disease kind of guy. I saw the images. I’m not an idiot. My liver was riddled with almost two dozen spots and you don’t get that kind of liver damage from drinking on the weekends. I had an instant gut feeling that it was liver cancer as soon as they started questioning me. Now you’re probably asking: Hey, you said it was colon cancer!! Oh, I did. This shit is metastatic, son. Go big or go home.

            I’m going to leave you with that for now. It’s a good ending point. A routine ER visit turned into a weeklong stay at the hospital full of biopsies, needle stabs, bood tests, and scared parents coming in from out of town. The first week of June is really the beginning of my journey back to Arizona, my fight with cancer, and the stress it’s put on all my relationships (spoiler alert: My former boss moved states with me and became my girlfriend. DUN DUN DUN!!!)

As you can see, really like photography!

On Writing: Alliteration

Hey, team,

     It's my first post! The point of this blog is to give you all a view through the window to my heart, mind, body, and soouuullll baby while also providing myself an outlet to freely express my thoughts and emotions in a way that's meaningful and practical to me. It will typically revolve  around various things going on in my life like writing (today's!,) my relationships, my adventures, and dealing with my back and forth dance with the devil (Cancer. More on that later. It's pretty juicy.)

         Writing is a beautiful tool that everyone can used as an art form to express themselves, use as a journal for stress relief, or assist you in telling a story. Like everything, everyone can be good at it if they try hard enough. You may never be GREAT, but you can definitely be GOOD through constant practice. In conjunction with this blog, I like to give myself periodic writing exercises. They can be little things like writing a short poem, writing a story with alliteration (today's!,) or writing a micro story about an inanimate object on the desk in front of me (or you?) 

   The reason I like to do alliteration exercises is because it puts your brain under duress from constantly looking for seldom used words for familiar ideas. It thrusts you into unfamiliar territory and really makes you flex the ol' vocabulary to get some extra use out of your words. It allows you to keep your head full of ideas and forces you to keep the tip of your pen wet.

"Living life lavishly lately, I’ve looked longingly

 for the fictitious forces being fantastically fabricated from our own flight of fancy. I’m fastened to the

 insightful illumination that inspiration is an illusion, intelligence is insincere, and intellectuality is an invention. Ingenuity, intellect, and imagination are extinct. 

I may have lost my marbles by milking my mind dry from meditating on all of the misery and misgivings of the masses.

 I've potentially given some punk the power to pillage and plunder my proclamations. He’ll push back my prophecies as punitive and penal. When that happens,

 the world we wanted without exception will be wrecked. The wallowing, the woeful, and the weary will rise up while we wait like wax statues wondering what went wrong. 

Reality is repeatedly in front of you rightfully resting for a revolutionary to reach for a rifle and reignite a new renaissance to reinvigorate the rank-and-file to decipher their new, 

distinct delusions as day dreams or as dire designs for a new de facto destination."

   

     It's always tough showing anyone something personal and writing is no exception. Even something as simple as the above exercise is deeply personal and a reflection of my skill as a writer and of my feelings. It feels good to get it out there.

So, remember...

Keep your head full and your tip wet.

-Safford McGivens