It started with a little bump; a barely visibly, scarcely tangible, yet ominously persistent pea-sized bump on my chest. A seemingly innocuous atoll that concealed a submerged continent of malignancy. My very existence nearly ran aground upon these cancerous reefs five years ago this week. It was the very definition of a mid-life crisis, the existential struggle to survive, a battle only won through passivity and humility in the presence of wise and patient people. And I was extremely lucky. It is a story that I will return to periodically. My insights about the experience, such as they are, come in shuddering and periodic fragments, bursts of trauma in my mind's eye. Cancer haunts the mansions of my mind, a howling demon that comes sailing around darkened corners and rising out of floorboards with cackling taunts. I do not know if I will ever stop being afraid of the demon's return. Cancer stalks my memory, and periodically I genuflect before my history with this monster who terrified and transformed me five years ago this week. More to come.
