Well, Thanksgiving weekend was interesting. The turkey trot
win was awesome and there’s no trophy I’m more proud of. But it just kept
flowing well. I had a few very kind Thanksgiving invitations but the one I took
was the one to what was labeled as an orphan Thanksgiving where people who didn’t
have any family in town got together. Other than the Cowboys losing to the
Redskins, it was a great event. A lot of good people who were also good runners
but its this time of year I remembered
why I don’t gain weight during the holidays (or at least not too much)

I rented a couple of movies to cover some of the silence and
one that has sat on my counter for over a month 50/50 and has been mentioned in
here multiple times didn’t and still hasn’t gotten watched. Someone pointed out
that the fear of watching it may be a bigger deal than actually watching it,
like the anticipation of jumping off something when you have a fear of heights
is probably greater than actually doing it. I think we have a term for that, it’s
called PTSD and yes the anticipation usually is worse but I also have a fear of
heights and small spaces. I’ve managed to conquer those having skydived, becoming a
scuba diver who on his first dive was the one who ran out of air the fastest
the first dive and then later down the road always the last one because of
these lungs that let me run… but I’m not sure I’ll get to this one.

The time traveler says to his companion as she cries about
the fact that they didn’t change anything: "The
way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. Hey,
the good things don’t always soften the bad things. But, vice versa, the bad
things don’t necessarily spoil the good things or make them unimportant. And we
definitely added to his pile of good things.

The new neuro oncologist, Dr. Valiant, has compiled all
records and at the end of the day thinks that what appeared as good news may
have to do with more imaging issues and biopsy issues but that yeah I still
have cancer.
Kiana above all but people in general is why I keep going.
But these girls, these moments were everything seems all right keep part of the
hopeless romantic alive. But then I remember my great grandmother dying and not
remembering any of us and I don’t think I have what it takes to ask anyone to
sit through that who wasn’t signed up beforehand to get that close if this ever
gets ugly… When I made momentary romantic connections, I sleep better, I
remember better, my lumosity scores go up. Trying to dismiss the romance of
it, I remember that the damaged parts of my brain are the memory center and the
hippocampus, both of which in all people work better when they are engaged in
romantic type feelings, trying to dismiss the magic as science but science has
never quite explained how we turn that on anyway. And these girls… without
exception… somehow stick immediately when so many, so many people don’t in this
facial recognition game (the rest I study on things like facebook or pictures,
to give you an idea, it took 4 days for Kiana’s kindergarten teacher).
Some call this justification for my George Clooney lifestyle
and judge me as less than wholesome accordingly. A handful of people have understood. Some have tried
to say you don’t know that you’re going to be part of the minority that beats this, just be
willing to go for it, something that I’ve considered more in this month, the
first time I don’t have any brain cancer appointments in 2 years but I am
nowhere near shaking the PTSD… Plus there is still this court cased based on
this. It’s frustrating at some level to have so much of your life being in
other people’s hands, literally and figuratively.
So every once in a while, I chug beers and win a race
despite the fact that I have an alcohol limit. This weekend after running 10
miles I had a cup of coffee at Central Market despite the fact that I am
supposed to have no caffeine. None of these will ever become habit but every
once in a while, it’s good to be human and have cancer be less relevant. And all
of that definitely adds to my pile of good things.
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