107: Life in the Fast Lane

It was a week later that we got the diagnosis for Doug. I called Angela.

"Lymphoma? Crap!" she said. "Hodgkins or non-Hodgkins?"

"Oh. They said it wasn't Hodgkins. That's good, isn't it?" I said.

"Not necessarily." She hesitated for a few seconds. "They'll probably want him to start treatment right away. It depends on what stage it's in as to what the treatment will be. I'll send you some info so you'll all know what to talk about with the oncologist. Don't try to self-diagnose. Just be well-informed."

"How are you doing up there?" I asked.

"I'm cold. All the time. You know, Minnesota only has two seasons. Winter and poor sledding. If I had them, I could ski to work. Which reminds me, if I don't get out and catch my bus, I'll be late for work. Another thirty-six-hour shift. But I'm hanging in there. Tell Doug I promise to be a good oncologist. I wish I was there to help now," she said.

"Love you, Angela. Stay warm."

ELAINE: My friend, Doug, has non-Hodgkins lymphoma. For those who don't know, that's a kind of cancer. [Sympathetic aaw.] Yeah. Cancer sucks. They are going to start aggressive treatment this week. Chemotherapy and radiation. At least he's already mostly bald. [Couple boos.] Don't get upset. I talked to him and he approved my making fun of him this morning. After all, laughter's the best medicine, you know. Reader's Digest said so. And if it doesn't work, at least he'll die laughing, right?

You've got to be careful about the drugs they give you these days. Oh, I trust my doctor. Do you think I'd take my panties off and let her stick a cold speculum up my twat if I didn't trust her? Ahh! Put your feet in the stirrups, please. We're going for a ride. The first time my Hercules said put your foot in the stirrup, I hit him so hard we had to cancel our horseback riding date. Guys! Don't say that to your wife or girlfriend.

But no matter how we trust our doctors, you need to read the labels and that little booklet they give you for your information. [In golf announcer tones to the aside camera.] 'This drug kills rapid growing cancer cells. And any other cell it comes in contact with. It may cause nausea and uncontrolled vomiting, hair loss, heart palpitations, nerve damage, or fertility problems. It may cause mouth sores, loss of appetite, itchy skin, swollen hands and feet, weakened bones, anxiety, depression, and loss of memory. In a very small percentage of cases, side-effects may be fatal. But you won't die of cancer.'

They don't expect us to read that crap! Sexual dysfunction? My fingernails might fall off? I'll pee myself? Oh, those are only possible side-effects. I might also possibly become the first female president of the United States. Hey! It's a possible side-effect.

We should read the label on everything. Here's one I bet you never thought of. Ladies, we all like to look nice and if you are on television, that means you stay thin. After all, the camera adds ten pounds. So what do we do? We get up in the morning and shampoo our hair, because clean fluffy hair is pretty. But it says right on the shampoo bottle, 'adds body.' Honey, if you are trying to lose weight, you don't want to be using shampoo that adds body.

Dish detergent. That's what I wash with. Remember that manicurist, Madge, who soaked her client's hands in dish detergent? She had the right idea. Wash your whole body with the stuff. Why? It says right on the label, 'cuts grease.' We're educated women. We know what grease is. It's fat. Dish detergent cuts fat.

I hate to be the one who cries conspiracy, but really. They should have switched the labels!

That was the light side. We had plenty of the heavy side to deal with, too. The chemo and radiation whipped Doug's butt. Sandy, Rachel, and Doreen took turns sleeping with him at night because the crowded bed that he loved so much made them touch and touching hurt. Then he'd have a week of feeling less crappy before he had to go in for another treatment. His parents stayed and were a big help with the kids. The women would adapt, but right now, having a sick husband was straining them. He went from a receding hairline to a cue ball.

We still managed to have a pretty good Christmas. He'd started his treatments just under two weeks before the holiday, so he was feeling pretty good for our Christmas Eve celebration. Everybody knew, of course. You don't keep something like that a secret from a clan and tribe that had grown as close as ours had. We had everyone bring their kits to the tree and add things to get us through a new series of hardships. It wasn't just for Casa del Agua. We all realized that life throws curve balls at you and you've got to decide whether to hit the ball or take the strike.

"Don't you think that listing out all these things that could happen kind of invites them to happen? An earthquake? Really?" Jennifer asked.

"We never put things into our kits that would help us address an emergency," Rose said. "Maybe an earthquake is far-fetched, though I heard they had one in Missouri last year. But fire? Tornado? What happens if the power goes out to the whole village? I know we don't have enough generators to run the studio, let alone to run the whole village. What about phones? What do we do if we can't call someone? Or if there is an accident?" Rose said. She was gung-ho on getting the clan prepared for disaster.

The clan executive committee met and everyone agreed that there needed to be a complete first aid kit in every dwelling. And fire extinguishers. We decided to buy them out of our general fund so no family needed to go out and purchase either one. Dinita ordered top of the line kits from a medical supplier. Dawn, Cathy, and Dinita all had their nursing kits for emergency response. We were all castigated for not running to get Cathy or Dawn when Doug got sick. Dinita was visiting Angela in Minnesota. We decided that every household should have a list of phone numbers for each emergency. Of course, the first priority was 911, but then we needed to alert others.

Monte went to work on an alarm system. He'd developed alarms for the gates of the ranch and security cameras monitoring the River and the Studio. He'd finished his degree in electrical engineering, but had taken a job at the local Radio Shack so he could stay at the ranch and act as bodyguard for Leonard when needed. He proposed putting an alarm system in every home that a resident could hit for any reason and it would blast out from a speaker on their home. That would give family and neighbors a chance to respond and they'd know exactly where each alarm came from. Furthermore, the fire station would have a master panel that would light up for any home in the village and direct them straight to it.

Christmas Eve when the log came around, Doug slapped both hands on it. He was determined.

"I'm putting cancer on the log," he declared loudly. "It dies. I live." There wasn't much any of the rest of us could say.

Fuck cancer.

My daughter Xan turned four on New Year's Day. I sat in the big chair after we'd had our birthday cake and Xan crawled into my lap.

"May I join, too?" Dani asked. Xan nodded and we readjusted so Dani was in my lap and Xan sat on top. The little girl reached up and put a hand on each of our faces. She looked into our eyes with her brow wrinkled.

"I love my Mommy and Papa," she said softly. I glanced at Dani whose eyes had popped wide open. Xan spoke! Then she cuddled up in our arms and went to sleep. She spoke!

Dr. Jan had always said that she was choosing not to speak and we were supporting her choice. There was nothing wrong with it. But we weren't going to make a huge deal about her choosing to speak, either.

Still, it made my heart thump. I hugged Dani and the two of us went to sleep, too.

New Year's week we were on a limited schedule, broadcasting live just three days with two reruns. The first full week of January, though, we were back in swing with daily shows. I was thankful for Frankie and Chuck. They really supplied me with an unending stream of new material. Left to my own devices, I'd have stood up and started reciting Nicki's poetry. Or worse, Bible verses. The two writers kept me primed with stuff I could work with.

I wasn't afraid to change anything they wrote. It had to sound like me and I had to endorse what was said. I wasn't going to make fun of the president or congress. Let Leno and Letterman do that. My job was to keep things positive, even when I didn't feel positive.

"Papa talk," my son said as he crawled up into my lap. I got up early, intending to bake bread like usual, but I just didn't feel motivated. I went out to the big chair and just sank down, weary to the bone. It was Friday the thirteenth, the day before Valentine's Day.

"What shall we talk about, son?" I asked. Matthew and C-Rae had been staying at the big house most of the time. Doreen stayed every other night. They were trying to keep Casa del Agua as peaceful as possible. James stayed with Céleste on the nights Doreen was in our house and sometimes Rachel took a break to stay with us and brought the twins as well. I just turned the master suite into a home away for Casa del Agua.

"C-Rae is scared." As if on cue, my little four-year-old daughter padded up to us and held out her hands. I lifted her into my lap next to Matthew.

"What is C-Rae scared of?" I asked.

"Daddy isn't getting better." Well, shit! That just hung out there. Doug showed some improvement right after the treatments started, at least every other week. But after two months, they'd just decided to up the dose for a second round. The guy was exhausted. He was getting thinner because after each treatment there were three days of throwing up everything he ate. Theresa and I had been through every book we could find to get him on a diet that would help him withstand the poison of the anti-cancer treatment.

"Well, kids, it's really too early to tell that. He's only been getting help for two months. I know that seems like a long time to you, but it really isn't very long." I didn't want to worry them, but I didn't want to lie to them, either.

"Will Daddy die?" Matthew asked. C-Rae buried her face in my shoulder and I could feel the moisture of her tears. She stubbornly refused to sob or cry out, but the tears came anyway.

"Matthew and C-Rae, we are all going to die one day. Some of us will die much younger than others. The thing is that no one knows when we'll die. No one knows how we will die. You don't remember Aunt Sam's sister Lexi. She died when Matthew was very small and no one expected her to. But you remember when Gypsy died. She was very old for a horse."

"Will Daddy go be with Lexi and Gypsy?" C-Rae asked. I nodded.

"One day, what is left of each of us will join in the River of Life," I said. "We'll all be back together."

"Can we visit the River of Life every day?"

"We can visit the River as often as we want. That's why it's there."

I looked up and Xan was standing in front of me. Matthew helped her up into our cluster in the chair. Xan hugged Matthew and she hugged C-Rae. She really hadn't said much to anyone since her one statement on her birthday. In an image of her mother, Xan began petting the heads and faces and arms of her two half-siblings. I could feel everyone begin to relax as her soothing touch calmed us all.

"I love Mommy and Papa," Xan said precisely. "And I love Matthew and Cassandra and Céleste and Sharon. You are my brother and sisters. I will always take care of you. You don't have to be afraid."

The three children hugged on my lap and I held them while silent tears ran down my cheeks.

ME: Here's the thing, people. We're going to die. It doesn't take a prophet to predict that. It's going to happen.

Sure, you might be thinking. Everybody dies. Benjamin Franklin said nothing can be certain except death and taxes. Maybe you haven't started earning enough to pay taxes yet. There might even be ways to avoid ever having a paycheck to be taxed. But if you buy that new pair of shoes you've been looking at, you'll pay sales tax. It's harder and harder to keep from rendering unto Caesar.

But we're way too young to think about dying, right? We're what seventeen? Twenty? I'm twenty-six. It's still too young to consider dying. Except I've known people my age who died. Dear sweet friends and lovers. People who were too young to die. Like me.

One drunk driver, one lunatic murderer, one unstoppable disease, one wrong step and life is over.

Yesterday only got us to today. It had no other purpose. Tomorrow is a dream. The only thing real is today. Right now. This second. In this moment when you have the power to decide the course of your life, not how you will live tomorrow, but how your yesterdays will be remembered, what will you choose?

That sends some people running to their churches, synagogues, and mosques to reform and become religious in this life. But it's not so they can be remembered. That's the fallacy of religion. It denies the inevitable. You will die.

That will send others to the local bar. Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow you might die. That is not about how you are remembered. It is about your self-gratification. All you truly leave behind are the memories of who you were.

That will send some into depression. Maybe your yesterdays weren't all that good. Maybe you are afraid you will be remembered for the way you treated your date Saturday night. For the way you spoke to your parents. For the way you told a friend you were too busy.

I think I'm beginning to sound a little preachy. [Laughter.] Elaine Frost and Rhonda Gordon are watching the show tonight saying, "I told you he wasn't funny." My writers, Frankie and Chuck, have packed their bags by now and are escaping even as we speak.

You know what?

I don't give a damn!

I don't care because all I have is today. Now! If I don't say this, I might never get another chance. This is my opportunity and if I die tonight this is what I want you to remember. Not the joke I intended to tell.

I died a few years ago. Twice in a matter of twenty-four hours. I don't much like to talk about that day. It still gives me nightmares. I still feel guilty that people I loved died that day and I didn't. But I have to tell you about it.