Men at work you can dance if you want to remix

Men at work you can dance if you want to remix

That moment of panic from a scared and nervous 14-year-old, deciding to join the high school cross country team, has given me the tools to complete the most important race of my life as a 43-year-old man. That decision to become a runner has come to define me. Being a runner provided me with the skills, fortitude andcompetitiveness to win this race against Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma and chemotherapy. The fact that I startedboth of my running careers, in 1981 and 2010, with the same people has to mean something, right?Mike Greene and Mr. Brooks set me on this path. I was lucky enough to begin one journey with a good friend and mentor, but a second time? Running with the life-long friend that cajoled me into going out for the team in the first place, and then randomly meeting the man that started me on the path nearly 30 years ago? Its not random and I realize there is a plan, a path to follow. I am forever changed, but I will always be a runner. Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma is a crappy thing, even crappier when it happens to you. Id been writing for months about running, why its cool and the people that make it great here in southern Arizona. That is until my life took a hard left turn with a diagnosis of Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma in 200 I ve appreciated your encouragement of my sometimes hard, sometimes funny journey, and how I used running and the lessons it taught me to make sense of it all. You can start at the beginning here or read the previous men at work you can dance if you want to remix here. My last treatment day has arrived and as usual Im in early for blood work but there is an uneasy feeling in the air today. The doctor is unusually late and Im nervous about missing my start time in the chair. Again, my blood levels are perilously close to not allowing me to move on to chemo, but the combination of several factors puts me just over the limit. Ive been envisioning this day for months. In fact, it has been the benchmark of my treatment If I can just get to treatment six, everything will be okay, I tell myself. I want this day to be great, to be excited about the last lap of my race against chemo. However, there is a new nurse on the floor, someone Ive not seen before and she is in TRAINING. No offense but I dont want to be a practice patient for anyone, especially at the end of all this crap. She has a hard time finding a vein and cant get the men at work you can dance if you want to remix to draw back into the needle like its supposed to. She tries twice before I demand an experienced nurse to find the vein. Im upset and angry because this is supposed to be a good day. But unfortunately the tone has been set for the rest of the day Im not sure what I expected on this last treatment. I feel so far away from the optimistic patient from October. Im angry, pissed and yet excited to be here. I didnt really believe that just because I had my last treatment that things would miraculously improve. However, I did delude myself into thinking that once I was done, things would take a turn for the better. But Im exhausted, run down and generally in poor spirits the entire three weeks after treatment. My hair is still gone, eyebrows andeyelashes non-existent and a sunken face in the mirror to remind me Im a chemo patient. I try not to go anywhere I dont need to. I realize that the true red letter day would be March 4, the day after a non-existent 7 treatment wouldve been required. But chemo and my gut want to race me to the finish, make sure men at work you can dance if you want to remix I know they came to race. Two weeks after treatment I suffer through some of the worst side effects Ive ever experienced, wishing that someone would, please, please, put me out of my misery.