Oliver's Story: My Own Worst Enemy or Invading Your Own Country

Taken at 3:55am, as I continue to work on the updates to Rabbit in the Road.

Hey guys, Oliver here again.

This blog has from the start been about two things; storytelling and narrative. The exact details of that story and narrative have been variable, but at the very least those two things have been consistent. I've told you a few stories about myself, but all those things have been past tense. So I figured I would switch it up and tell you something different, the ongoing story. Maybe we can change it.

It's been exactly one week since I was informed about the anomalous mass lurking in my face, that which could be a cyst or a tumor but I'm unable to confirm because I can't afford the CT scan to find out. Lots of people have been asking me what it's like, being in this situation. Obviously, it's hard to field this question so many times, so I figured I would continue to talk about it right here, to get maximum coverage.

The past seven days have been, in short, pure hell. Not only did I come out of oral surgery and have been medicated up the wazoo, I'm still dealing with a great deal of swelling and have obviously had a hard time adjusting to the new features inside my mouth. Speaking can be difficult at times, but I'm managing so far. I've barely been eating at all during this time, it was only yesterday that I was able to actually put down two "meals" (if you call two turkey sandwiches two separate meals), and even then that was a struggle.

People have asked me "What's it like to have a (suspected) tumor? What does it feel like?"

I'll tell you what it feels like: Nothing. It feels like nothing at all, even though you would think I would feel a bulbous mass in my face. I don't. If it hadn't been pointed out to me, I would have never known it was there, under normal circumstances. Of course, over the past couple of days I have had headaches and NOW I can notice it, basically because of the pressure on the side of my head. Small, but noticeable difference. But that doesn't even begin to compare to the internalized feeling of it.

I'm fucking scared, man. Beyond scared, even. I've always been a fighter, as early as I can remember. If I can see an enemy, or at least quantify a threat, I'm never afraid of it. Because if you can know your enemy, you can beat your enemy.

This enemy is unknown, and the avenue I have to knowing my enemy is so far closed to me. And THAT is why I'm scared. I don't feel like I'm being given a fighting chance.

It's even worse because at the end of the day, I AM that enemy. For whatever reason, something has gone horribly wrong inside of my body. The system has turned on itself. I think one of the reasons why people get so upset behind various things like this (cancer, leukemia,  etc) is because it's not something that can be blamed on someone else, and you can't even realistically blame yourself ; it wasn't a conscious choice that you made. It just… IS.

My emotions have been up and down the chart over the past few days. Heated arguments with my sister, and I finally spoke to my mother (whom I haven't spoken with in 3+ years) for several hours on the phone in a combination of information dumping and reconciling. Lots of crying was involved, on both sides.

I don't think I've ever been so exhausted in my life. It seems strange that when I should be trying to rest as much as possible and take it easy, suddenly everyone wants me to work that much harder. And it makes me very, VERY angry. I did, after all, have a double whammy of surgery and possibly fatal news, and very few (please note that I said FEW, not NONE) around me seem to give two shits, and are going about their merry way. But then, I guess they're not the ones in this situation. I am.

Let me tell you what it feels like, inside. It feels like I'm wandering around in a pitch black room. There is an assailant in the room with me, and I cannot identify how much of a threat he is, not unlike the end of Silence of the Lambs when Clarice was wandering around in the dark with Buffalo Bill creeping around in nightvision goggles. It could just be a guy with fists in the dark. Maybe he has a knife, or maybe… he has a gun and is just waiting to blow my fucking brains out. I just don't know. All I need is the tiniest bit of light so I can know what I"m dealing with, so I can turn around and fight back.

But I don't.

Anyhow, I climbed out of my sickbed today and worked for about 13 hours, getting the 2nd edition of Rabbit in the Road ready. The Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Print versions of the book have all been updated with new copyright info, new covers as well as some typographical changes and such. It'll be a few days before the print version is back up, but the digital versions (Amazon and B&N) should be updated and you can update your copies right now to get those fixes. The print edition was also changed because we have decided to make the push to get the book on stores shelves, which should come sometime in March, according to my calculations.

It was all very draining on me physically, as well as my patience. Did I mention that I ran out of painkillers yesterday morning, so I've been working all day under great, GREAT pain? Yeah.

I guess I don't really have a whole lot to else to say. I've begun to fear going to sleep, for one key reason:

When I wake up, the first thing that keeps popping into my head is, "I might be dying soon." And unlike Folgers, that is definitely not the best part of waking up.

~Oliver