The biopsy from surgery identified my cancer as "poorly differentiated non-small cell adenocarcinoma", and I have qualified to participate in a chemotherapy research trial which I will begin this Tuesday, June 23. The pharmaceutical company provides the drugs and I pay for the scans every three week cycle to determine its effectiveness. These are ct scans of my brain, chest and abdomen, to see if the cancer has spread. To qualify for the trial, these had to be negative.
I'm a little disappointed that I don't have cancer in my brain, since this seemed like an ideal way of avoiding responsibility.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
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Hello, folks. My name is Miles Fuller and I am splicing my own sliver of neurotic prose into this beautiful blog. I just wanted to say, that the truth is, if anyone knows Doug Wright, it's likely that you're homely and severely disfigured. If you know Doug, it's likely that you are scarred and smoothed into a horrific form of beauty that would make any begging leper in New Delhi jealous. Because frankly, Doug melts faces. His compassion and insights and wide array of complex knowledge may at first seem only to simmer under the surface, just brooding behind his side-smile like a leak in the pipes.
ReplyDeleteAs you get to know Doug, his quiet power consumes you. There is nothing more precious than the things Doug Wright cares about...but they're easy to forget. I feel privileged to say that more than once I've sat on a bench under the trees with Doug and stared down at the fallen leaves. For two hours. Can't say it was my idea. Who the hell does that kind of shit? Nobody...nobody significant. Another one of the best things about Doug are his greetings. A year ago, when I somehow sifted back into Utah, and happened to meet Doug on my way into a libary, he laughed and the first thing he said was, "Boy...this day keeps getting fucking weirder and weirder." I totally gushed at the compliment.
Look, unless you're a folk singer, no one wants to suffer or experience pain (if you are, suffering is just an excellent career move). Even so, for those of us hovering at different wavelengths above "total socio-path," it's somehow less desirable to know a friend is suffering. Yet Doug Wright wants to breath better only to share with those he cares most about. How admirable. I'd be wheezing the words, "Get me a sandwich and some opiates wench!" to anyone nearby. Instead, Doug does more than indulge himself and tolerate others. He lets me "talk at him" even when he's already exhausted. He revels in his friends. Talking with him has that never-ending engagement and delight of taunting a cat with a laser pointer. And all the while, there he goes watching, listening, waiting to pounce again on something he finds artful.
I adore this man enough to have repeatedly let him melt my face--often when I least expect it yet most need it--all because of his kind words and those eyes full of that perpetual glint that is Doug Wright.