Okay, first of all, let me get the technical stuff out of the way. The surgery is on the 29th. It's expected to last anywhere from 3 to 6 hours. On hearing what happened, I've instructed my sister to call four people; Manan, Jon, Alex Reher, and Steve. Aside from being my closest friends, almost like brothers, they also have contacts with different groups of people and will probably let the rest of you know what happened. If you don't hear from them or don't know them, I'll attempt to post something on Facebook when I can. However I know if things go well, they'll be forcing me to do breathing tests and walk up and down the hall a lot to prevent pneumonia since I have a history of it now. So if you don't know by Halloween, expect that something has gone wrong.

For those of you who don't know; the chemo worked as well as it could, shrinking the tumor a few centimeters on all three axes (this may not seem like much, but think of volume and the difference between a 1 cm cube and a 2 cm cube). It's also apparently killed the active cancer, although we can't know for sure yet. This type of cancer however, comes with a teratoma, a type of tumor that is unaffected by chemotherapy. Teratomas can be benign; however they most often just reactivate the cancer later down the road. Thus, surgery is needed to remove it.

The reason I'm writing this is not just because I'm afraid of the surgery; I've got a 95% chance of going through the surgery with no complications, and that remaining 5% isn't DEATH (most of it is post op pneumonia), but yes, I'm still afraid considering I never had a surgery before. But aside from this, if the removed mass shows active cancer still, I may have to undergo more dangerous and harsh chemotherapy. From this round already, I've had severe neuropathy in two of my fingers on both hands; another round of chemo might finish them off. Worst of all is the 50 to 60% cure rate has never changed; that means there's a 50 to 40% chance that even if I make it through this, it'll come back. If it does come back, I might not make it again. There was also a large blood clot in my neck that could have killed me; something tells me that wasn't the only close call I'll be having.

And most of all, I saw my dad slowly die from pancreatic cancer, and although I was too young to know it then, I can remember now how his eyes had some despair that he could not tell me all the things he wanted to tell me. My mom said the only time she saw him cry was not on learning his parents's death, or on knowing about his coming death, but knowing that he would not see us grow up, would not be there to guide us and tell us and when his son got older, talk about books and falling in love and yelling at him and being disappointed in him and all that stuff that those of you with fathers take for granted (I hope that does not sound too bitter; to paraphrase something I read once, I do not hate you because you have a better life, I only wish that I did as well).

That alone wouldn't have convinced me to write this whole thing if it weren't for a quote I read from Bun B, half of famous Southern rap duo UGK. His friend Pimp C had died, and Bun B said the following: “And I loved him, and he loved me, and we're never ashamed to say it. And I know we're in the era of "pause" and "no homo" and all that, and that's all fine and dandy, but if you really love your homie, don't feel like you can't tell him you love him. Who gives a fuck how somebody take it. Because when things happen, you're going to wish you had said it. You're going to wish you said it louder.”

I remember reading an article about the hidden costs of masculinity where the author made a successful argument, I thought, in how men cannot express how they feel about other men. Women tell each other their love almost every day. And I thought, how fucking solid of Bun B to do that. Men pride ourselves on remaining stoic and unemotional, but fuck, it's not right that I can see it on my brother's face and he can see it on mine, but it goes unsaid.

So here's the truth, if I die tomorrow in surgery or in a week from pneumonia or in three months from a remission gone wrong. Here is the truth.
Too much of life, I think, is dealt with in passivity. We do not celebrate connectedness but retreat behind our barriers. We argue over paying taxes while our brothers and sisters bleed in the street. We look pretty so other people will decide if we're worth their time, but who the fuck decided someone wasn't? We let hatred and fear move us more than love, and I can't help but remember Mookie's bitter words when Sal complains about his broken window in Do The Right Thing: fuck your window, Radio Raheem is dead. So if I die, this is my last message to you; just simple life is easy. Making a good life is the hard part. Never be contented. Never think your work is done. Never do anything by half. If you love, don't do that stupid love where all you do is wonder whether he or she is thinking about you and what your kids will look like and if he or she will still fuck you just as good in twenty years as they do now. Love so that if they ask you to jump you jump, you don't even ask how high. Love so that it fucking hurts. When you do something, do the fucker, do it so it jumps up and ties itself into a knot when it sees you coming. And when you see evil, when you see something despicable, never forget how to hate. Hate till blood runs out of your eyes if you have to. Never do it by half. Never give in. If you're like me, they'll be hard nights, hard times, and you may wonder if it's worth it but one day it will be and you'll be refilled like it was fucking manna from heaven. To quote Henry Rollins, “scar tissue is stronge than regular tissue. Realize the strength, move on.” That's what I know of life, and that's all I can tell you about its meaning. Never forget fire.

And beyond that. If I die. It'll always be too late for me to say all I need to say. To tell you about the beauty of the blue light of dawn, to tell you that heaven is a spot outside of a village in India with alabaster trees and a muddy brown pond with fish nipping at the surface, of pain so strong it converts you from atheist to believer to atheist, it convinces you to kill anything you have just to make it go away. I cannot tell you everything that I have found powerful in this life. But I can tell you just a little, and under the assumption that I might die, please allow me this one indulgence. The night air is always better than the day; it's like something's cracking open all around you all the time. If you get far enough away from the city, the stars will ruin you. You'll look up, and they'll fucking destroy you, how many there are. You don't even get that whole “I'm so small” feeling; you just realize how vast it is. Part of what makes love great is how incredibly weak it is. Think of all that can break it; distance, boredom, curiousity. If you can nurse it, watch it grow, if you can keep love going without losing yourself in it, you've got a little miracle and anyone who looks at you will be able to tell. Somewhere in the world someone is waiting for you and already loves you. You may never meet them, but the fact that they exist makes all the difference. Don't just accept your flaws; actively correct them. If you aren't smart, become smart. If you're mean, grow some decency. There is no excuse for complacency or boredom. Respect your elders, but know they can be and often are just wrong. Sylvia from Sylvia's Pizza is a nice, heavily accented, Italian man who loves his business and loves his regular customers. It's always better to support a local place than a chain because as an amateur chef I can tell you that if you love who you cook for, you make better food. Try not to laugh at someone, ever. Even hating them has a modicum of respect; laughing at someone only serves to demean you both. There are still bad people out there. You will fall in love with them sometimes. Do not assume you can change anyone.

As for me; I'm not ready to die. I don't want to. I'll go into this surgery prepared to survive. I'll fight cancer with every last bit of strength I've got. You can shoot me and I'll keep going. But if I do, do not mourn me. I have had a decent life so far. I'm only 22 and I've already gotten so high I've felt the rhythm of the universe around me. I've gotten so drunk in a parking lot that I started singing for no reason. I've known pain, both emotional and physical, that most people don't know till much further in life. I've fallen in love and had my heart broken. I've seen the inside of a jail cell. I beat someone up once to protect a friend, even though I was outnumbered and about five years old. I have done both great and awful things in my life. I have cried tears for dead people I never knew, and I have broken doors in rage over people I cannot save. I have lived a life. I hope I get to keep on living. I hope I can fall in love again and this time make it work. I hope I can adopt a child. I hope I can see my friends get married. I hope I can make an album. I hope I can learn to write, and write well. I hope I can save an innocent man from dying. I hope I can live.

But if I don't, your life still goes on. There are innocent men who will still die if no one saves them. There are weddings and parties to attend that will be missing one guest. There's a beautiful girl reading a book somewhere or about to go to sleep who might suddenly shiver, and not understand why. There are still children who need families. Never stay content unless you've earned it. You have no greater purpose in life than to help others, no matter how small an effort you can exert.

And don't forget I love you.