Zach & Zelda

Zelda : Round 4 was a tough one for Zach. Not that rounds 1, 2, or 3 were easy. They were draws at best, and he took a ruthless pounding in each one. But after his 2 big falls, we were more concerned with managing his pain than scoring the fight. We thought that if we could just get his pain under control, he’d be able to roll with the nausea, fatigue, chills, and other low blows chemo was throwing and he could punch his way out of this.  We finally landed on the right mix of meds and got ahead of the pain. But Zach had no appetite and refused any food I offered. I didn’t want to nag, but I found myself pleading with him on a regular basis to at least take a sip of a protein shake. He was getting only a few hundred calories a day, and losing about 3 pounds a week. It was almost impossible to believe, but he was closing in on his high school wrestling weight. And when I hugged him, it was like squeezing a skeleton. He was all rib cage and shoulder blades with no padding around them....

Zelda : Do you remember your first serious fall? Zach : Not like you do. Zelda : We were sitting on the couch watching a movie, and you got up to use the bathroom. Then I heard the crash. Zach : Ah, how could I forget: The shower curtain incident. Zelda : You grabbed it when you lost your balance. Ripped it in two. Zach : You were kinda mad. Zelda : I was pissed. I loved that shower curtain! It had that silky fabric and the sheer section at the top so you could see out but not in…We still haven’t found a good replacement. And honestly, I was irritated ‘cause I just thought you were cocktailed—making bad choices. Zach : Which I wasn’t. Zelda : I get that now. Damn cancer drugs and their fall risks. Zach : Bastards. And it's worse with chemo. Do we have to talk about this? Zelda : Yep. Zach : Why? Zelda : You've had a few big falls since then. And I want you to take it seriously. If you fall again, you could break a bone.  Zach : I’ve never broken a bone in my life! Zelda : Next...

[It’s Sunday afternoon. We’re on the couch watching football when the phone starts to buzz. It's a reminder: Time for our weekly chat with Mom.] Zelda : Here [Hands Zach the phone.] Zach : What? Zelda : Time to call mom. Zach : Oh, that. [Takes the phone.] Feels like this is getting old. Zelda : What's getting old? Zach : Talking to mom. We only talk about the weather. It's all sunshine and rainbows. Zelda : You kinda put on a show for each other. Stick to the boring details. Pretend everything's fine. Zach : Yep. Zelda : Something else you want talk about? Zach : I don’t know. I hate lying to her...saying everything's fine when it's ain't. [He pokes Recents, then taps the lone entry on the screen: Mom. She’s the only one we call any more. He puts it on speaker. The phone rings. She answers on the first ring.] Mom : Hel-lo! Zach : How’s my favorite mom?  Mom : [Giggles for a beat or two in appreciation.] Oh, doing ok I guess. Just woke up from a nap. Zach : ...

Zach : I want to live. I love life, and I’m gonna do everything possible to stay alive on this crazy messed up rock as long as I can.  I want to hang out with my beautiful wife, and the friends I love. I want to visit my mom and dad, my daughter, and our wild, bad-ass, extended family. I want to play games (and kick ass doing it) and listen to music so loud somebody calls the cops. I want to ride my bike with no hands, grow vegetables (farm out!), build shit, and, damnit, leave the world a better place for having been here. At the same time, I’m not afraid to die. It’s part of life. And it looks like that part might be coming for me too damn soon. I don’t know what’s gonna happen when I die. I grew up with people preaching about eternity. They said when you passed, you’d reunite with your family in the promised land, as long as you lived a righteous life here on earth. I say horseshit. They made that up to try to keep me in line, and you know what? It didn’t work. I came up with my...