"Same Shit Homie"

Despite everything, I'm absolutely lucky. lucky may not even be it. maybe i mean blessed. It's a blessing to have so many loving friends and family and to have never felt alone when my cancer announced itself. all the phone calls, the food, the visits, gifts, letters, flowers, prayers, well wishes, and on and on -- like i said, I believe I'm blessed.
but one thing that has made this experience so much easier is a friend of mine from back in the day who has gone through literally the same thing. the two of us now ride to the left side, if you get what I'm saying.
About a month before i graduated from high school (ten years ago), my friend Adrian Bravo discovered he had testicular cancer. he walked with us at graduation, despite having already started chemo. I remember when he ascended, unaided, the stairs of main hall at Loyola to receive his diploma. our entire class stood and cheered him on. he was the only one to receive a standing ovation from students, faculty and staff. people outside the immediate Loyola community didn't understand why the bald kid with sunglasses was getting the attention and support he did. but Adrian was everyone's friend. he is one those type of cats. and even rarer is his honesty and ability to relate and laugh with anyone. even peter cho.
so when my cancer arrived, Adrian and I talked a lot. even before the doctors made it official we were talking. And when I got the news this afternoon that chemo seemed upon me, we instant messaged each other.
as short and quick as that form of communication is, he explained much to me: what to expect from the first week (fatigue), the second week (sickness and fatigue) and the third (like the second but worse...) he was familiar with my drug treatment -- etoposide aka VP-16, cisPlatin, and Bleomycin. "Same shit homie," he responded. he wrote me about the physical reaction -- skin rash, hair loss, IV burn, throat blisters, temporary loss of taste, touch, blurry vision, and disorientation -- and the psychological trauma as well. how despite the 95 percent survival rate you nonetheless question...he wrote that he wasn't trying to scare me. I understood that. i just needed to know what I'm about to enter from someone who has come out the other side.
of which, Adrian is healthy, hearty, and if you met him today for the first time, you'd never guess he's a survivor. in fact, he celebrated ten years of remission this year.
you can read about his experience at: www.myspace.com/bravoentertainment