January 12, 2008
Originally published December 6, 2003
Am I living on borrowed time? I don't know. Statistics say that with a zero PSA after my cancer right now, I have a 90% chance of surviving another ten years. The numbers go downhill from there. Is that a comforting thought, or what?
I don't worry about it. I believe that I was born with an expiration date stamped on my ass and when my time comes, there won't be a hell of a lot I can do about it except die with dignity. When I cash my retirement package, I'm going to Jamaica for a week to get a sun tan in January. I'm going to drink Red Stripe beer and eat lobster. I'll have a few bowls of goat soup, too. I might rent me a couple of dark-skinned wimmen and sport with them.
Hell, I might even smoke some ganja.
If I were meant to die before now, that event would be history. I tried to do it once, but the old body just wouldn't quit. I still remember waking up in that ambulance and being very disappointed that the lights were still burning. I don't feel that way anymore, but living through that experience really changed me.
I've been living on borrowed time since July 28, 2001.
Everything I've experienced since then is pure gravy. I LIKE gravy and I want to slather it all over my life from here on out. I don't fear death, but I don't intend to court the Reaper again, at least not until HE comes for ME. Then, we'll dance and I will not be afraid.
I am ready anytime he is and I may have a ticking time-bomb in my body right now. If so, I'll live with it until the bomb goes off. I don't care one way or the other. Whatever happens is fine with me. I'm living on borrowed time.
In the meantime, I intend to slather gravy all over my life.
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