Last week they removed the chemo-therapy port from my chest. The port, you may remember, was a little valve that was hooked up to a vein and then implanted for easy access under my skin. It's been there, like a little ziggurat beneath my skin for almost two years. Taking it out was an acknowledgement on the doctors' part that this episode in my life has stopped. I won't say it's finished or ended (you generally don't get to write your own end) but at least this is a punctuation mark, the end of a sentence, a paragraph, a chapter.
To keep me from missing this blog too much, there are a few distractions. The second edition of The Short Course in Beer is now available on Amazon. It turns out that instead of losing speech and taste, I'm shooting my mouth off about beer at every opportunity now.
There are also three books of poetry that are somewhere in the process of getting printed. You've seen some of the poetry here and one of them was published this week. It's called BOOM!. I've also started looking for an agent to represent the book that's growing out of this blog. I guess it will be called Radiation Days-stay tuned.
I can't tell you how much your reading this has meant to me. There were days when the only conscious thing I did was write a piece of this blog and knowing that you were there gave me a sense of meaning.
I feel good, I feel strong and I'm ridiculously happy to be alive. If you'll forgive my saying so, at the end of radiation days, there's a kind of glow.