I never wanted to be a superhero. But with my brain zapped with radiation and experimental chemo flooding my veins, I feel like I am becoming one with every breath. I’d like to go back to being normal. But a superhero seldom gets to choose, they are chosen.
It’s going to take Herculean strength to fight this monster, cancer. Years of my very short life eaten up with superhero feats. Is this the meaning of life now? Is my only purpose to beat this situation? Or is accepting my new normal and finding peace in my now my new purpose.
I need to take off my cape for a little bit. Can I close my eyes and go back to a time when Cancer wasn’t my focus? What’s funny is I cannot. Cancer has taken the lives of my paternal grandparents and my mother. It has poked at my brother’s thyroid and zapped my father’s prostate. And it has now taken residence in my brain, where no welcome mat was laid at its portal.
The burden of being a superhero is unlike that of any other. Because in order to survive you have to deny you are super human, because who can handle that knowledge? All I can do is smile at my morning espresso, relax to the sunrise, prepare for a normal work day, and hide my cape in my brief case labeled Mr. Kent.