A lot of you have asked me what the outlook is and what my odds are. Well, you’ll get two different answers depending on who you ask. If you ask me, I’ll be back to my old self and working out like crazy by Christmas to try and get my body back to where it used to be. I miss having muscles and I’m already tired of being called skinny. If you look up the 5-year survival rate on the American Cancer Society website, it says I have an 11 percent chance of being alive five years from now. 11 F*%&#&G PERCENT. Place your bets. I know who I’m going with.
If you want my opinion. It’s absurd. There is no chance that cancer will take anything more from me (except my colon in a few months, but that’s unavoidable). I’m done. Cancer can and will not quell my resolve, it will not shatter my hopes, it will not diminish my dreams, it will not suppress my positive attitude, and it sure as hell will never conquer my spirit or rob me of those that I hold dear to my heart.
So, there it is.
So what if I’m sitting here and really crying about this for the first time right now, I’ll be done by the time it’s published.
I am a Gladiator.
I am the 11%