An Inconvenient Tumor

Today seemed like any other day. The only difference is that it seemed like a day BEFORE Bryan was diagnosed. Today could have been any day in the month of February, December or October. Anytime before the end of the April, really. The best part is that today seemed like a NORMAL day. And I can't tell you how nice that feels.

We hit radiation early; 8:15 a.m. to be exact. We went early for four reasons: 1) Bryan has things to do (drive to Vegas); b) Bryan has people to see (his best friends....and Vegas strippers); 3) Bryan has beers to drink (Sierra Nevada or Anchor Steam...either one is a good bet); and 4) Bryan has a LIFE to live (duh).

So we would be damned if some stupid little brain tumor got in the way of his bachelor party. No way. On the contrary, he doubled up his steroids to minimize his symptoms (don't worry, this was our doctor's idea) and off he went. He was just like any other guy going to Vegas this weekend, except he had a slew of pills with him. Actually, scratch that, that makes him just like any other guy or girl going to Vegas. Except his pills are for slightly different reasons.

Our good friends Rich and Adam (thanks for driving), picked up Bryan this morning at around 9:30. Rich is my best friend's husband, and also a former tech reporter on L.A.'s KCAL 9. They stupidly let him go in December, but to put it in perspective for TACS fans, his boss was the TV equivalent of Jack Silver. A real winner. But let's move on. Our friend Adam, who is husband to one of my bridesmaids, is a professional writer/editor with a quick wit and (hopefully) a steady driving hand. But thanks to Rich's tech abilities, I needn't wonder about Adam's driving abilities. Instead, I happened upon a video of Bryan & Co. that Rich taped and posted while on their way to Vegas. It's pretty rough (and nerdy!), but for anyone who wants to see Bryan in action in the middle of the desert, check it out.

For those not interested, I'll finish my story. Seeing Bryan off this morning was like seeing him off to work (except with two friends in tow and during daylight hours). Everything about it seemed totally normal. I got to come back inside and do normal things. Watch TV. Write thank-you cards. Catch up on phone calls and emails. Plan dinners with my family and friends. There were no doctor's appointments. No pharmacy visits. It's as if today, at least, his brain tumor doesn't exist, and you know what? We like it that way. Just because someone might have cancer, it doesn't mean that cancer has them. Which is just another reason we're going to beat this thing.

So if you happen to see Bryan in Vegas, make sure to say "hi." He'll be living (and drinking) it up, but more than anything, he's letting cancer know that, this weekend, he's the one in charge.

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