EXCERPT FROM BALL: A TRAUMEDY by Brian Lobel

Conclusion...
A Tour de Force

 

I survived.

But what do I win? Lance Armstrong got the Tour De France, speaking gigs and a ghost writer, everyone else gets all this wisdom and depth that only derive from cancer, and what do I get? If I wasn't going to become a better person because of all of those procedures than I sure as hell better win some kind of competition.

Competition! I need to be a hero. A role model. A SURVIVOR! I was actually considering sports which I hadn't done since my leg surgery in fourth grade. And, PS, I STILL HATE SPORTS, and I STILL HATE TO COMPETE. Maybe ballroom dancing. Yeah, ballroom dance just became an Olympic sport. I dance. I have nice posture. Ooh, cancer survivor turned Olympic gold medalist - that would definitely make the ticker on CNN. Cancer survivor turned Olympic gold medalist - hah, not even Lance Armstrong has an Olympic gold medal! You can't just survive cancer anymore. I know that I will probably never be the best role model or ideal survivor - but I will die trying.

July 1 st , 2003 . Indiana University Purdue University of Indiana Hospital Stem Cell Transplant Reunion Picnic. For all of my wonderful doctors and nurses a chance to reflect, to reunite and to share in the blessings of life, family, and community. I was three days out of the hospital, and ready to kick some ass. The day was bright and sunny - as saccharine-sweet and sentimental as the day of any cancer-survivor picnic should be. We all gathered in the park - about five miles from the Indianapolis Speedway - and celebrated - we celebrated living. ( ìCelebrationî plays )

The Stem Cell Transplant Reunion Picnic Hula Hoop Contest. Eight unironic, cute little daughters of stem cell transplant patients - who I'm sure were once upon a time frozen in International Cryogenics Incorporated - versus Brian Lobel, the world's most competitive cancer survivor. A race to the finish, a fight to the death. Winner take all - a Coleman folding lawn chair. They were nothing. The world needed to see who the real cancer-survivor-turned-hula-hoop-champion was...and so, I hula-d. (Brian begins to hula)

If it was a title that Lance Armstrong would never hold, I would hold it, and so I focused, intensely, passionately...My hips began to twirl on their own and my mind began to flash back over the last 8 months...boring, endless, depressing, near defeating...the support, the love, the compassion...the hundreds of people who didn’t make mention in this cancer story because they were beautiful, and perfect, and caring, and kind. 

Most of the crap that I hate about cancer is story after story about people supporting and loving each other with cancer.  That’s so, obvious.  But I do feel indebted to those people.  Even those people who said obscene things to me like “But thank God you have a good cancer” or “Your spirit will get you through it,” had enough love in their hearts to attempt to connect with me because they

cared - regardless of the fucked-up way that they demonstrated their compassion.  They supported me enough so that I could survive cancer and write a story about balls, tubes and masturbation.  I’m sure they’re proud. 

I thought of my parents, my family, my doctors and my cohorts in struggle...if there were words to describe them, I would tell you.  Everyone should experience that love in their life...

FOCUS BRIAN.  DAMMIT.  Don’t give in to that mushy, sentimental bullshit.  You’ve got a match to win.  OK Guys, you’re doing great out there.  Now it’s time to take a big step to your right.  DON’T FALL BRIAN.   STAY UP, STAY FOCUSED.  4 girls lost their hula hoops when they stepped to the right, but mine stayed snug-ly around my hips...and again my mind began to wander...

8 months.  Gone.  Like that.  One day, I was studying and living and dancing and hugging and experiencing, and then cancer.  The path back to normalcy would be a long and tedious one.  I could see a year into the future and see how my scars still haunt me, how the smell of saline still reminds me of the hospital, how people wonder at my healthy appearance and comment, you look so good, thereby never letting me forget all the time they worried, and how sick I really was - I did not realize this was a life sentence.