Strong. Fighting. Surviving.

I love my oncologist. In fact, I think I’ve developed a little bit of a crush on him. He’s incredibly smart, compassionate, and a gifted photographer. Usually he’s very cautious with his words and knows how much (or how little) information I can handle. I don’t know if I would be here today if he had told me upfront the extent of the tumors. He keeps me focused on remission and still refuses to talk about my chances, time estimates, etc.

During a recent meeting, however, he used a boxing analogy to describe the cancer and my fight. This analogy has haunted me ever since, keeping me up at night. The cancer, he said, is like Mike Tyson, Iron Mike Tyson, “The Baddest Man on the Planet.”

My doctor explained that partial remission is the same as knocking Mike down, and while the count is going, he‘s not out yet. There’s a good chance that he’s going to get back up and start fighting again.

Between you and me, I really could have done without the mental image of having Mike Tyson (face tattoo and all) threatening my body. In fact, it’s absolutely terrifying. He’s uncontrollable and untouchable, a category five hurricane approaching my shoreline.

I’ve been using visualization to picture Mike getting smaller and smaller, just like my tumors. Maybe I should start calling him lil’ Mikey. Eventually, I hope to get him small enough to flush down the toilet, but until then, I’ll just stay on my toes, bobbing and weaving, hoping that the count to ten is a fast one. Oh, and I plan to tell my doctor that he may want to rethink using that analogy with any other patients.