Alice Alice Alice Alice

Who do you want to get rid of someone who's just had a tumor?

While I was starting to recover from surgery, I was preparing a song to play on the guitar during the first call I'd make. I practiced every day, knowing that my voice was terrible. And damn it, I believed in it.

Like an idiot, I'd open my phone, grab my new guitar, strum a few chords, and start singing. I tried and tried again.

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Alice Alice Alice Alice

A new shitty misfortune

The funniest thing about having a new shitty misfortune is that I can make jokes about it. It's not every day you get a tumor, after all. I have my limits too. As my mom always says when I tell her, I only had a benign tumor. Not malignant. And that fucking matters. But now I can make jokes about a tumor. Benign.

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Alice Alice Alice Alice

Complications

The average age of people around me in this waiting room is about ninety six years. We are here for the same reason. Just a shot of the vaccine.

We are all at-risk guys. But they had to wait fifty years more than me. I’m here. I didn’t have to wait like you. I didn’t have to wait ninety years to be at-risk. You had to, guys!

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Alice Alice Alice Alice

Eclipse

Many years ago, I was in the hospital. I was in the hospital because they had to operate on my lungs. I was home for a while. Then I would go back to the hospital. I was going back and forth. When I was at home, I knew I had to go back. It was just a matter of waiting.

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Alice Alice Alice Alice

Cortisone

I have another follow-up exam tomorrow. Every four to six months, I have one. I'm not scared. Or rather, I am. I'm claustrophobic, and I'm terrified of the MRI tube. I'm more afraid of the MRI tube than I am of the idea of still having the tumor. Tumors don't require claustrophobic tubes. They require cortisone instead.

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Alice Alice Alice Alice

Beer, Sport, Work, Women

Like when I'm with the fathers I have to stay with. Dinner table. Mothers and fathers. I'm on the wrong side of the table. I always feel like I'm on the wrong side of the table.

But I repeat myself: I’m a man. My body tells me I’m a man. Maybe. Sometimes. I don’t know.

So… what is a man?

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