So Close I Can Taste It

For three years now I have contemplated what being declared "cured" would really mean to me. How would it, if ever, come about? Would such a feat actually be accomplishable? Who would tell me and how would my family react? Both technically and subjectively the concept of being "cured" has weighed heavily on my mind since the spring of 2009.

The search for such a cure has taken on a life of it's own for me. And in ways that I could have never imagined. I now know that my cure will be a life-long journey. A journey that is never ending and always evolving. It is crystal clear that my cure involves much more than my cancer, (or lack thereof) but has everything to do with the people and the love that surrounds me. I have gone from seeing "the light at the end-of-the-tunnel", to waking-up every morning thankful for the sunlight that graces my eyes.

"Thunder is good, thunder is impressive; but it is lightning that does the work."

-- Mark Twain

He's right, thunder is impressive, yet its bark is more serious than its bite. We live in a universe filled with thunder. I now only seek the light, for the light holds the truth, as does water holds the body of life.

My confidence for finding complete cure grows each day, and my senses tell me that such a title is both earned and rewarded. Medical and political influences are working with and against me. Luckily, I am a master politician. I'm willing to venture round the world, cater to all parties, to sacrifice and lobby for the causes I value most.

Here I am taking a quarterly M.R.I. of my abdomen and pelvis at MD Anderson. I was happy to joke with the radiologist that I was bringing new meaning to the acronym M.R.I. - Mexican Resisting Illness!

-MexStrong

M.R.I. - Mexican Resisting Illness!