Death is coming for me.
Don’t get me wrong, death comes for us all, eventually. It’s just that I have to deal with the knowledge that death is aggressively coming for me. Following my footsteps, never far away and forever dangerously close.
I’m not trying to beat death any more. Merely trying to shake it off my trail, if only for a few precious moments. Hiding behind a tree, watching the reaper follow the path past me for just a few brief breaths before it wises up, corrects course and is back on my trail.
I’m trying my best to take the most advantage of this time I’m able to have – and of all the endeavors I’ve undertaken throughout my life, I feel like I’m absolutely crushing this. I often feel unwell but try to push through it with a combination of various devices such as resolve, pain killers, rubber bands, superglue and love.
I’m still in treatment. But I’m continuing the treatment intermittently. A few extra weeks in between here and a few weeks in between there, working with my medical team to receive cycles of chemo amidst my attempt to live as fully as I can and fill my remaining time with with meaningful and fulfilling experiences.
Since I received my 2nd Covid vaccine in March, I’ve traveled and seen as many friends and family as I’ve been able to.
I’ve been to Los Angeles.
Wyoming and Montana.
I went on Phish tour like I was 21 again, seeing 6 shows in 8 days with over 3000 miles on the road, through 9 different states.
I’ve had numerous visitors and even a small party.
I’m currently on a plane to Europe, celebrating my first wedding anniversary that occurred last month, with a belated honeymoon to Spain.
I want you all to promise me that when I’m gone you’re not going to shed tears of sadness over me being gone but tears of joy for the experiences we shared and the times we had together.
I want you to think of me and go to the show. Book the flight. Order the dessert. Have that extra glass of wine. Make the time for who and what is most important to you in your life. I want you to try and live your life to the fullest you can, while you can, just like I’m trying to do.
None of us know exactly when our time will come. It really sucks that I know my end is coming but there’s also a silver lining in that since I am conscious of it, I’m able to try and make this journey to the end look exactly how I want. I truly want you all to do the same. Make your life and journey to the end look exactly how you want, regardless of expected or perceived time left. None of us know for sure just when that time will come, so it’s up to all of us, individually, to spend whatever amount of time that is, with intent.
As always, thank you all for your never ending love and support.
I will continue to try to hold off death as long as I possibly can. I will continue to live this life to the fullest I’m physically able to.
I love you all so much.
Until the next time,
5 thoughts on “Preachy Thoughts (and Sentimental Pictures) From Somewhere Over the Middle of the Atlantic”
Your words are honest and beautifully written. Sending you love, comfort, and peace throughout all your adventures and in crushing your bucket list! ❤️🙏
Please let me know if there’s anything you guys need!
Your words are a. Inspiration for all to live by! Love your beautiful photos of all of your adventures with Emily.
Always in my heart❤❤
I’m in complete awe of your resolve and strength to handle this awful disease and impeding result.
I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately, updated here and there from my sister.
Just wanted to let you know that you’re a great guy and I am trying to use a fraction of your strength whenever I am feeling down.
Sincerely and with love,
Brian and Amanda Kenney
Resolve is a strong determination to do something and you’ve already CRUSHED it. I am so proud and amazed by you, Butch. Opening your heart to love, the steadiness in spite of fear, being a reminder to those doubting their every move in this weird space in time (yes, weird) are just a few thoughts I have for you before you go. You know I won’t need to be talked into going to the show or booking the flight, but getting others to live in the moment can sometimes be a challenge. Can’t promise there won’t be tears, but they will be happy ones.
You don’t know me, but I’ve been following your journey via your wonderful posts on YEMF.
You write so beautifully. I have a degree in creative writing and am now in nursing school, aiming to help others in the palliative care setting ever since I lost my mom to brain cancer.
You are such an inspiration and you articulate your experience with some of the most raw, gorgeous eloquence I’ve ever seen. It makes me break down and it makes me that much more motivated to use palliative care as an art form myself.
I am so ecstatic to see you living your life to the 1000th degree. It is absolutely essential and absolutely worth it. Please continue to update us little people on YEMF with your glorious adventures and delightful food escapades. You are setting a truly brave, awe-inspiring, and devastatingly insightful example. Keep on pushin’ till the day. 💜
Sending Lots of Love from Virginia,