On Monday September 15th, I knew I was facing the start-up of what are scheduled to be my final 12 treatments of chemotherapy beginning on Wednesday September 17th. So, I emailed a good friend who owns a pretty decent size plot of land out in the country and a few guns and told him, "I think I need to buy a few boxes of shells and come up to your place and blow the living $#@% out of something that’s already dead or at least inorganic anyway. You still shoot food, don’t ya?" His reply made it clear that he did. And within a few hours he informed me that another friend had just contacted him and requested permission to bring an 1898 bolt action Krag Springfield Rifle up to the house the following day to fire a few rounds.
For some folks, maybe a weekend meditation retreat would have provided just what the doctor ordered. But it was a s clear as a bell to me I needed something a little different. And man it felt good to let out some of that steam. I have been 100% committed to being fully self-expressed throughout this entire process and I was clear that I was just a little pissed about the fact that six months of chemotherapy was the recommended treatment for a person in my shoes. Six stinking months of this stuff???
Yeah. I want to go shoot the living daylights out of something that won't matter much. I must confess the world now has one less 2 1/2 gallon buckets at it it's disposal. But I'm sure we'll all find our way through that one. Needless to say, Tuesday the 16th was quite a blast.
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