getting past the denial phase
Last night it kind of donned on me that Holbrook has a brain tumor and we don’t really know what’s going on with it. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve “known” this for a while, but it didn’t really sink in until last night. It might have been because I was drinking like a frat boy on Date Rape Tuesday, or maybe because the last time I saw Holbrook he had to leave the party because he was getting dizzy and his vision was going blurry, or maybe a combination of these and other factors, which I don’t want to delve into any deeper because then I would have to start paying myself therapist fees.
Anyway, it struck me outside a karaoke bar last night, and then I couldn’t deal with people or karaoke anymore, so I started walking home and bumming cigarrettes off of every stranger I saw. Not that I even smoke, but it seemed like the tragically romantic thing to do at the time (have you ever seen James Dean, leaning up against a wall and smoking?). Besides, Holbrook makes cancer look so cool I think I want some for myself.
We had this text message exchange:
me: Please tell me you’re ducking (sic) w/ me, u don’t have a tumor, its all a big joke, ha ha. (T-9 word mode on my cell phone denies the existance of the word “fucking,” preferring to only provide the word “ducking.” Thank you for keeping my language so clean and wholesome, Cell Phone T-9 Word Mode Programming Team!)
Holbrook: it would be nice to say that. but at least its not herpes.
me: Dude, ppl w/ herpes ride bikes in the sunshine.
While the doctor hasn’t put any weatherman style survival probabilities on Holbrook’s case, he did seem very positive, cheerful, and upbeat during their last checkup. Maybe because Holbrook-a-mania is choke slamming cancer’s bitch ass. Or maybe because the doctor had just bought a brand new Jaguar, and who cares about cancer when you get a car like that?
