This Cowboy's Naked Truth

Cowboy Update:  Well, the rodeo has started and I am standing behind the chute getting ready to ride my bull.  As they say in rodeo, I drew the money bull, which means it is the biggest, rankest bull the stock contractor has, and if I can ride it, I have a great chance of winning.
     Last night I was transported to UCLA in a meat wagon.  The ride was like riding in a wagon being pulled by six horses, running like the wind and hitting every chuck hole in the road, but alas, we finally pulled in around 12:00 midnight.  Before I left Pomona Valley, I got out of my hospital attire and put on my Wrangles, boots, shirt, wild rag and hat.  When they wheeled me into UCLA you should have seen the looks.  Apparently, there are not many cowboys that come through here.  They got me to my room, a very nice single bed room, and the nurse got me undressed and back into hospital attire again.  They couldn't give me any pain medication because I was not in their system yet, so they gave me my regular medication and I soon passed out.  I woke up this morning at 12:00 and found myself looking at a doctor and two young nurses.  Not one of them looked over 25 and they told me that they need to take a bone sample.  I didn't really hear what they said and it wasn't until the asked me to lay on my side and bring my knees to my chest that I realized what was going on.  They were going to another bone marrow biopsy.  I told them I just had one done a few days ago and asked what happened to the results from that one?  They said they wanted to do their own.  I sat up in been and looked him in the eye and said I was done being poked and prodded like some cow in a chute.  He said if I didn't do this that my body would soon start shutting down and I would be very susceptible to big problems like a stoke, pneumonia and internal infections.  I looked at him and asked how old he was.  He said, "Younger than you."  Wrong answer!  I looked at him and said I have children older than you and if you're going to be working on me he had better answer my question.  I told him that I am a tough old cowboy, I like to ride bull and break horses, and I ain't one of these want to be jackasses y'all have running around down here and if you're going to work on me were going to get to know each other first.  I am not sure if he knew how to take me but he told me he was thirty-three.  I told him that he didn't look that old and I asked him if he was good at what he does.  He said, "Yes I am."  So, I stuck out my hand and told him that I am not as mean as I sound but that I have just gone through so much that I am a little punchy.  He went to grab my hand to shake it and he put his hand about half way into mine before he squeezed and I said, "Stop right there."  I told him I don't shake hands like that.  I grabbed his hand, got holt of it, squeezed and looked him in the eye and said, "That's how I shake hands."  He gave me a firm grip and smiled.  Once we both got on the same page and I felt comfortable he had one of his nurses prepare me for the biopsy.  The whole time he was in the background taking to me while his nurse did all the work.  I said, "I am going to call you Geronimo from now on."  He asked why and I told him that being as he wasn't doing the biopsy himself that he must be the chief sending his warriors out to do battle."  The two nurses started laughing and he said that this is how they learn.  They finally got done with the biopsy and honestly, it was the best one yet.
Now they are getting ready to take me down to surgery to put some mechanism in my body with a line going to my heart so they can start cleaning out my blood and work on getting the white blood cell count down.  Once they accomplish this they will start intravenous chemo on me.  They told me that it was going to be a week of hell and that my mouth would be covered in very painful sores and that the sore could go down as far as my stomach, but they would keep me sedated to take away the pain.  I was told I would lose my hair and I would be very sick.  All of this I already knew from my own research and from people I have spoken to that have experienced some of this.  "The anticipation of death is worse than death itself."  This reminds me of the Louis L'amour novels I read when a cowboy has fought off the Indians all day, surviving until nightfall, knowing that when the sun comes up, the Indians will come back to fight and what lies ahead of him could be the worst.  But, like a true cowboy, he reloads all his weapons and gets ready for the next fight, standing firm, not giving up and hoping he'll be held in once again if he can survive.
I haven't lost a fight since I was fourteen and I don't plan on losing this one.  I may be surrounded by a dozen Indians with only my six shooter and rifle, but I plan on walking out of this hell and moving on to that little ranch with the green rolling hills, a gentle creek running through, cattle grazing and a little log cabin home with a bright smile standing on the front porch to welcome me home.
If anyone can do this, it's me.  If anyone should have to go through this, it's better me than you.  Whatever your grind is in this life, don't turn your back on it, turn around, face it head on, beat it and move on.  Every storm runs out of rain and though I may be in a downpour right now, soon enough the sun will shine again.
Thank you y'all for the support and encouraging words.  Thank you for your prayers and know that I have enough left to throw some up for you too.
Well, it's time to get in the chute and ride this money bull into the ground!