carbonated joy

The scrappy old Fighter walks from the locker room into the musty old Sportatorium arena to prepare for the fifth round.

He looks toward the boxing ring and he sighs…

He is sore.

He collects his scattered thoughts and draws inspiration from stories of old..

Underdog stories where odds were defied and the impossible became possible…

There was a story, maybe you’ve heard it, of a tough but kind-hearted small-time young boxer from Philadelphia who gets a shot at the world heavyweight championship. He faces an intimidating opponent. But, YO! He overcame tremendous odds and he went the distance.

There’s another old story of a second string shepherd boy facing off against a giant professional warrior. The boy faces tremendous odds. His opponent was a beast. His name alone paralyzed people with fear. The boy though isn’t afraid, he knows the size of the God who fights for him. And so, as he climbs through the ropes into the ring, he has got a brain full of faith, rather than fear. He also has a slingshot and a few smooth stones. He takes the giant down.

Underdog stories.

As a five foot tall man who has the eye of the tiger…

But the motor skills of an elderly sloth, I love underdog stories.

I currently find myself facing an opponent whose name alone paralyzes people with fear.

I’m not gonna lie, round four was tough.

We got a report that brought some fear to the fight. We wrestled with our feelings, and we chose faith.

Round four was tough.

The belly bully has packed some powerful punches

The side effects seem to stretch farther and pack more of a punch.

There have been sleepless nights.

There have been really bad backaches and hands that are still wonky, it’s a major accomplishment just to button a button or pick up a little pill.

The sluggishness lasts longer.

The confusion is thicker.

The chemo drugs have caused some major acid reflux, resulting in some of the most epic belches of my life!

Twelve year old me would be so proud.

I have unwanted superpowers…

I have super smelling.

My normal sense of smell has been multiplied by about 74 times.

That has been kinda cool with the fresh fall air.

But, not so cool with other things like when I burn my bagel.

Aromatic things like AXE body spray and perfume are a total kick in the lungs.

I also have selective super hearing.

I’ve always been a loud dude. I shout and like to make sudden outbursts of spontaneous noise. But, that has been turned around. Now, if someone claps, it’s like they clashed some cymbals inside my brain. Any loud noise is like a hand grenade going off in my eardrums, it’s kind of frightening.

I’ve had super rosy cheeks during this entire round, my red face has made me look, because of the shape of my head, like a happy tomato.

The belly bully has packed some powerful punches, but I’m ready to punch back.

I love underdog stories.

In part of the story about the boxer from Philadelphia, he starts taunting his opponent by saying, “You ain’t so bad, you ain’t so bad, you ain’t nothin’. C’mon, champ, hit me in the face! My mom hits harder than you!”

I’m not going to get cocky, because after all I have the motor skills of an elderly sloth.

But I can be confident because I’ve caught a small glimpse of how big my God is.

He fights for me.

I also know that my mom is a prayer warrior and she hits hard.

I climb into the ring.