In 2010 while living in Buenos Aires, I was diagnosed with stage IV colorectal cancer. After spending what money I had and selling everything to get treated in the private system, I had to rely on public health care in Argentina, which is open to everyone. These are the posts I wrote during and after treatment. I did not talk to cancer, nor did I win any sort of battle against cancer. From my perspective now, my survival seems to have resulted from a combination of dumb luck, stubbornness, and charity from surprising sources. I also had sex a couple times and got robbed.
This post covers one night in 2013 in Buenos Aires. I’ve been writing it off and on since then. This is part one. Two days before I was scheduled for my third surgery — to check for any remaining cancer and to begin hooking my ass up to my intestines again — I hosted a …
I think it was The Clash. Yeah, I think that was the band that opened the door. “I’m so bored/With the U-S-A!” But it could have easily been Yo La Tengo, or Nick Drake, or even Los Rah-moan-aiz, said in that castellano way. I fell out when he first pronounced it like that: “Do you …
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