You Know Who I’m Really Glad Isn’t Dead? Michael Douglas.

Because it was a pretty close one, wasn’t it? During those horrible chemo treatments, he looked like any day would be his last, but he pulled through and just recently celebrated a year of cancer-free-ness.

This story hits especially close to my heart, because ten years ago, my mom was diagnosed with an inoperable, incurable brain tumor that gave her blinding headaches and fainting spells. No joke. The doctors told her that she’d probably only live another few months, and that was with intensive chemotherapy (which was administered at home, because she was entirely too weak to be driving – or riding – across town) to sit in a hospital for hours at a time, hooked up to a sterile, loveless machine) composed of both the injectable version and pill-by-mouth versions. The first few weeks were nothing but a waiting game, because the drugs didn’t seem to be doing anything but making her sicker and weaker and prompting us to actually start making phone calls about funeral homes and opening the family vault and “Where is the memorial dinner going to be” and “We’re going to have to go shopping for her after all of this, because nothing but NOTHING is going to fit this poor lady.”

A few weeks later, and pounds lighter, my mom came home from one of her doctor’s appointments full of hope. Well, no, that’s not entirely true. She was actually full of hope from the get-go almost, but this particular day was over the top even for her. She claimed that the doctor was going to try an invasive procedure called Gliadel Wafer Therapy, wherein a microchip-like thing would be inserted into the back of her head and would shoot constant, timed, small doses of the chemo drug in addition to what she was already taking. Needless to say, three weeks later the tumor had shrunk to the size of a pea (it was, at its largest, the size of a standard doorknob), and three weeks after that it was gone entirely.

So my mom’s been in remission for ten years, now, and there’s no sign that the tumor is coming back, but hey. Every day’s really a blessing and though you never really know when you’re going to go, it’s important to know what kind of legacy you’re leaving behind, and I think Michael gets that, too.

And that’s why I’m glad that Michael Douglas did, indeed, rip the head off of that shitty-assed tumor that overtook his throat. He’s a solid dude with a family and wife who’re immensely important to him. Now if we could get him to stop smoking entirely – if he hasn’t already – we’ll be in some even better business.

Congrats, Michael!