I remember the exact instant that I had to pack up my cape and retire my bullet-proof tights. The moment that my mask was laid aside. The evidence was revealed in a deep crimson, there was no mistaking it. There would be no reprieve, no second chance. There are few declarations that can stop a man dead in his tracks and alter his life course forever. Cancer. They must be mistaken, not me. This is not part of the plan. Surgery. I can't, I have too much to do. Malignant. No I'm not ready to go. I have a new bride and a new baby on the way. Chemical cocktails. My power is gone, only shadows remain. I used to think that this diagnosis was the sound of the final bell. Invincibility lost. Game, set, match. Wholly mortal. This prognosis redefined who and what I thought I was. It's gone for now, perhaps in hiding, but it will surface again, it is an all too frequent boarder. The fear never subsides, the song never fades. Each new ache or pain raises worries of a possible new assault. The ultimate reality has only been realized in my heart after a decade of searching. I am not alone. My heavenly Father will decide my fate, and you know what, at last I am totally fine with that.
