Are You For Serious?

I’ve always had a side hustle. In the summers, I ran a painting company to make extra money. In the winters, I coached high school basketball for essentially no pay. There was also a brief phase where I made woodcrafts—mostly stupid home-decor stuff my wife liked but didn’t want to waste money on buying cheap China shit.

Cancer has made those side hustles obsolete. Watching me navigate a ladder or operate power tools one-handed is not for the faint of heart. I briefly considered starting a woodshop called “Look Mom, One Hand,” but after a drill accident that cost my dad the tip of his finger and tore a hole in my palm, we swept that idea out with the sawdust (and a little blood). Rising from the carnage of these deceased hobbies came a very original idea: podcasting.

I’ve been at it for a few years now. For a dying guy, I don’t seem to be in much of a rush—amassing a grand total of six episodes in that time. I’ve talked with some really great people, met Kirk Minihane, and appeared on the KMS show twice. I’ve also heard from a handful of listeners who like what I’m doing and encourage me to keep going.

But putting stuff online comes with plenty of weird feelings. At times, I regret doing it. I dread the idea of recording an episode. After recording, I spend seven to ten days stressing about how awful I was, then weeks avoiding the editing and publishing process. The crazy part is that once I finally complete it, I’m always better off for it—and I strangely enjoy the struggle.

My recent interview with Terry Healey (go listen) helped me regain some focus and nudged me to keep going. It reminded me why I started this in the first place. When I was first diagnosed with sarcoma, I felt like a kid dropped in the middle of the jungle and told to find his own way home. I did what every Gen Xer would do: I picked up my iPad and started looking for Ubers.

In my searching, I found something. It wasn’t going to drive me out of hell, but it gave me a compass—and a sense of hope.

It was this guy.

Meet Mitch. Now, you probably know him about as well as I did. I never met Mitch, but he shaped how I approach being a cancer patient and influenced a lot of Stage 5’s humor.

Mitch started a blog called “Are You For Serious?” The first thing I read was this:

“Regardless, we headed down to the OR and I got a round of applause from the surgery team as I walked in because apparently I was the first person they had seen able to walk into the OR instead of being wheeled in. Another concerning moment, but I carried on. Since I was feeling uninspired, I decided to bring a little energy into the room. I gave a quick pep talk, had everyone put their hands in the middle, and on three we all raised them and said, ‘Don’t kill Mitch!’ Made me feel a little better—and I thought it was kinda funny. Might as well go out with a bit of humor, right?”

After that, I read everything Mitch wrote. You couldn’t help but fall in love with the guy. His takes were always laced with humor and common sense. He was my Percy Fawcett—exploring this strange new world where suffering, hope, and humor somehow coexist.

The last line of his first story stuck with me for years and guided how I’ve tried to approach this cancer journey: Just because you have cancer doesn’t mean you have to be a joyless prick. Approaching something so serious with that level of irreverence is incredibly liberating. It’s helped me keep perspective—and a smile—more often than not.

I messaged Mitch a few times to thank him for writing. He responded, listened to my story, and offered advice when I needed it. The last message I sent him was a suggestion that we do a podcast together called “Two Bald Fucks.” Mitch passed away not long after that message. I hope it was from the cancer—and not my content pitch.

In the world of funny cancer bloggers, breathing is more important than talent. Mitch inspired me to face life’s greatest challenge with grace and humility. Rereading his blog this week helped me regain perspective once again. This time, all I needed was the title: Are You For Serious?

Maybe it’s time I start getting serious—not about cancer, but about turning this side project into something more.

Do yourself a favor and read Mitch’s blog, “Are You For Serious?” Then come back here to Stage 5 for a less funny, but still breathing, version of Mitch.