Jordy Ponce

recovering from chemo on my parents' couch, and pretty much moaning under a blanket with existential dread.

I mean, if you can imagine my parents going about their business throughout their day in the house, and from under a blanket, muffled sighs of, I feel like a ghost, I'm not alive anymore, and I really hope there's an afterlife.

I was scared.

The only thing that brought me any solace was torturing my father with morbid humor.

One day we were driving in the car, he was driving, and I tilted my passenger chair back and I said, dad, let's pretend like this is my death bed, okay?

And I kind of half closed my eyes and I coughed a little for effect and I said,

Dad, Dad, I'm drifting toward the light.

This is your chance.

Tell me, what do you want to get off your chest?

And he said, I'm trying to drive.

I'm not playing this game.

And I said, Dad, this is it.

Unburden yourself with all your personal and family dark secrets.

And he said, I'll tell you a secret.

Don't ever pull this stunt with your mother.

I thought that was pretty good advice.

She was a little more emotionally labile than we were at this point.

So yeah, time trudged on and I entered a really dark place.

I was super depressed and hopeless with everything we had learned.

And it was interesting to observe myself as a psychologist going through this because I had definitely underestimated the paralyzing weight of depression and hopelessness.