My sophomore year at BC, I was in the middle of my two-year long struggle with drinking. I also was still adjusting to post-cancer life and all of the BC ladies that I encountered. Poetry was the best way I could express myself when I dealt with cancer, drinking, and women. It usually ended with me either hearing or reading something like this:
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ufY-7FJLC-C2L61DIkH0rV2SvtDh0OUciYWIvFMC2vyD6ebeQWI7HsXurR223xL0tadvTbZSd3dmx3EXaSKD4LQfVXr5D3nNJIkVvw6BTr31257QQhTc7VNdEnhf8J9pKHt191-9WIrq/s400/MLS+2%253A6+-+Envelope+to+Me.jpg)
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKwP3XNh0ocvGApzJETjGooZhcgCNj433Syfzc1CUmbHJ8KXXdIzd2nhHmc-Tb6xnYkwTsc_3v0y0yJqGwphJEfEeCz0KZV1Nju358cYoZOOze3WG3nLqAdG5CSRcAXQO8H_T_p941rdJX/s400/MLS+2%253A6+-+Letter+to+Me.jpg)
Today is Superbowl Sunday. On Superbowl Sunday my sophomore year in college, I was at McLean's trying to get help for my drinking and emotional issues. When I was there, I was telling one of the doctors about my struggles with cancer, drinking, and women. I will never forget his response: "Well, that definitely sounds like a recipe that will put you in a place like this."
I'm glad to say that I've gotten over the drinking and rejections, and will be watching the Superbowl with friends at a home instead of hospital. Still doing my best to fight cancer...
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