This is 42

I’m 42. I don’t feel 42. But just because you don’t feel it doesn’t mean “it” isn’t happening, whatever “it'“ is. Last month I’ve been adulting real hard. Getting a home remodel kicked off and affairs in order like life insurance in case I kick the bucket my son will be taken care of. After a two year hiatus from going to the doctor, I finally went for my annual, ah scratch that, semi-annual check up. These need to be annual or my wife will kill me and these check ups would be all for not.

My father has had three bouts with cancer, dude has nine lives. While he’s still around it’s been touch and go. My grandfather died of prostate cancer. This could’ve been treated but he didn’t want to go to the doctor, this is problematic among black men. Don’t be stupid, go to the doctor, get checked out and handle your business.

For me, all systems are go.

Nothing like looking at your son in the face to realize your legacy.

This is 42.

Swedish Medical Center before I dropped trousers…