Heroes are afraid sometimes, too, which is why Tim Grimes is talking about what happens after the fight.
He shouldn't be here. Not anymore. Not in this life. Not if the first doctor was right in giving him 12 to 18 months to live, and certainly not if the second doctor was right when he said nine months.
That was more than two years ago, but in the doctors' defense, the melanoma was so advanced. The nasty killer would soon spread to his lungs and brain, which the doctors expected, but then Grimes fought it back down to virtually nothing, which the doctors didn't expect.
They found no trace of cancer in his last scan. Gone. Beat. Goodbye.
Cancer-free.
Grimes did this with the help of some terrific doctors and nurses, but also with his Kansas City Royals and his old friends and so many new friends. He turned fighting cancer into something like a party, and even as he's open about all the bad times, there's part of him that will miss the hardest thing he's ever done.
"Now is the scary part," he says. "Now I have to make sure I make it all worth it. That's always been in the back of my mind: 'What if battling cancer was the best time of my life?' I'm kind of worried. What am I going to do for a job? Am I going to go back to hating Mondays, and counting down to Fridays? Am I going to lose this carpe diem I've had?"
It's a good scary, of course. A great scary. But, still. Scary. Grimes and his friends rallied around the fight, and the Royals' rise in 2014 and 2015. Nobody would choose cancer, to go through the pain and exhaustion and terror of treatment, but it did provide for a hell of a rallying cry.
With cancer's help _ and Grimes would say it that way, too _ he traveled to both coasts to watch the Royals, celebrated their first pennant in a generation by hugging George Brett, met movie stars like Paul Rudd, and after Game 7 in 2014 embraced Eric Hosmer and heard the first baseman ask if he was ready for next year.
Now, the real world awaits. He'll need treatments every two weeks _ maintenance, they call it _ and there's always a chance of recurrence. His last scan showed a small mark in his brain, but that could be scar tissue.
Grimes needs a new cause, in other words, and the job search can only go so far. He needs spirit, and energy, a way to make sure a normal, bill-paying, regular paycheck life was worth cheating death for.
Thankfully, Grimes has surrounded himself with friends who can make stopping for gas fun. That will help. So will more examples of people who made, or are making, cosmetically unspectacular lives the stuff of inspiration.
