Costa Rica: Cancer Patient Shares His Ups and Downs · Global Voices
Eduardo Avila

An anonymous, 45 year-old Costa Rican recently received some sobering news, and decided to share the news with the world through a blog, even before sharing it with his family.  He begins:
Como lo hago desde hace varios años, alrededor de la fecha de mi cumpleaños me hago un chequeo médico general. El viernes me confirmó el médico que en las radiografías de los pulmones apareció una mancha que definitivamente es un cáncer de pulmón. Nunca he fumado, más que en un período de rebeldía cuando tenía dieciséis años.
Just as I have been doing for many years now, close to my birthday I receive a general medical checkup.  Last Friday, the doctor found a spot on my lung that appeared on the x-rays.  I have never smoked, only in those days of rebellion when I was 16 years old.
The blog called Diario de Un Enfermo de Cáncer [es] or Diary of a Cancer Patient is documenting the struggles of the man recently diagnosed with the disease, including the reaction of his family when he told them [es]:
Ayer me armé de valor y les conté a mi esposa e hijos que tengo cáncer. Las acciones de la Scott Paper de seguro van a subir, de la cantidad de Kleenex que usamos.
Mi esposa es una mujer ejemplar. Valiente, a pesar de esa suavidad de carácter por la que todo el mundo la quiere. Aunque derramó algunas lágrimas, se mantuvo ecuánime y nos infundió valor a todos. Está segura de que podemos vencer al cáncer, así en plural, entre todos. No podemos darnos por vencidos. Como a mi me gusta mucho el futbol, me dice que terminó el primer tiempo 0-1, pero aún tenemos otros 45 minutos para remontar el marcador.
Yesterday, I gathered the courage and I told my wife and kids that I have cancer.  Surely the share prices of Scott Paper will go up, with the amount of Kleenex that we used.
My wife is an exemplary woman.  Brave, even with the softness of character that the entire world loves. Even though she shed some tears, she remained calm and provided bravery to all.  She is sure that we can beat the cancer, just like that in plural form, all of us.  We cannot feel defeated.  Since I like football, she tells me that the first half ended 0-1, but we still have 45 minutes to overcome the score.
Even though the blog recently started recently, it has already attracted quite a following of well-wishes and other concerned with the man's diagnosis.  He posts one more time before his surgery on Friday, saying that he must educate his wife on the financial matters of the household for the worst case scenario.  However, the most recent post is also an opportunity to reflect on the possibility of death.  He is not afraid of dying, but afraid of what he might miss:
Lo que si me preocupa es no vivir lo suficiente como para “ver el final de la película”. Mis hijos están muy chiquillos, y son lo mejor que me ha pasado en la vida. Tal vez soy egoísta, pero no quiero perderme un día de sus vidas. Quiero seguir disfrutándolos, quiero seguir riéndome con sus ocurrencias, babearme con sus talentos, en fin, quiero seguir presente en sus vidas.
What worries me is to not live long enough to “see the end of the movie.”  My children are still very young, and they are the best thing that has happened to me in my life.  Maybe I am selfish, but I don't want to miss a single day of their lives.  I want to continue to enjoy them, I want to continue to laugh at their witty remarks, be overrun by their talents, meaning, I want to remain present in their lives.