WATCH: Rush “What a Week! I’m One of the Luckiest People Alive”

During his first post-State of the Union show, Conservative icon Rush Limbaugh called himself one of the luckiest people alive.


RUSH: What a week. What an incredible week. I mean, from beginning to end. And it’s still going. And there is still winning that’s happening today. Just incredible. And I’m gonna tell you something, folks. One of the things I’m gratified about — you know, I don’t like to brag, and I don’t like to say, “notice me.”

But everything happening to the Democrat Party today, if you go back and you look at excerpts of the award-winning broadcast, go to, you’ll find that I predicted this implosion of the Democrat Party. And that’s exactly what it is. I mean, you got people writing, “Well, what happened to the Democrats this week is unserious.” It’s worse than unserious.

What happened to the Democrat Party is that they have lost their entire moral foundation. Excuse me. I’ve gotta a cold coming on here, and I’m not gonna worry about hitting the cough switch as often, so just bear with me here. I mean, they have lost their entire moral foundation, and they lost it four years ago.

This is what happens, let this be a lesson to you, folks, in your personal life, this is what happens when you become consumed with hatred. Hatred is a poison. It destroys you because hatred can never be requited, hatred can never be rewarded, hatred can never make you happy. Hatred means you’re requiring something painful or bad to happen to other people. And that’s just not the way to happiness. That’s not the route to success of any kind. And it’s where the Democrat Party is. And I’ll break this down, and I’ll explain it in great, great detail as the program unfolds.

So the last time I was here and we were together was Monday. And I have to tell you, it feels like it’s been two weeks with everything that has happened since then. But it hasn’t. It’s just been one week. And the last thing that I did on Monday was inform all of you of a medical diagnosis, advanced lung cancer. And I told you Monday that I really wished that I could not announce it, because I don’t like making things about me.

And I promised you that I was not going to live every aspect of this on the air. Millions of you have been through it. It’s nothing that millions of Americans aren’t experiencing or haven’t experienced. So you don’t need me sharing all of the details with you. And I wouldn’t want to do it anyway because there’s a lot of factors involved, including privacy and distraction.

And, by the way, folks, I’m gonna be hopscotching through much of this first hour as thoughts erupt in my fertile gray cells. I don’t have anything written here. I don’t have any monologue scripted. I haven’t made any notes to make sure that I don’t forget anything because I’m not worried about forgetting anything. I’m very confident that I’m gonna get everything said here today that I want to say.

Despite living in the public eye, I really am a private person for just a host of reasons, most of which that’s just who I am. I want whatever I’m known for to speak for itself during these three hours and some other things. I’m not interested in being in the news all the time, for whatever reason. Of course, I can’t help it, I am in the news all the time. But it’s not something I seek.

Nevertheless, it has been one of the biggest blessings — you know, I understand now what Lou Gehrig, when he was diagnosed with ALS in the 1930s, he’s announcing his retirement. This is after he has been the Iron Man, played in all these consecutive games, the record wasn’t broken until Cal Ripken Jr. came along.

He’s standing at home plate at Yankee Stadium, and he said, after having announced, the world knew, that he had ALS, everybody knew what it was, that it was fatal and there was no chance of recovery, and there still isn’t, by the way. And Lou Gehrig said, “Today I consider myself the luckiest man on earth.” I’ve seen that black and white film replayed numerous times in my life

And don’t misunderstand, I know he meant it. But the first two or three times I heard it I had trouble processing. How in the world can anybody feel lucky after having been told that you have a disease from which there is no recovery and that it’s fast? And there was a part of me that said, “Okay. This is something that famous people are supposed to say. He’s been very successful in life. He was uniquely talented to play baseball and all that.” And I thought, “Okay. Clearly there is a portion of Lou Gehrig that thinks he has to say this.”

And now I know that’s all wrong. Now I know that there was nothing forced or phony or public-relations-related about it because I feel the same way. I cannot thank all of the people that I have heard from since Monday, and they are still getting a hold of me. There are people I had no idea they knew how to get a hold of me. And the sentiments, the thoughts they’re expressing are just incredibly nice and supportive.

And to have this kind of support and to know it, to be fully aware of it, yeah, it does make me one of the luckiest people alive. I’m trying to respond to everybody. I haven’t even made a dent in it. I haven’t had a whole lot of time to, but I’m going to try. Some people have written three or four times.

And other people are suggesting, “Hey, I know this treatment, I know this hospital, I know this treatment place. You need to call.” I thank you for all of that. I am just inundated with so much love and support, more than I ever knew. And it’s really true, when I sit here, think about how lucky I am that all of this has happened to me.

Now, I know many of you want to know the story of the State of the Union address on Tuesday night and how that all happened, and someday I hope to be able to tell you the entire story. I can’t tell you the entire story now without divulging medical details that I, frankly, don’t want to give. I don’t want to give people an opportunity to start investigating and writing about and pronouncing opinions and this kind of thing. People know enough about what I have.

It’s late stage. It’s advanced lung cancer. But there’s good news associated with the diagnosis and the treatment. So we are where I am to have the first procedure that will set up the beginning of treatment. This is Tuesday, and it is scheduled for 5 o’clock in the afternoon. We took no clothes, Kathryn and I. We just… We went Grub City with shorts, T-shirts. I mean, the whole week’s gonna be in the hospital.

There’s no reason to take a coat and tie. There’s no reason to pack a whole bunch of stuff that you’re never gonna use. “Light” was the byword. The procedure was gonna be 5 o’clock in the afternoon. I’d have to show up for it at 12 noon to do the prep, talk to the doctors and so forth. At 9 a.m., the phone rings. I’ve got the number in my address book. So it’s the White House. I answered the phone, and they said, “Can you hold for President Trump?”

I said, “Yes.”

“Rush! Rush! How you doing, buddy? Great to hear from you! Hey, look, what are you doing later today?”

I said, “Well, I have a serious medical procedure that’s gonna start — all this — at 5 o’clock.”

“Well, look, what’s the doctor’s name? I want to call him and have him delay it for a couple days ’cause I need you down here tonight.”

I said (chuckles), “Uh… (chuckles) Mr. President, um… I’m stunned.”

He said, “Look, your health comes first; there’s no question. But can’t they just do half of what they’re gonna do and then send you down here? Believe me, you don’t want to miss this. It’s gonna be great. It’s gonna be great. You don’t want to miss this.”

Well, I don’t know what’s up. He told me he wanted me to be his guest at the State of the Union, that he was gonna mention my name, recognize me. I hung up the phone and for the next hour and a half, I agonized — I literally agonized — over what to do. Kathryn and I are both sitting in the hotel room. As time is marching on, we’re faced with the possibility of having to ask an entire medical team to broom their schedule and reschedule to accommodate this.

But we haven’t told ’em yet. We’re discussing the logistics. Now, there’s something else. Earlier that day, I had sent EIB One to take my nieces from New York to Cape Girardeau, and it wasn’t gonna be available to me until 4:30 in the afternoon. So I’m putting that in the equation. I mean, there’s no way to even get there even if I want to, unless we charter. We could do that. But no clothes, no shirt, no tie, no socks, no dress shoes.