Obviously this isn’t a sports blog unless UFC stands for Ultimate Fight against Cancer, but at least two of our Chemo 13 gang are disappointed after their Washington Redskins fought so well against the dreaded Dallas Cowboys and came up a bit short. Truth be told, I was sure Washington was going to pull it off.
Wednesday’s the big day. I find out if I can drink again -- oh, I mean get my scan results. No one has called and said, “Get in here,” like they did when they found the first tumor by a scan, so it’s probably gonna be okay.
I really don’t have much to complain about except my abdomen is still achy from the bowel resection I had in April. You wouldn’t think it’d still hurt, but it does. And of course that gives me something to obsess about. “Is the pain really cancer? Will it last forever? How come it still hurts? Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
I’m such a sissy!
Anyway Thanksgiving should be pretty cool this year. I have so much for which to be grateful. This cancer thing has really been blessing in one way it has brought all of you into my life (I know that sounds syrupy, but as my favorite fictional detective Jeremiah Spur always says, “A thing can only be what it is”).
I’m running by the library later to get some books to hunker down for the four-day weekend. Kate and I may not get out of pajamas until she gets ready for work next Monday – that includes when we walk the evil dogs.
I guess that’s it for now.
Peace,
Bill
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