Ah, Yes; the "C" Word

There are way more types of cancer than a species really needs in order to knock itself off. One brand of lethal malady would actually serve the purpose intended. Luckily (if I can use that adjective in this context), I have made use of one of the less aggressive types of "oma" on the market today.

To continue the chronology of events . . .

The daily process of re-framing a rationale for not jumping off a cliff in order to save myself, and those who love me, a whole lot of hassle should things take a semi-inevitable turn for the mega-worse, has been quite entertaining. I simply choose a quote from one of my erstwhile caretakers and decide to take it seriously:

1. "Cancers of this type rarely reoccur after proper treatment."
2. "With the advanced technology we have today, there should be no problem getting rid of this type of tumor."
3. "There's a very high chance for full recovery."
4. "At this point, I see no reason why we should have to remove all of the teeth from your right jaw." (etc., etc., etc.)

Leading up to the surgery my perspective was somewhat like the experience of running down an ever-steepening hill while trying to catch a ticking bomb that was continually rolling ever-faster. But, once I was actually in my cozy little hospital bed, enjoying that particular brand of cocktail that one can only find in such a venue, the anxiety actually subsided. There was no turning back and there was no way to predict the future. You have to just let it go.

So, after a few hours of poking, prodding, filling out forms, asking and answering questions, and wondering what the world would be like when I woke up, I was rolled into the operating suite with a smile on my face. Just as I was being transferred to the operating table I went dark; lights out. Next thing I knew I was dreaming that I was fighting off some group of unknown attackers. Turned out to be the nurses in the recovery room. I let 'em live.

more to come . . .