Fuck Cancer

I went to visit my best friend on December 12th.  Took him to his radiation appointments every day, helped him around the house, took him out to eat often, and spent a lot of quality time with him. He was doing pretty well - Good days and bad days, but we were able to do a good bit.

Yesterday I got this text from him:

We'd talked at length about that when I was there.  He questioned his decision to undergo treatment.  My stance was that he had at least try.  If it ruined his quality of life, then by all means quit.

So, I get it.  I understand it.  I accept it.  It doesn't make it any easier but it's his decision, and any decision he makes is the right one.

Yeah, so fuck cancer.

Needless to say, I'll be quitting smoking.

News

 Well, let's see...

My sister is doing well.  The ER doctor said she was good but to follow up with a cardiologist.  I encouraged her.  Let's see if she goes.

My friend with cancer, well, has cancer.  His latest prognosis:

40% chance of living another 3-5 years with chemo and radiation.
2% without.

He started his chemo this morning.

I'm flying out to see him for five days in early December.

My lung cancer screening was all-clear.  Thank Jebus.

I started my hormone replacement therapy last Friday with some implants.  I have blood work on 12/5, which I'll need to reschedule, and a follow-up with my Dr. on 12/16.  Then, if everything's going as planned, I'll have more implants in February.  Keeping my fingers crossed.  For the record, I'm not totally bonerless; Mr. happy just plays coy now that he's on in years.

Cheers, bitches