A picture of health (wish it was me!)
The doctors have agreed, and here’s the plan so far.
Friday: knock me out at the hospital and put some doohickey in me, somewhere, so they won’t have to poke a new hole every time they want to do chemotherapy.
Next: shoot chemotherapy chemicals into me to beat down Mr. Cancer. I don’t how how long they’ll keep doing that, or what the schedule will be.
Then: Radiation, plus chemo pills. The idea is to shrink the tumor.
And having done all that, it’s surgery.
Oh–but what about my hip? Don’t I need a hip replacement?
Yes, you do, but first they’ve gotta kill the cancer. Physical therapy won’t do you any good if the cancer kills you first.
Oh how I miss our cat! But the job now is to get me off the Grim Reaper’s to-do list.