If lives could be saved with the good wishes of family and friends, no one would ever die. Well, maybe Hitler. And probably those Gosselin douchebags.
I so appreciate all the blog comments, text messages, emails, Facebook comments, flowers, cards, visits and phone calls I’ve received from friends and family in the past few days. I’ve copied all the written stuff into a Word document to keep with my medical info so it’s there when the medical info totally bums me out and I need a lift. Because LIFT ME is exactly what they do. You guys are the best.
Kim F’n started a contest on Facebook to name my tumor. There have been some fabulous suggestions so far; I invite everyone to contribute more—just go to my Facebook wall and look for her post.
I went through the CD of my MRI and CT scans and marked up the CT with the best view of my tumor:
I think it’d be pretty cool if they poked the tumor and a bunch of rum sprayed out. ‘Course, that would’ve happened with the biopsy, so I think the tumor is probably not made of rum. Damn. I could’ve been one of those “bizarre news” headlines.
My mom got here this afternoon. She’s here as long as I need her—so she says; just wait until I piss her off and she storms back to Medford. Anyway, she’ll be getting the kids off to school in the morning so Victor can go to my appointment at the oncologist’s office tomorrow. Ever since she got here she’s been limping around and complaining of back pain (“Oh, it hurts so much! It’s been hurting for days now! Poor me! You have no idea!”). I think she’s trying to steal my thunder.
But besides the whining, what I wanted to do most was thank y’all for the kindness you’ve shown me. I like it way better than the piles of hate mail I usually get.