That which doesn't kill us merely postpones the inevitable.
Friday, November 24, 2006
Three Down, Five To Go
Remember that famous scene in The Magic Christian where Peter Sellers has built a giant cesspool and filled it with fresh feces, blood, and other repulsive excrement? And as he tosses pound notes into the vat, expressionless business men in expensive suits climb into the muck and splash around, grabbing for the money?
That's how I feel today, except it's not money I'm grabbing for. It's that elusive and coveted state called "remission."
A single woman in my fifties, in debt, no income, no health insurance, and then that grapefruit-sized tumor wedged between my lungs turns out to be a malignant high-grade highly aggressive stage IV lymphoma. How much worse can it get? Bwahahaha! Stay tuned and find out.