Poker in the Rear (Liquor in the Front)

It’s all just a blur of events. One fading into the next one. Wait for this appointment. Go. Get a little tidbit. And get sent on to the next appointment. It’s like stringing beads for some really awfully tacky necklace. One I plan to burn when this is all over.

We met with the oncologist yesterday and he was a really nice, compassionate man. All of these doctors have been. And all have been our age with kids our kids’ ages (with the exception of doogie butt-scoper). Makes me feel o-l-d. I still think the docs should be our parents’ age.

A few things we learned at yesterday’s bead party:
1) No chemo or radiation before surgery. Confirmed.
2) There are two kinds of surgery: a scrape and a cut. The cut equals more pathology (read: more peace of mind that all is clear), so we’re opting for the cut. Even though it’s more recovery time. Who wants a freaking time bomb in your pooper?
3) The whole game could change in surgery and we could go back to jail and not collect our $200.
4) The excruciating pain the hubby currently feels is a. “concerning” b. “could mean we haven’t gotten the location exactly correct” and c. “could mean the tumor is growing around a nerve”
5) Not all oncologists think jokes about a cancer patient being a pain in the butt are funny.

We took our dear friend, Brian (TRPL TRBL’s main squeeze), to the appointment with us and he took notes, asked a lot of questions and made sure to show the doc a picture of our girls. Love him.

We talked a lot about what surgeon to use. We want to be proactive and find the best one we can so the hubby can go right back to his old shitty ways, but this is challenging at best. We could fly to NYC and get it done there by one of the very top guys (love me some Brents and what they are willing to do for us), but then we’re in NYC for however long with no support net. Or we can stay here and go with the guy we’re being referred to who seems to be good and is referenced on butt-check.org as the top colorectal guy in CO. This is like the pendant in that ugly necklace. Or even the clasp. Tiffany’s vs. Ben Bridge.

And, again, we had three people text and email us with stuff they were going to do off of my list in yesterday’s blog. Another two who took Bean for over three hours while we did the doc shuffle and squeezed in a quick trip to the grocery. Then that same friend showed up with a gift certificate to dish for our lunch today. Another: Dog food and cat litter dropped off at our door step. Man-oh-man. That’s the part of the necklace we’ll undoubtedly wear forever.

So today is a day off from the cancer party train. At least for now. St. Julien for a massage at lunch. And could we both use some brainless down time. And, oh yea, we still both have jobs. Details. Looks like tomorrow it’s off to the next bead store: surgeon. Or maybe we’ll just take ourselves off to NYC for some pre-surgery Nobu. Now you’re talkin'.

TODAY’S THEME SONG: Stand Up. Luda. Watch out for the medallion my diamonds are reckless. Feels like a MIDGET is hanging from my necklace.