To misappropriate Charles Dickens: These are not the best of times, nor are they the worst of times. These are simply, well, times.
On the one hand, the tumor in my spleen is a little bigger. About 10% bigger.
On the other hand, the one in my liver appears to be benign.
(We have to pretend that we're aliens or octopi for this one, because we need a few more hands.)
On the next other hand, Yeravoy, the drug I just finished, does some of its work after the treatments are done, so we don't have a full picture yet.
On the other hand after that, we could just not wait for the full picture and start the next treatment.
On the newest other hand, the docs want to wait two months, do a re-scan, and then decide next steps.
On the other hand sitting over there in the corner, I won't have to do any treatments or belly shots (BLAM!) during those two months. Just wait.
On the other hand that's in grandma's trunk in the attic, waiting is hard.
On the other hand that's in the dirty clothes basket because it's got ketchup all over it, waiting gives us the most accurate picture about what's actually going on with Tumie, as I have now named him. I am all for making the best, most informed decisions.
So, we're waiting for two months. I hope that's the right decision. I told Keith I just have to choose a course of action and then let it go. I cannot start second-guessing myself right now or I'll go crazy. But still…
And then they called tonight to tell us that we only have until the 5th of February to be out of the Peddlers Mall, not the 10th as originally promised. Supposedly, there was a misunderstanding. Supposedly. Given the way the property owners have been acting over the last six months, I have my doubts.
Anyone wanna trade lives? I'll throw in the extra hands, if you need them. After I get through packing up, of course. In fact, I'm searching right now for my set of spares. And calling my cousin Sid the Squid.