Naughty It’s been a busy holiday season, full of surprises for me. I had a Cough that wouldn’t go away. I tried syrups, and antibiotics, and a dozen different things besides. Finally, I saw a specialist, and he took an X-ray. There was a large, black mass around my heart, long, deformed, clawed fingers squeezing the life from me, growing out of my lungs. It was Cancer- inoperable. He biopsied it, which is the polite way of saying he cut a hole in me and took a slice out of me for later. He told me to pray for non-small cell, because apparently that means the difference between a short life and a shorter one. He ordered a full MRI, which showed that it had metastasized to my brain. They made me a plastic hockey mask that stretched over and behind my face by having two grown men push me through what looked like a children’s tennis racket. It was for the radiation treatment. And it worked; it killed the metastasized tumors without making me dumber than I am. But radiation will kill the heart, so it couldn’t save me. The biopsy came back. I never thought I’d cry for joy to hear I was dying, but I did; I guess tomorrow feels farther away when you know you’ll get to have today. I didn’t really get to do any Christmas shopping; I didn’t even help my mother get her doll this year. I’m on oxygen, and a machine pumps air to me through a long hose that gives me some freedom to move around. It’s a pain, and it makes me sympathize with dogs on chains, but it keeps me alive. Heh; I’ve got a leash on life (I’m dying, damnit- humor me). And I’ve just found out that I’ve got an appointment for treatment on the 26th. I’m getting Chemo for Christmas. I certainly didn’t want that beneath my tree; but I guess I never asked for most of the things I’ve gotten this year. Chemo for Christmas Nice       or       Epilogue