Questions, Answers, and Whiskey Celebrations

Two weeks ago I had a good MRI. The thing hasn't disappeared or anything but things have been stable for a while. Here's to radiation. Here's to Temodar.

Or is it?

Cuz what did what? Get it? I did them both at the same time over two years ago, continued with the chemo thing, so who's to get the trophy?

Besides me, that is. Cuz I'm still here. Still here with love and the ability to write such gushy words as that too.

So back to the song: How many rounds of chemo can this Jewish boxer swallow, how many pills can he stand? The answer my friend, is no one really knows, cuz this stuff ain't been out long enough for anyone to be too sure.

It's always up to you, patients; it's always up to you. And the people you ask, and what your doctor tells you, and what your uncle the doctor tells you, and what the rabbi tells you, and what your parents tell you, and what your sister tells you, and what you hear inside, what you hear inside, enough's enough, enough's enough, not because you can't take it anymore cuz you can but because the poison's done all it can now and you have overcome this fucking monster, you hear me? I have overcome you, fucking dead armless grendel, and a decision has been made and on next Monday night instead of beginning to take the poison we will celebrate with Maker's Mark, straight up; we will celebrate with whiskey, god, and love.