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It's an especially thankful time here in Averyland. Another round of chemo, another round of imaging, and it looks more and more like my brother-in-law may win his cancer fight. The main tumor's shrinking "spectacularly," according to Dr. Bigwig, and the metastases are starting to respond, too.
Cancer makes you thankful for the weirdest things. The chemo alone won't be enough to finish the job; there will have to be a big scary surgery for that. When we got word that Zach would get to have his scary surgery, with its 50% odds that he'd make it off the operating table alive, we cheered. He gets to enjoy the holidays with the kids before the day, and those 50% odds are better than any odds he's been quoted for anything since June.
Back in early June, the first doctor thought he might live five months, on the outside. He's already beating that.
Is it Lewis Carroll who talked about doing six impossible things before breakfast? How about just one improbable thing before Groundhog Day?
Cancer makes you thankful for the weirdest things. The chemo alone won't be enough to finish the job; there will have to be a big scary surgery for that. When we got word that Zach would get to have his scary surgery, with its 50% odds that he'd make it off the operating table alive, we cheered. He gets to enjoy the holidays with the kids before the day, and those 50% odds are better than any odds he's been quoted for anything since June.
Back in early June, the first doctor thought he might live five months, on the outside. He's already beating that.
Is it Lewis Carroll who talked about doing six impossible things before breakfast? How about just one improbable thing before Groundhog Day?
