inching alongPosted: March 19, 2012
We make our gains in inches
like soldiers slogging up a hill
The enemy must yield to constant pressure
Or so we think.
Saw the surgeon this morning. Everything looks good, if another lymph gland remains cancerous, they can go in again and out it comes. The incision is healing well, Scar Fade seems to be working although the scar remains an ugly red testament at the base of my neck. The tumor was 3.5 centimeters. So many problems for such a tiny thing.
We fortify our souls in quiet places
where no one else can ever know
Then out among our wishful helpers
And step by step we forward go
Back on the internet, I work the formula age x .8 + 1 for stage 3 + 0 for metastasized and tumor size x .3 add in a pinch of turmeric and shake and 80 plus % for cure. Four out of 5. Good enough odds if you can afford the wager.
We take the meds with perfect timing
Arranging diet and sleep to be just so
Put our faith in this mustard seed of science
please make it die, it mustn’t grow
After work I head out for the Monday night ride. About eight of us ride out seventeen miles. I am lighter, down 25 pounds ( 1.8 stone if you are across the pond ) and although I am still weak, when I stand on the pedals my Specialized Roubaix jumps forward like a rocket ship. All this time I had thought I had a gaited horse for smoothness and it has just been waiting for me to ask for speed. The night is perfect as our line flies over the pavement, each of us taking pulls at the front. This is how a man should be, to live and love and laugh.