|Me with that umbrella over my head|
Good news this morning folks! I had my appointment with my oral surgeon doctor at 9:00 AM.
For the past two weeks I've been living under a dark cloud. I've been carrying an umbrella over my head, hoping to stave off yet another medical situation. Try as I might to go about my daily routine, that dark cloud over my head (tongue cancer) followed me around over my head. That dark cloud disappeared this morning when I received the results of the biopsy of my tongue that was taken last week.
When I went into the doctor's office this morning, fifteen minutes ahead of time. Checking in with the woman behind the glass window, "Ron Tipton here for my 9:00 AM appoint with Dr. T.......", I was on the lookout for any sign that they KNEW. All smiles. Was that good? Bad? Reminds me of the times I went into a medical facility for the results of my HIV test (four times). Every time I was a nervous wreck, a bundle of nerves; sure that they KNEW.
All smiles this morning though. All smiles.
I sat for about ten minutes playing with my iPhone, not really focusing on anything I saw on my iPhone. Then came the CALL. "You can come back Mr. Tipton."
Oh oh, was that a smile? Yes, it was. I saw no pity in her genuine smile.
As I turned the corner to my box waiting room and that hobby horse thing that they have you sit on while you wait for the doctor.
I had a few more minutes to contemplate my future without my tongue or worse, a diagnosis of terminal cancer. At first I considered living my life without my tongue (hard to imagine). Then living what few months I would have left unable to eat nothing but smoothies, ice cream and water ice.
|Ron's Pie Hole|
How long would I continue to live my life this way? When should I make plans to sell my house and move to California, which now has a Right to Die law. Yes, that is my plan folks. If and when I ever receive such a diagnosis, I will not end my days in an assisted care facility, exhausting whatever funds I have left to the bottom profit line of said chain of assisted care facilities. Spending my finals days being administered my pain killer pills by minimum wage, mostly female workers. Just another patient on the doctor's rounds. Eventually ending up at a hospice for the Final Exit. No way folks. No frigging way. Not me, not now, not ever. But then you never know because my longtime friend Bob McC. often told me the same thing but that is exactly the way he ended his days. Going through his $100,000 plus life savings in little over a year, being spoon feed his medications by those same minimum wage workers, and being restrained like a prisoner in his own body.
All these thoughts were soon dispelled when my oral surgeon doctor came through those glass doors. His assistant was still smiling.
The doctor sat down and brought out a sheet of paper. He said "When I read the results of a biopsy like yours I always go to the last line because that is what my patients want to hear." He looked down at the paper, put his glasses on and read this:
|Daffodils from my garden which I will see bloom again|