The Good Old Days
Ron Washington Wisdom
Posted by TFG on 4th January 2013
Bruce McQuain asks, ‘Should we ban “assault” hammers?’ Because, for the children.
I reckon you know my feelings about assault hammers. For clarification & explication, here is mine:
Dead On AN18 18-Inch Annihilator Utility and Wrecking Bar
Sometimes there’s nothing to be done but but tear that shit down. For the record, it does excellent unsubtle demo work.
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Posted by TFG on 4th January 2013
The judge (doctor) handed down his sentence (treatment) yesterday on the sub-carinal lymph node activity. It can’t be radiated, because of all the other radiation I had + it’s right in line with the trachea / esophagus / spinal cord (important stuff? who knew?), and it can’t be operated on because of [see above] plus major blood vessels. And so that leaves chemo, which I basically knew would be the deal. This time, I will be the recipient, and hopefully beneficiary of Gemzar.
I start on Monday, followed by two more infusions, then a week off, then another three infusions, then scans. These infusions are said to be short in length, and short in side-effects. One of the side-effects, though, is suppressed marrow function, which leads to low blood counts, which leads to an ineffective immune system, which means basically hermiting up for two months.
Overall, to me, after a year, the recurrence of tumor activity sounds kind of grim. It’s certainly not good to have it happen so quickly. Mostly, it’s my frame of mind, with winter here, and dim prospects of ever being a productive member of society again. Or enjoying being a non-productive member of society…I saw a kayak on the wall at Walmart the other day. You know how bad I want to be on a river, paddling along with some tall boys & an ultralight rig? I really want to do that again someday. OTOH, WallyWorld has cleared out half of the hunting aisle, of warm socks and camo backpacks and tracking tape, to put in — the baseball equipment!
If I was the head of a royal family in a half-baked HBO drama that will never end (not least because the over-self-indulgent author of the books can’t seem to manage an ending), my motto would be ‘Baseball is coming.’ We would be evolved to hibernate, deep in a cave system guarded by annually-renewed collection of roided-up undrafted defensive linemen, until you could wear batting practice jerseys without shivering.
Boy, I’m tired of typing about this, ya know?
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