Groundhog Day. That's what our lives are like. We are living the same day again and again. The same nameless day running over and over. Each version birthing small diviations, tiny shifts.
That's not to say that day is not without its own rewards. There's a comfort that comes from familiarity, it's like being in the cave of a warm blanket.
Unfortunately, that cave offers little protection from an insidious, evil malignancy that spreads over your lives like lichens on the trees, or mold on food. In our case, or Karen's case because she is the one afflicted, "it" is Glioblastoma Multiforma: brain cancer. A real nasty species. An evil core radiating slimy tendrils into the avenues of the brain.
But after an initial counteratack of a craniumectomu on Oct. 31, 2013, Halloween, waging her battle is being conducted from the recliner in the "office"/tv room.
That's not to say that day is not without its own rewards. There's a comfort that comes from familiarity, it's like being in the cave of a warm blanket.
Unfortunately, that cave offers little protection from an insidious, evil malignancy that spreads over your lives like lichens on the trees, or mold on food. In our case, or Karen's case because she is the one afflicted, "it" is Glioblastoma Multiforma: brain cancer. A real nasty species. An evil core radiating slimy tendrils into the avenues of the brain.
But after an initial counteratack of a craniumectomu on Oct. 31, 2013, Halloween, waging her battle is being conducted from the recliner in the "office"/tv room.
There is much to explain. From the deep rich aroma of home-made chicken soup behind me to the life-or-death struggle in the net room.
1:58 PM
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