The tumor is going to be treated by radiation therapy, daily, five days a week, for weeks. The tumor can't be removed - it's a big fat weird tendril in my brain, and removing it would remove quite a bit of speech, memory, maybe arm motion. Nuh-uh. Keep it, but whomp it down so it'll stop growing, and perhaps actually shrink
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thinking of you.
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But I'd love to do it next year. I was going to skip this year and do it next year anyway 'cause I needed to adapt to it. I think after talking to my friends Jeff and Mike about it, I'll get jealous of their Burning Man stuff and really want to go next year, and do more cool stuff helping the whole thing out. And making new whacky things. Maybe I'd take a guitar! Maybe I'd take the accordion! Yeeeeah! 'Cause for one thing it's a cheap-ass Chinese accordion so even if it fall apart in the middle of the desert, what the hell. I figure playing fakey French sad love songs all over the place while wearing a suit, and a beret, that'd be a nice change for the stuff everyone does on the big empty wander places at night. Maybe get some French cigarettes, a big bottle of wine, wander around a smoking, drunk faker of bad French tunes on an accordion...damn, that sounds perfect ( ... )
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I am glad they have a treatment program outlined for you that sounds like they expect it to work!
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"I'm the Ditz!" I can yell. "Boo! Give me the candy before I forget where it comes from!"
I died.
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- I like it! :)
Paul
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