No more grownup scissors for me.
Holding stack of credit card crap in one hand. Scissors in other. Cut too deep. I see it coming but cannot stop and now I have this nasty flap of skin that isn't going to feel like stayinf closed any time soon.
Oy.
'War Stories'
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
No more grownup scissors for me.
Holding stack of credit card crap in one hand. Scissors in other. Cut too deep. I see it coming but cannot stop and now I have this nasty flap of skin that isn't going to feel like stayinf closed any time soon.
Oy.
Ouch, Trudy. Don't DO that!
its queasy-making to be sure
(and I don't usually get queasy over stuff like that)
I got Byron's results back. It's malignant, aggressive fibrosarcoma. No clean margins. Likely to recur. The only chance to eliminate it is radical surgery; I'm supposed to call the surgeon today to see what she recommends doing next.
I may not be online for awhile. I'm having a hard time processing this.
Oh Jesus. Kristin, I'm so sorry.
I'm so sorry, KT. Many chin-scritches for Byron.
edit: read only after you've had your away time! (not scary, just... for later) I know you probably don't want to think about it much just now, but when you're ready to, I've known amputee cats who've gotten around like absolute demons for years afterwards. It's a rough thing to even think about, but if it's what the surgeon says, he's got a good shot.
I'm sorry Kristin.
Oh, Kristin. ::hugs you hard::
Oh, Kristin. I'm so sorry.
sorry Kristin