So, Hubby and I were talking about less than optimum results last night. His oncologist asked him where he expected all this to end. Him: "With me thanking all of you profusely and walking out of here to my life." Her: "And if this doesn't end up that way?" He says he shrugged and said, "Then I go out like my mother told me I came into the world, kicking and screaming and covered in someone else's blood." Apparently the oncologist smiled at that.
So he's actually OK either way, he says. He's more worried about me. He did say, "I've been thinking how to get a small knife encorporated into my wedding ring." A Viking only gets to Valhalla if he dies with a weapon in his hand. I told him, "Your weapon is your will. You're never disarmed." I think the last time he grinned like that was when we were on a battlefield together.