Indeed, being made pain-free and comfortable is a blessing whether or not one is pursuing further treatment options.

All my love to you, JZ and David.

I don't know what I would do. I do know that sometimes people like me wouldn't get all the the choices because of assumptions(In my view, both right and wrong,) about how tough our life already is.(and a bunch of other crap related to money and productivity and such that brings me down more than thinking about tumors, and definitely contributes to the Assumption thing.) I sometimes feel that I have time on this planet I don't deserve, so I feel guilty that I'm not some kind of Phenom that makes the most of every instant. I feel guilty that I can't say that I wouldn't change a thing, love my life, and am eager to fight for every day(That seems like the Good Disability Rights Activist answer, in addition to my wishing it was 100 percent true, but I lie enough in other places...it helps me not to do it now!) I hope this isn't like when I ruin people's online medieval theme park fantasies with my reality.(it's not as fun for me, I should note)

And this isn't really what we do, but {{{Hecubus}}} I'm sorry you had to tell everyone by yourself, but she's lucky she has you to do it.

I'll be over here rooting for every batch of eggs you can possibly produce, and I don't even eat eggs.

Two for two on meals today!

Matilda cheerleading all the way, "Good job, Mommy!"

Awwww, warm fuzzies for me

I just RSVPd to my niece's wedding using a QR code. Truly, we live in the future.

I just talked to Tim, and he kept repeating how tired he was, how he just couldn't keep his eyes open, etc., and I said "Well 2 surgeries in 1 week will take it out of you," and then he muttered "I think it might be the dilaudid they just gave me." Gee, you THINK? I didn't laugh at him, but it was a near thing. I'm laughing now.

I'm taking the opportunity to do laundry and such today, but I will go over around dinnertime today to see him. Murderbiscuit is so confused and keeps giving me accusing looks that basically say "What have you done with Papa? Where have you hidden him?" And I tell him "Papa will be home soon," but he doesn't speak English, so he remains confused.

And I tell him "Papa will be home soon," but he doesn't speak English, so he remains confused.

My mother would point out the blame is in the wrong place, and he remains confused because you do not speak cat. (My mother always takes the side of the pets - see, also, "the dog needs more room" in the car, on the bed . . .)

Rainy day in Maine.

Are you on a trip, Sparky, or did I miss a whole move to Maine somehow...

So many things to respond to in this thread, but mostly I never knew I would feel such joy at a tuna melt.