the way Dr. Weyant explained it to me

was that there were more factors than risk involved

he said the surgery would be very risky. but also, that the chances for benefits seem little to none.

he said they leave most of the tumor in...and even if they take the really bad part out that is compromising the heart, it tends to grow back way fast, as if to say no therapy could help in the brief interim.

he said he is not afraid of the operation. he's been in exactly this situation before, and done this operation in this situation.

but has never seen a positive outcome.

so I had to go along that the operation, the last move on our side of the checkerboard, was inadvisable.

all of my cohearts, all of my prayeramedics, all of my Gentle Warrior readers, lay down your arms. the battle is over now. we bid high and brave with the universe, voicing our bid that now is not the time for my life to be over.

the universe said, we know more than you do about this, and this is indeed the time.

I sit now with a button on my right, that I will push after I am done writing.

Dr. Gore and Ashley Portismount, a Palliative care doctor (last name a silly approximation), came in a couple of hours later to see us. later joined by Dr. Leong.

she/ they had not spoken to Dr. Weyant. we filled them in on what he had said. I think they were not surprised, but Dr. Leong specifically didn't give up easy.

in the end, though, Pappy Yokum had spoken.

so now what?

palliative care.

doing whatever possible to help me feel comfortable in what I think are the few days remaining.

she said that can be done at home, or in the hospital...but the best place set up for it is a Hospice in Lakewood.

I didn't know what could be done there that isn't being done and couldn't be done.

the answer seems to be morphine. this drug will ease coughing, and lessen the feeling of having trouble breathing. at the doses we're currently talking, shouldn't lower the blood pressure. also washes your shorts.

it's like ibuprofen. why is it such a panacea? but ibuprofen sure is.

morphine.

some other time I'll open the association bag and say all that brings up for me.

meanwhile, relief sounds good.

the button beside me is the self guided patient morphine doser. every ten minutes I can push the button.

going to finish this first. worried that if I pushed the button now, I'd start talking like Kim Fowley. (see:"The Trip") or Slim Gailliard, mellowest cat to ever jive a thirties audience (see: the 50's version of "How High the Moon". prepare to LMAOROTF)

the question is always, how long a life is enough? was mine enough?

the answer is always yes. and it's always no. we want more. always.

Dr. Gore and Ashley heard me again speak of my preference of death, rather than hanging on til some fatal painful trauma, being just being put to sleep and not waking up.

is that not being a good soldier? while there's life, there's hope?

honestly, if days got worse from here, I really wanted to know if they had any option that looked like the going to sleep one.

it was the only question I had asked her before that I feel like I had gotten a vague positive response to from Dr. Gore.

but today I had to repeat my idea three times before they stopped re-explaining theirs.

no, medicine doesn't work like that. there is no possibility that looks like my idea.

the Hospice model is that you are kept comfortable, slowing and slowing down, until your heart at last stops.

hey, hey, my my, it's better to burn out than it is to rust.

but if they can give me that...I'm willing to give it a try. just don't know how ready for the world I'm going to get to be.

hope no one takes that that I've been a hypocrite with all I've said about loving life.

there's a terrible movie, Taps, which features a beloved academy teacher, a loyal student body, and the closing of his facility which is breaking his heart. he tells them, go on, take the world, never give up...as long as you fight, you cannot fail.

the student body gets its rifles the day before school closes and takes over the administration building.

and the beloved instructor has to go in and say, no, no, no, this isn't what I meant at all!

but, you said...

yes, yes, I know I said. never give up. never stop. but this is hopeless and ridiculous!

the best spin I can put on today's Hospice news (St. John's in Lakewood, already variously reported as the best), is that I am not going to die in Aurora.

it may be tuesday I transfer there.

I'm sorry I don't have better news. I'll need all of you more than ever. and I'll be honored, today and everyday, by all who respond to my story by living more fully, instead of choosing smaller and smaller lives.

thanks