So, I finally have a sword…
The secret of being a bore… is to tell everything.
And yet, there I go. This is my blog, which no one reads, so I can go bonkers.
During a short hiatus, we (this is not a royal “We”, this “we” is actually we—my wife and I; I am not allowed to meet alone with the people who gave the Hippocratic Oath, for it is evident to everyone—but me—that I am chronically unable to understand them correctly) met with the team, treating me—A.K.A., The Mandarin Factory—several times.
At the first of these meetings (the negotiations with the pharmaceutical company that develops the immunotherapeutic drug my doctor decided to try on me since my current chemo cocktail was doing a much better job on the host than my Cancer Al tenant/pet, were at that time not yet complete) my doctor looked at the results of my blood test and became noticeably confused.
“Have you had a blood transfusion?” he asked, “I do not recall ordering one for you…”
He checked my file. I had not had a blood transfusion.
“But your numbers are within or even better than normal, how is this possible?”
I had no choice but to confess.
Today I am 20,000 days old. That’s all I have to say.
This photo was taken on the western-most observation area of the Grand Canyon. This is the spot, where I would like my ashes to be… (whatever it is they do to ashes—scattered? spilled? tossed?). To end up, eventually. At sunset, preferably—the view is nicer.
The place is not that hard to find (I think we took a shuttle bus from the main parking lot), and it is much more beautiful than on this photo—it does not do it justice (much like all 500+ Grand Canyon photos I brought from that trip).