So the healing starts again. Only this time, it's different. This time I know that the odds aren't great. I know that I may have some difficult decisions in front of me. I hope it isn't so, but I know that I need to be prepared for that possibility. It's kind of depressing.
I'm the upbeat, positive one. I talk Kevin out of any funk that he may get into. He's been talking me out of MY funk for 2 days now. He left this morning for Carthage to pick up Monica and bring her home. They'll be back tomorrow. Natalie will be home from her basketball excursion in a few hours. That's good, since I need some company.
I'm wearing my sling. I'm wrapped in an ace bandage. I've got Neosporin and Silvadene in the places that they are supposed to be. I'm taking my precautionary antibiotics. I'm doing everything I'm told. If I do everything perfectly, I have a 60% chance of being done with reconstruction procedures. *sigh*
Cancer is evil. I kicked it's ass, yet it's still finding ways to get a punch in from time to time. Oh, it won't win, but all of this fighting sure does make me tired.