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So, the cancer docs I met with yesterday gave me a real tasty shit burger to chew on:
Super fun rare type of tumor that, at worst, is a 1 to 4 year deal; at best about 10-ish with repeated chemo/radiation/removal. Kinda weird going from what I was feeling/considering the best shape of my life to having 1 to 4 years left on the meter in about a week and a half. Side note, grocery store crowds at 4:00 in the afternoon are really weird. That's a strange group of people. |
Also, brain holes look better with staples.
The big, long raw pink scar line isn't a turn on to hot chicks as much as I'd hoped it would be. Kind makes you look like a tard who had some brain removed. |
Man that sucks dude, prayers sent your way. Hope you beat it.
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Actually, let's see...Glioneuronal. (If I read that ****ers Orcish writing correctly.) |
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Did they happen to tell you what chemo you'll get? |
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I take advantage of it. I ride the battery operated carts at Walmart now. :D |
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I had that last year. |
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Hang in there. Scientists are working every day to cure these mother****ing cancers. |
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God's not done with you yet. Chin up! |
Not once has any doctor since last August given me a number as far as life expectancy is concerned. I haven't asked, either.
I've found that best case with Glioblastoma, is 15 years. And that is rare. Age does play a huge factor. I'll be 45 next month, so that helps a lot. 60+ and the prognosis is not good. If I get 10 more years, I can deal with that because I'll at least get to see my son graduate college. :D |
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