Announcement

Okay, everyone pick one letter out of the alphabet. Those few of you who have done this before are allowed to reuse the letter previously selected, or select a band new one. Ready?

The letter is 'C', as in the big casino, as in cancer. I've got it.

This is my second time at bat. I went three rounds with the Big C in July, 2014. It was six kinds of hard life, but I was the last man standing. That was then, this is now.

This is a different kind of cancer, not caused by the same virus that caused the old cancer. This is nice, new cancer! Isn't that special? The other little ray of sunshine is that the cancer hasn't spread. It's taken over a portion of my tongue, but it's let the rest of me alone.

I had a meeting with my doctor today (9/14/26), Catherine T. Haring, MD. The lady is a saint, and so is her staff. Moreover, she's good at what she does, and by that I mean really good. I'll be meeting with her and the team on Wednesday, September 16th, 2026 via telephone, and we'll decide on treatment.

Three general types of treatment are possible; five if you count those not mentioned by the good doctor Haring.

1. Surgery. The sawbones would remove about two-thirds of my tongue, which is called a glossectomy (removing part or all of the tongue) and probably a neck dissection to remove nearby lymph nodes. Reconstructive surgery can, in theory, help restore talking and swallowing. In this case the sawbones will fashion me an artificial tongue using tissue from my thigh. My left thigh, I'd suppose, since that's the side that the cancer is on.
2. Radiation and Chemotherapy. Again, part of my tongue comes up missing, and the treatment makes the patient so miserable he wants to die, but can't because the effort of loading his revolver is too much for him to accomplish.
3. Newer drugs target specific chemicals in cancer cells and/or help the body's immune system fight the disease. When this works, it really works well.
4. Not recommended by the doctor. Cash in all your chips and head for Las Vegas, Bangkok Thailand, or some similar place. Get a .44 Mag and one round of ammo. When you're dead broke and in hock up to your ass, use the .44.
5. Decline treatment and check in to hospice. Reassure everyone who comes to visit that you're okay, and you're fine with life after death.

I'm in pain most of the time. I take Oxycodone 10 MG TABS, Ibuprofen, and pot. The pot gummies actually work well so long as you don't take too much (Wheeee!!!).

I can't eat any form of solid food. Nope, not happening today, and tomorrow isn't looking good either. I drink... Boost, along with similar beverages.

I'm inclined to select treatment option three. In case of failure, it's option five.

Yours,

W.L. Emery