Forward To Them
Two of the ten biopsy samples were positive, so it's time to have the prostate removed. Interesting timing, there was an article in the Chronicle this morning about a study that confirms for the first time removing the prostate greatly increases longevity. Longevity. I was hoping not to have to think about longevity for another decade. You know, lose a few pounds, eat some carrots and tomatoes, cut back on McDonalds and all would be well. I think you're supposed to start in your thirties. Or twenties. Or teens. It's hard to remember.
I'm not sure how I'm going to handle this, it shouldn't, after all, take over one's journal, but I'm obviously going to think about it, or, worse, (I'm such a putz), work at not thinking about it. Huddle under the covers and listen to the Grateful Dead. There are one or two tests to take, I'll check with the cardiologist to see if he'll opine in writing I'll most probably survive the operation, find a prostate surgeon who's done these before, sign away every cent I have or will have or can imagine and go under the knife. You go under, hopefully you come up. Then, I assume, watch for any signs of, um, cells that managed a break out. Another something to not think about after the operation. Or include in the journal.
I met Gwen, Amanda, George and George's wife Gujari Tuesday over at the Alice Street Arts Center in Oakland. I'd received an email from Gwen and Amanda sent to a list of local journalers: "...WHY YOU? Because we like you, even if you have no idea who we are. We may have been admiring you from afar forever." Anybody receiving an email like this doesn't have a hair if he doesn't show up. I had no idea Alice existed, an arts center complex complete with studios, a cafe, display areas and apartments for what one hopes are actual artists. Art and Life in Oakland, in other words, four blocks from the office and I'd not tumbled to it til now. I liked these people, I'm going to show up again. And shoot more pictures. I had a picture of George up on top and then I remembered I'd promised not to run anything without permission. Shit. I didn't have to say that. They wouldn't have asked. And Gwen, I want to run that photo I sent you. It's OK to say no, but just barely. Amanda, you're on the roll still in the camera. I'll send one next week.
So, today, a day not unlike other days except for the session with the doctor, left work early, I'll get to work early tomorrow. A weekend almost here, another Friday. These things are good and I'm looking forward to them.
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