Fucking Cancer

First thing this morning I read that Audrey Auld had died.

Cancer. Fucking Cancer.

She was about the same age as Judi was when she died. Talented, brilliant women, beautiful in nature, in the middle of a life....

Fucking cancer.

Sometimes I hate going to the Cancer Center more than other times. It's a heavy, steamy gray morning and there seemed to be lots of skinny, frail people wearing turbans making their way in. Lord I hate chemotherapy. I hate the grayness of cancer. 

The good news is that Ernie's shoulder does seem to be arthritic in nature. He's offended, I'm delighted, as he is when I point out the alternative. He has to go get another MRI on his hip to make sure it's o.k. He's not thrilled about that; the last MRI about did him in. I think with this one he'll get drugged up first. God knows I can't do them any other way.

My boy is doing good.

Just the same...fucking cancer.

Audrey at our house three years ago....