Max Riffner

The Parlor

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Out Damned (Brain) Spot! Out!

My grandmother had brain surgery tonight. They got it out no problem, but it was cancerous, and it is of a type that is started elsewhere. So, cancer is in her body somewhere, just not detectable yet. She could live years and not have it be a problem.

My grandfather pointed at all of us men and told us that we will all get prostrate cancer someday; medical factoid. Most men in their 80s or 90s who die of something else end up having it. The point he was trying to make is that prostrate cancer in men is virtually inevitable and there’s a good chance that you won’t die from it, that it won’t even be a blip on your radar.

Easy for him to say, he’s already beat it once.

For more medical fun, I called in to get my physical results. Pretty good results, but my liver is worrying the doctor. Could be I’m overweight, especially since my running activity is so low from being winterbound. Maybe I’m drinking too much? I do that too while winterbound. He’s thinking I am at risk of Hepatitis. Either way, I’m tired of everything. Getting up to go to work sounds impossible. Trying to figure out a plan for my life or working on any of the numerous projects that are stacked up seems incredulous. Everything feels like a big pile shit, and I’m greasing the wheels with a glass of scotch, hoping I can take my grandmother to another movie soon when she is up to it.

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