Today, after having postponed this appointment three times, I finally went for my annual checkup with the oncologist.
I like my oncologist. He’s a very pleasant, easy-going, friendly guy. Low key. Not an alarmist. Sensitive and sensible. But, in the end, he’s the one who will tell me if I have cancer. Again.
So, as much as I like the guy, I’m not eager to see him. Too much history.
I’ve been doing well. I’ve got more energy than I used to, probably because of all the heart surgery a couple of years ago and having a pump that actually is delivering oxygen to my body. I think my breast bone has finally knitted. I no longer hear it grinding when I move.
My double round of breast cancer is now 5-1/2 years past. This makes me an official survivor. I have no symptoms, no lumps, no nothing. I have exactly the same chance of getting some (new) kind of cancer as anyone. Maybe a little higher because it runs in my family, but basically, I am (finally) regular folks.
If you think of “refresh” as that thing you do on your computer monitor to clear up garbage and update your open apps? Today was my “refresh.”
I’m clean. My panel of tests are spot on normal. The lab lady found a live vein on the first stab, too!
How fast time flies! It’s a day short of two weeks since we brought Gibbs home. Amazing how he has become part of the family.
He was a little scared when he first arrived; he’s not scared now. Suspicious of strangers (probably not because he’s a rescue, but because he’s a Scottie), he barks at everyone and everything. Otherwise, Gibbs is as close to fearless as any dog I’ve known. An incorrigible sock and slipper thief, he will happily snag the sandwich from your hand.
Brazen … and funny.
In the presence of roast chicken, watch your fingers. Gibbs thought one of mine was a bonus piece of white meat. Ouch! He has quite a pair of jaws on him. His excitement in the presence of dog biscuits is epic. He looks like he is going to explode. I am guessing his earlier life didn’t include a lot of treats.
He eats faster than any dog I’ve ever lived with. He inhales his meals. I’m assuming he’ll slow down. Eventually.
He is also smart. Very. Smart. A single-correction learner. Assuming he agrees with you on the subject. If he doesn’t agree, he will do as he pleases because like all true Scotties, he’s sure he knows better than us.
He has the energy level of a puppy. It’s difficult to believe he’s nine.
So far (fingers crossed), this is the smoothest integration of a new dog into our household ever.
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