The news from Mondays visit to Hopkins is still sinking in.
Amanda and have decided to cancel todays therapy session, and enjoy a cocktail instead...maybe we should shop around for a counselor with superb mixing skills. Maybe our current counselor can mix a mean cocktail. I should ask.
The looming need for a feeding tube doesn't really concern me -- you can pour cocktails down there, right?
But my prognosis is proving harder to process. In a way, its strange that my prognosis would be so difficult to grasp. I've yet to hear of anyone making it out of life alive. And I've known the destination of this journey ever since my diagnosis.
Maybe the difficulty in comprehending my prognosis is simply because my journey feels like it's taken such a sharp, definitive turn.
Here's a toast to handling sharp turns.