Clyde seems to be slowing dissappearing, I think he is scared now that we have a slice and dice plan. He is still discolored but it is smaller...hmmm. So when I get back to surgeon, maybe it will be gone. I will never know whether it was cancer, and for some reason that will bother me. They said if it gets smaller during radiation, it is probably cancer. If it gets bigger, it probably is not.
I think the powers that be are just messing with my head. There is a lesson in this, as much as I like puzzles, this one is wearing me out.
I don't want to die, but I am not scared of it. What I don't want, is to have to pack for the trip. I really would need to get rid of stuff if I was terminal, make it easier on my family after I kick the bucket.
I don't love my house, but I won't move since I don't want to pack.
Did you hear about the woman that was missing for four months and they finally found her dead body under a pile of stuff in her home. She was a hoarder and they didn't realize that she was actually dead in the house. I am not a hoarder, but I could see it happening to me. I do have quite a bit of weirdness in my house. Things that the post-death packers would wonder "what the hell was she keeping this for".
What is funny is that a few years ago, I actually lived in a 187 sq ft camper. You can't keep much stuff in that space. I loved it, you had one place to sit and one place to lie down. How many other spaces do you need.
Frankly, I don't think it is a mental problem of not getting rid of stuff, it is a problem of I am too damn tired to carry it away.
So I am not sure that that issue is the great life lesson I am supposed to be learning.
The quest continues.