I really want to smoke a celebratory cigar. All the good health news and the slow return of front porch weather makes the pull of a good cigar strong. But that’s a “risk factor” of course and I can’t bring myself to do anything so deliberate that might feed my cancer.
I’ve smoked a few dozen cigars in the past ten years, but not enough to trigger anything. Even my doctor scoffed at four or five cigars a year; no risk, he said.
But now my cute cigar box with slicer, lighter, and accessories sits on a basement shelf (and the two-year-old cigars inside must be near dust now.) It’s kind of a stinky habit but it was my only real vice. Damn it.
So the news is good. Clear cystoscopy in January, and if I’m clear in April, we’ll go to every six months, which is good half as often. BCG treatments will continue every six months, but I don’t expect another painful episode like October again.
Also, I finally got around to the Vasectomy that started this whole thing. If I hadn’t had a urologist’s phone number handy two years ago, it might have been much different. So my tubes are tied (relatively simple procedure compared to some things that have happened to Mr Happy in the past year.)
More later.
