A clean bill of health

Well it’s been several months since the coalition forces at Emory Midtown Hospital launched a surgical strike against that ragtag faction of insurgent cells, allowing harmony and democracy to reign once again in my chest cavity.

A PET scan last week revealed that the fragile peace is holding and those rogue cells have not decided to wage another offensive against my peace loving breathing organs (or thankfully, any other vital parts).

I’ll go back in 3 months for another exciting spin on the old scanner, but for now, I’m enjoying my clean bill of health.

Many months ago, I promised I wouldn’t go all post-operatively wishy-washy (at least no more than I usually am) and weigh you down with an undue amount of life after lung surgery stories. I’m proud that I’ve been true to my word,  but on this occasion of the revelation of  my clean bill of health, I hope you will indulge me just a few observations gathered over the past five months.

I’m a lot less tolerant of tobacco smoke. There I said it! I’ve lived, loved, and laughed with smokers and it’s never bothered me. Now, I move like Michael Vick running from PETA when even a whiff of tobacco smoke invades my personal space.

I never fully realized the grip cancer has on our humanity until a couple of visits to Emory’s Winship Cancer Institute. I was one of the younger folks waiting for consultation and/or treatment. I was a little bummed out until I saw someone clearly younger than me and I began to wonder how that person must have felt.

On a much more positive note…

As I alluded to a couple of weeks ago, much like Pete Parker after that spider bite, I’ve been infused with an almost super human dose of positivity that has pushed my already happy demeanor disgustingly off the charts — and it is entertaining the way this pisses off  those who find pleasure in negativity and cynicism.

Finally, as a result of doing the whole healthy eating thing and amping up the cardio  — like Jane Fonda jacked up on Tab —  to rehab what’s remains of my right lung, I dropped a couple of pounds and went down a couple of pants sizes. Hold on…random Rocky III reference “….he’s so trim, he looks like a middleweight!” Not hardly, but I am seeing scale numbers I haven’t seen since the Cosby show’s first run! (I could probably get one more 80s reference in this paragraph, but I’m Too Shy Shy and it’s time to Beat It!)

This concludes our special report on the ongoing war on adenocarcinoma. Please join us next week as we return to our regularly scheduled programming.

Well it’s been several months since the coalition forces at Emory Midtown Hospital launched a surgical strike against that ragtag faction of insurgent cells, allowing harmony and democracy to reign once again in my chest cavity.

A PET scan last week revealed that the fragile peace is holding and those rogue cells have not decided to wage another offensive against my peace loving breathing organs (or thankfully, any other vital parts).

I’ll go back in 3 months for another exciting spin on the old scanner, but for now, I’m enjoying my clean bill of health.

Many months ago, I promised I wouldn’t go all post-operatively wishy-washy (at least no more than I usually am) and weigh you down with an undue amount of life after lung surgery stories. I’m proud that I’ve been true to my word,  but on this occasion of the revelation of  my clean bill of health, I hope you will indulge me just a few observations gathered over the past five months.

I’m a lot less tolerant of tobacco smoke. There I said it! I’ve lived, loved, and laughed with smokers and it’s never bothered me. Now, I move like Michael Vick running from PETA when even a whiff of tobacco smoke invades my personal space.

I never fully realized the grip cancer has on our humanity until a couple of visits to Emory’s Winship Cancer institute. I was one of the younger folks waiting for consultation and/or treatment. I was a little bummed out until I saw someone clearly younger than me and I began to wonder how that person must have felt.

On a much more positive note…

As I alluded to a couple of weeks ago, much like Pete Parker after that spider bite, I’ve been infused with an almost super human dose of positivity that has pushed my already happy demeanor disgustingly off the charts — and it is entertaining the way this pisses off  those who find pleasure in negativity and cynicism.

Finally, as a result of doing the whole healthy eating thing and amping up the cardio  — like Jane Fonda jacked up on Tab —  to rehab what’s remains of my right lung, I dropped a couple of pounds and went down a couple of pant sizes. Hold on…random Rocky III reference “….he’s so trim, he looks like a middleweight!” Not hardly, but I am seeing scale numbers I haven’t seen since the Cosby show’s first run! (I could probably get one more 80s reference in this paragraph, but I’m Too Shy Shy and it’s time to Beat It!)

This concludes our special report on the ongoing war on andenocarcinoma. Please join us next week as we return to our regularly scheduled programming.

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One comment

  1. Pingback: I’m motivated « The Midlife Chronicles

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