I may not post anymore today because my pancreas is hurting again. There is just sort of a dull pain on and off in my pancreatic area. This happens from time to time, and I generally piss and moan about it to anyone who will listen.
It has always been my suspicion that I will die of pancreatic cancer, a hideous and unyielding disease. I have charged Cousin Sheila, WHO WE ARE VERY PROUD OF, and who is in med school, with finding a cure for the pancreatic cancer and possibly saving the life of her beloved cousin. [But NO PRESSURE Sheila. I know you are under enough stress planning your wedding and keeping your grades up. You can worry about a cure for cancer later.]
Our grandfather, Cliff, died in his forties of some mysterious, undiagnosed illness. They called it Disease X on his death certificate, but my psychic powers, which tend to be unfortunately pretty accurate, tell me that it was, in actuality, the pancreatic cancer. Anyhoo, the propensity for pancreatic cancer is genetic, people, and this is the sort of shit lottery SB wins.
I have accepted that I will likely get the pancreatic cancer, along with the other good genetic shit I have inherited, such as a propensity to handle liquor like my Native American forbearers, my round, fat Indian face, a ridiculously poor work ethic, and clinical depression.
Right now, I'm just trying to enjoy life some before the shit goes down. It could be any time, now that I have hit forty. It will likely spread quickly, due to my enlarged omentum.
If there is a sale on sympathy cards, you might want to put one back, the Moms is going to need a lot of support when I become one of the living-challenged.
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