Here we go again

Sooooo, a while ago, Vic had this "thing" on his tongue (underside, on the right). He went to his doctor, who said, "Meh, it's nothing." Gave him some stuff for the pain, pain went away. Pain came back. Doctor said, "Meh, it's nothing." Did some other stuff, pain went away. Pain came back. This went on for a few months, pain always came back. Doctor said, "Let's do a biopsy. It's not cancer, but let's make sure to rule that out." We did that last week and scheduled a follow-up for next week.

What's that you say? "Sure would like to see a picture of that biopsy!" Your wish is my command:

Yesterday, doctor called. "Can we see you tomorrow?" Us, to each other: [side-eye] "That can't be good. Nothing good ever comes of 'Can we see you tomorrow?'"

Today, we saw doctor. Guess what he said? That's right. "It's cancer."

So. We don't know a lot right now, but here's what we do know.

• It's a squamous cell carcinoma (like the last one--but it's not a recurrence of that).
• It doesn't seem too serious (although it will kill him if he doesn't do something about it).
• There is treatment for it (which could be "simple" or ... less "simple," depending on the outcome of the next steps).

And here are next steps:

• Get a PET scan. This will show where cancer cells are hiding. Hoping to have this done next Wednesday (May 15) or the following Wednesday.
• See a fancy schmancy head and neck guy in Denver. (Dr. John Song—anybody have any experience with him?)
• Depending on what the PET scan shows, Vic could have surgery on his tongue, or on his tongue and his neck (the most likely combo.) They then send "stuff" (the medical term) to pathology. Then the next step depends on the path results.
• Could be that they get it all. No more treatment. Life goes on.
• Could be that they don't get it all, and they need to do some follow-up treatment—some immunotherapy (which is the latest thing and is having some pretty interesting results), or perhaps chemo and radiation.

And that is actually the sugar-coated version. Surgery for someone with his heart condition is always a risk. He may have already met his lifetime quota for chemo and radiation. (who knew there was a quota?) And even if he didn't ... well ... his last chemo and radiation wasn't exactly a walk in the park, so he's not really interested in taking another hike.

This has been a shit year, for those of you keeping score. My stepbrother passed away in January at the ripe old age of 57. (Cancer, of course. Fucking cancer.) Vic was on death's doorstep with pneumonia. My mom broke her arm and had some rocky weeks where her early-stage dementia was getting the better of her. The day she had surgery for her arm, my dad passed away. Things were just starting to look up and I started thinking that maybe the rest of 2019 wouldn't be so bad. That's what I get for being optimistic.

Just kidding—you know me. Glass half full. So as always, we are trying to remain positive and strong in the face of [whisper] the cancer [whisper]. But all thoughts, prayers, healing energy, dog, cat, baby and cute kid pictures are welcome.