#nikesweats

As of late, I have been trying to Pollyanna the shit out of this cancer. If you don't know Pollyanna, it's an old 1960's Hayley Mills movie, where she goes to a bitter town, and cheers everyone up. You know what, go home, right now, and rent it. It'll give you the warm fuzzies in a way only the 1960's could do. It was a simpler time.

Anyway, yesterday, during my staging laparoscopy, while getting my initial set of vitals and IV inserted, I was accidentally mistaken for an athlete. I was told, and I will repeat this verbatim, "you have the pulse of an athlete". Hell. Yes. Highlight of my day. We don't need to tell him I got winded climbing a flight of stairs, all we need to know is that yes people, I have the pulse of an athlete. I will be taking Nike endorsements as of now.

Back to the staging laparoscopy. What is that you ask? Let me fill you in on all the gory details. What they do, is they take your original selfie game, and up it, like a 1000. They put me to sleep, made two small incisions on my stomach, stuck a camera inside, and took a bunch of pictures. I'm not going to lie, they look pretty good. Came back clean. No tumors on the outside of the stomach, seems pretty localized, and now we're just waiting for cytology reports.