Ahh, man, fuck cancer: I mean, seriously, fuck off, cancer

Thing is, I been pissing blood. It’s stopped now, but my urine looked like pinot noir. No pain, so there was nothing to distract me from the sight of it, and I can report to you that it looks really, really weird.

I got two doctors who think there’s a reasonable chance it’s a presenting symptom for cancer. So I’ve contributed a whole lot of blood and urine for some lab to take a look at in the next week. I’m getting ultrasounds on Monday.

So life’s on hold until late next week. Because that’s when I should know. I actually don’t think it is cancer, because there are other possible explanations and the odds are against it. But I know that I wouldn’t actually know, and my assessment of the odds is close to worthless. And even having to worry and wait is pretty shitty.

I’ve been a bit weary the last couple of days, because this has been a year of this sort of shit. My mother died, my father’s losing his marbles and is now in a dementia ward, the woman I loved done left me, and … Oh, that’ll do for now; I got enough for a blues.

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