Forgetting Is Good
Almost forgot that Wednesday was the seventh anniversary of getting my prostate nuked. One hundred fifty-three little seeds getting injected up there to kill cells that were trying to kill me. While there wasn’t much to say on that day (yay ‘conscious sedation’) the posts immediately following are still up in the archives. Going to assume the forgetfulness isn’t just a sign of aging but of moving on. Seven years without a hint of life out of the evil little mutants is a good thing, and I have no need to dwell on the dead.