Sandbox

My head is spinning, too much information, too many impending appointments in too many different places. My tumor is an inch big... how can it not be there last year and then be a fucking inch big? I thought cancer was a pea, not a heap, not a big gob. And it's not playing nice, my tumor really does have bad manners, it has aggressive nuclei or some such nonsense, it's Stage 2 at least, while I was definitely aiming for a 1. My tumor is the kid in the sandbox that keeps whacking the other kids, the nice kids, the cute kids, in the head with a dump truck. You know that kid, the one who's parents are so busy bragging about how he knows his alphabet already, is gifted, and on the Ivy League fast-track, that they never notice him whacking the other kids with the dump truck and even if they did, that sweet, quiet kid must have started it. My tumor needed a better pre-school teacher, but at least I'm a better parent than dump truck kids' are. I don't think this behavior should be tolerated, i really don't.