Eventually, Cancer Makes Liars of Us All

Our first liar: Me.

I've written before that I consider myself to have a high tolerance for pain. I need to revised that opinion, as I was clearly deluded. After two weeks of chronic abdominal pain, I've decided I have no tolerance of pain. At all. Pain sucks. Pain that you can't do anything about sucks even worse. And pain that you can't do anything about that leaves you lying on the couch doing half-assed impersonations of a Lamaze class is pretty much intolerable.

It would seem I have no tolerance for pain at all. 

Our second liar: My providers.

I realized things change quickly, and all my providers are doing their very best with a very limited basis for modeling, but if they can't figure out a solution to this pain problem, the prognostications that I have many months left, I guarantee you, are going to be proven wrong. Even worse, they've got to find a way to solve it without relying on painkillers. Everything I've read tells that when it comes to terminal illness, starting up on painkillers is as good a marker for the start of the final phase as anything.

We'll see on Thursday, but "many months" is feeling awfully optimistic at this point.

Our third liar: Taro Gomi

Everyone poops, my eye.