Really, I feel fine!
A terminal diagnosis turns you into a part-ghost. The spectre of your absence shadows you like a bad private investigator-- it's always visible and not especially discrete. Walk in a room and the ghost part of you reminds everyone of their own mortality, and god knows no one wants to think about that. Your double nature discomfits them, and you find people not quite willing to look you in the eye, or sort of sliding away as if you and they are both magnetized. If you ever nee
Ooph
Ooph. It sounds just like the noise my fat old cat used to make when he landed on the floor after jumping from much too great a height. Or what you might say at the end of a shitty day at work while you clink beer steins with a friend. It's also the beginning of "oophorectomy," which sounds suspiciously like a procedure performed by the Swedish Chef. But it's not. It's when they take out your ovaries and fallopian tubes in the hopes that less estrogen will slow down your canc
