I found $5 on the ground yesterday. I bought two lotto tickets with it. Aye, there's my luck; no winnings.

Joe and I took Brogan to the oncologist on Monday. My stomach was in knots all weekend over it. One minute I was anticipating the worst, planning for it, shaking and crying, and the next minute I'd be optimistic and certain that Brogan would be strong enough to pull through. The latter was especially true when I'd look at him, as normal as ever, wanting nothing more than to play fetch or wrestle Jake or eat my dinner for me.

Anyway. The oncologist didn't find anything more in Brogan's mouth, no more obvious physical manifestations of melanoma. That's good. He then took two x-rays, one of Brogan's chest and another of his right lymph node; it was swollen, and while the vet thought that it was most likely because of the surgery he wanted to check and make sure. His initial read of the xray results was that everything looked normal - he'd have the pathologist/radiologist look at them to double check, and call us in 48 hours.

So we were given a half-hour talk about melanoma and how it works and what the various options are. Brogan has 'low-grade' melanoma, which is the best of the worst, really. The problem is that the lump that was removed had melanoma going into it's base, meaning that it's still on his lip. Thus, the next step in trying to fix Mr Brogan is cutting off more of his lip, and hopefully this time all of the melanoma will be removed.

Unfortunately, the pathologist saw some sort of dark pigmentation on Brogan's lymph node. The oncologist doesn't suspect that the melanoma has metastasized, but to be on the safe side he recommends that that lymph node come out too.

Bit by bit poor Brogan is getting cut apart.

So, one bit of lip and one lymph node later, hopefully all the melanoma will be gone and the last thing Joe and I will have to decide is whether or not we're going to somehow, by some miracle, cough up the money for this way-too-expensive vaccine, or just hope for the best.

I'm still optimistic. Scared, but optimistic.

Aye. It's hard to convince myself to sit at the computer and write here. I haven't done sketches for any work either because the thought of sitting up in this corner at the computer isn't appetizing at all. I've replaced night-blog-writing-time with reading. So many books to read.

I've not been myself in a while now. In part, I blame this on quitting smoking. My world was thrown upside down. What a strange process. On one hand, it wasn't so hard at all; the cravings were shitty, but they were short, and the bad ones only lasted about a week. Now they're gone completely. The only draw to cigarettes I have left stem from "I wonder, if I start smoking, will I go back to normal? Will my patience come back? Will this god-awful fecking appetite go away?" Then I remember how horrid they smell, and what an awful headrush I'll get if I take so much as one drag, and the desire is choked.

But on the other hand, it's been intense. At times I feel like I don't know myself at all. I've become impatient, quick-tempered, and I have an appetite (in particular, a sweet-tooth I've inherited from my dad) that goes through the roof. It's awful awful awful awful, all of it. I loathe this person I've become. I loathe how I have this new found need to rush through everything, to constantly be go-go-go-go-go. I can't sit still. I can't just sit and enjoy things. What is this? Where did it come from? How the hell do I make it go away? This is driving me insane. The appetite, worst of all. I've not gained weight, but that's mostly because I've been running and walking and cycling more than ever before. If I stop doing that, it'll hit me like a brick, unless I change my eating habits.

And my attitude on life, on living, needs an adjustment.

I simply loathe this person. This is the reason I want to go back to smoking - not because I miss it, or crave nicotine. I don't miss any of it, not a bit. I just wonder, will old Kaetlyn come back if I do? Or, how the hell do I bring her back without it?

Today I felt a bit more like myself. More than I have in a while, anyway. So, we'll see.

Tomorrow's a new day.