Five years ago I was sitting in my dentist's chair when his hygienist found a lump on my hard palate. The lump, known as Cap'n Lumpy after that, turned out to be a rare-ish form of minor salivary gland cancer called polymorphous low-grade adenocarcinoma.
It started a year-long freakout on my part, most of which is documented on this here blog, that culminated in my wearing a cool plastic-and-metal prosthetic to replace the chunk of my mouth that a surgeon removed.
I'm not sure how I feel about this, so I'm gonna just mark this lumpiversary and leave it be. I have the latest set of scans (CT and MRI) coming up week after next. I'm not sure how I feel about that, either. Maybe it'll be easier once I transition to once-a-year rather than once-every-six-months scanning; maybe it'll be a whole new kind of hell. We'll see.
In other news, Keith is gone. I don't know the details, having been on vacation this last two weeks, but he's been relieved of his duties at Sunnydale and has gone back to the pit that spawned him. It probably had something to do with a patient decompensating to the point that she had to be intubated on his watch, with nobody but him being aware of it. I don't know. All I know for sure is that I can work now without having to worry about somebody else's patients as well as my own.
So. One okay thing, one good thing. Not a bad way to start off the new year.