This is in case you stumble here and it's not immediately known what you find yourself reading; I wanted to warn you, in case you're in a place right now that makes it unhealthy for you to read it.∞
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I came home tonight and Helen recounted their phone exchange with the company that manages the 401K Helen has through work. While it'd been a couple of hours since the exchange, the memory still raised their ire.
I've dove into work. Which isn't a surprise. I've done that before. Steered toward a focus because it helps, because it's something I can largely control. And I need that feeling of stability. The third day after Helen told me about their diagnosis, it was easier. Largely because there's little else to talk about; that we're willing to go into when opportunity affords.
Tonight's outing was much needed. It was wonderful. For a few hours, there was no terminal, no fatal, no time running out.
Acquiescing to a biopsy was the only way to get the doctor to let up after they told them they weren't interested in hearing treatment options. Because there aren't any that would make it worth it. Something that, from Helen's telling, floors the doc. Helen's 'No,' not really being respected isn't exactly a new phenom. It's rarer, but every now and then it shows up, lest Helen forget.