Terminal

I saw a new oncologist yesterday, who was respectful and reviewed my information and images. And I learned something new. As it turns out, endometrial cancer is terminal. And if that is what this stuff is, growing inside of me, I have about a year to live if I do nothing. If I do one or two of the treatments offered to me, I MIGHT have more time, but it seems that most of the time would be spent going from appointment to appointment, waiting for results, having my hopes raised and then having them dashed. I didn't realize there was no cure for this kind of cancer. 

There is still another CT scan to have, so we can see if the tumors have shrunk since I've gotten away from the mold, and then a biopsy to check and make sure this is endometrial cancer. If not, there might be more hope. If so, I still don't want to endure the agony of the treatment. I mean, to what end? 

That's the latest news from here. No use blathering about with my circular unenlightened thoughts. I'm a human being who has bad news. In the back of my mind I kept some hope alive. I don't feel hopeful today.