Billy Bob Drennan is One Hurtin Cowpoke

Oh, but our Adventurer Billy Bob is a hurtin' cowpoke.

It's late afternoon, and we're back in the mountains--blessedly HOME.

But poor ol Bill is only beginning to feel what hit him.

He has pretty good drugs (thanks for the drug-specific prayers from K.G.!), but they barely touch the pain he is in. I mean, they TOLD him it would hurt like this, but there is such a difference between "knowing it's going to hurt" and "KNOWING IT HURTS", and right now, he is FULL OF KNOWLEDGE, lying on his bed trying to sleep and not to move.

The ride home (almost 3 hours) involved stopping every 20 minutes at restrooms for him, and even then, he could barely stand the feeling of "I Am Going To Scream If Anyone is In That Restroom When I Get There!"

His mood is pretty good, but our conversations remain pretty much superficial on the subject of his condition--he just doesn't want to talk about it much--so I try to slip in GOOD things I've found in my 23-hours-a-day of google research on bladder cancer. (23 hours is only a slight exaggeration).

Our Angels-in-Disguise neighbors G. and J. are bringing us dinner tonight, figuring we wouldn't want to deal with cooking after the experience we've just survived. Ohhhhhhhhh, what a blessing! I feel bad taking such a gift, knowing how much trouble and expense it is, but at the same time, we are practically kneeling in gratitude for such thoughtfulness and for hitting the nail so completely on the head. Indeed, we WOULDN'T have wanted to deal with grocery shopping and cooking tonight.

Friends are the whole deal. What an understatement that is.

More soon.
love
Bethie