Don't cut me, dude

Surgery I too dislike it. 

There is a proposal on the table to improve my experience with the chest wound by possibly using artificial skin, to slow any progression toward blood vessels, and surgery that would pull muscle from my back or my stomach to cover it--though it's badly irradiated skin, and nothing may possibly take. I tend to lose at dice rolls lately, and I don't roll them if I don't have to do so.

I've met with the first surgeon, the one who would do surgical biopsies of the lumps that have reappeared on my chest. Still I wonder: why? Why biopsy when we know this is the cancer, bits of it throughout my system loding in my chest as opportune real estate--so why biopsy? I have no doubt of it, I don't think anyone else does either. 

I had a confab with the second surgeon, the one who would figure what to do with the wound--only he doesn't think there's much that can be done. The bad skin, the surgical risks, the probability of failure following effort, failure complicating yet another recovery period, He thinks not, and for the first time in the last couple of weeks, I'm pretty happy. 

I want to say this clearly: I will lose this battle with this cancer. It's not a treatable or removable cancer. What I' m doing is fighting for time, to enjoy what I have of life, to prove that you don't have to give up to be rational, reasonable and measured in the face of a killer. I won't give up, but it will eventually win. I just want it that eventuality to be some time away.

All along treatment, and wound amelioration, and hospital stays, and unexpected complications, I have kept this knowledge alive, even when people around me haven't wanted to hear it. I understand that; it's not my intention to spend a whole lot of time discussing it, but it's right, it's real, it's there. 

Dude, don't cut me! Help me live a little here!