The results of the test are back, and Goblin’s cancer was worse than we had hoped. There is a three-grade system of severity: “one” being the most common and least dangerous and “three” being really quite bad.

Goblin’s diagnosis was grade two.

Apparently, it makes a difference that the edges of the excised tumor were “clean,” meaning that the cancerous cells had not spread within the rather large patch of skin that was removed from her side. Still, according to the vet and my Internet sources, recurrence is quite possible, even likely. I will never rest easily again.

The good news for Goblin is that she gets a dietary overhaul, with cancer-fighting yummies like flaxseed oil and organic cottage cheese thrown in. Quite chipper after her successful surgery, she has been running around the house yelling, “Daddy says I’m in grade two!” and demanding a new lunchbox with the Powerpuff Girls on it. I tried to tell her that the Powerpuff Girls are so three years ago, but she is relentless.

I guess we’ll just take things one day at a time.

And I think that will look a little something like this:

This is it. (This is it.)
This is life, the one you get,
So go and have a ball.

One day at a time. (One day at a time.)
One day at a time.
One day at a time.

Note: Today, I am also guest-blogging for Faggoty-Ass Faggot, if you want to read something moderately more cheerful.