Testicular Cancer | Chemo | Hot Women

Testicular Cancer | Chemo | Hot Women

I know a thing or two about watching a loved one endure chemo along with the spiritual aspects that take place in life.

This is just one reason why the religious in the church, the ungodly in government and sin in general seek to malign, slander and silence those who love the Truth. They know they need to repent, or stand firm with the Truth to the end but harden their hearts.

Nothing like dying to awaken one to the spirituality of life – few – however – get the message.

In this article with Fox News is God and Satan’s message.

Take your choice.

It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of every man; the living should take this to heart. (Ecclesiastes 7:2)

Bonus Wisdom: Note that the Fox News article on Testicular Cancer, while well written, has a spiritual battle hidden in plane site.

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Enumclaw.com : opinion that counts |  Friday, February 5, 2016
 

Article Reference

(foxnews.com)—Two weeks after my surgery, I sat down in a giant room full of old people and annoying beeps to start my first chemo cycle. The chemo treatment plan, a blend of bleomycin, etopocide, and cisplatin known as B.E.P. (not a Swedish house DJ collective), is both exceedingly effective and exactly as terrible as you’d expect of a medicinal cocktail that literally pumps liquid platinum through your veins. My treatment was administered in three three-week cycles: five days the first week, then one day in each of the next two weeks. Each treatment lasted five to six hours. and I would sit in a La-Z-Boy-type chair in a large open-plan treatment room alongside at least twenty other people being pumped full of similar chemo meds. I was hooked up to an I.V. drip in my own little semi-private stall, where I’d watch daytime talk shows on a tiny TV or surf the Internet (chemo bonus: free Wi-Fi!), counting down the minutes until I could go home. Every day I wondered if this all could have been avoided if I kept my cell phone further from my nuts (I was told no, but still…). At the end of each three-week cycle, my immune system, suppressed to the point that I competed with AIDS patients for lowest white blood cell count, I felt like shit. What’s the opposite of fun? Chemo. Chemo is the opposite of fun.

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