Nothing but talk

My brand of speech therapy seems to be working: reciting Italian words and singing. My playlist is mostly hits from the 80s since those are the only songs I remember all the words to. Plus, "Hungry Like the Wolf" has the added bonus of annoying James.

I've finally gotten the keys to my new apartment. For those of you who aren't aware of the long saga of the downtown loft, I've been waiting since May to move into a bare bones but huge loft around the corner from Cole's in Downtown L.A. I'm moving all my stuff out of Koreatown this Saturday. It sucks that when people found out I had cancer, there were all these offers to run errands, cheer-up, etc. But when it comes time to move... nothing. It's right up there with driving someone to the airport as the least favorite favors to perform in Los Angeles. But I guess moving the same weekend as Yom Kippur and the USC vs. Stanford game wasn't the best decision. C'est la vie.

Tomorrow is my post-op appointment with the Tumor Board. I guess they have to decide if I should get radiation treatment. I hope not. The swelling in my tongue is getting much better, and the stitches in my mouth and arm are quickly dissolving and falling off. I just can't wait to have a chili burger already.