Poetrooper returns in time for the 2018 elections

If you’ve been wondering where ol’ Poe has been for the past eight months, you should know that I’ve been in the fight of my life against the dreaded Big C. Last November I learned that I had a 14cm by 14.3cm tumor growing in the back of my throat. In December I surrendered my body and my life to the somewhat less than tender ministrations of a medical oncologist and a radiation oncologist. Together they made my existence one of pure misery which I would not wish upon my worst enemy. Well, maybe John Kerry or Jane Fonda; yeah, them for sure.

Because this sort of tumor is very difficult to treat and has a low success rate, they used the big guns, resulting in a badly battered Poe. They first insisted in pulling all my healthy bottom teeth as the intense radiation regimen would destroy them; this meant a liquid-only diet. Just a few radiation sessions destroyed my ability to swallow resulting in a seventy pound weight loss and the emplacement of a feeding tube in my belly. All the while the medical oncology team was pumping ol ’Poe full of poisonous concoctions targeted at the tumor which left me almost constantly nauseated and totally repulsed by the sight, smell or even thought of any sort of food.

Why am I telling you all this? Because I want you to know that throughout this ordeal I checked in and read TAH on all but my very worst days. Like some drooling, scrawny, hairless troll, I was lurking here, able to read but totally unable to formulate a cohesive comment of my own. But I was constantly invigorated by the often humorous, sometimes caustic, frequently informative comments of all my TAH friends and even those frequent critics of my writings. You guys made me smile when nothing else could, so I credit TAH with being a crucial part of my ability to endure the misery the medics were inflicting on me. You helped me pull through it, to keep slogging “all the way” to the top of that hill, and today I learned I had made it: the ENT surgeon who managed my care told me I’m out of the woods; the oncologists have killed that deadly tumor, thankfully without killing me. And lest I forget, I will never be able to repay my debt to the lovely Miz Poe who has been my stalwart, uncomplaining nurse and companion throughout this most miserable period of our fifty years together. I think maybe she’s a keeper.

So now it’s time to rehab and the best way for me to do that is get back up on my soapbox and start pontificating here and at my original writing home, American Thinker. Luckily for me there is an election coming and the Democrats are setting themselves up as juicy targets for a passel of ol’ Poe’s potshots. Dinging Dems with words is like a video game for me. Caution: You may need to bear with me for a while as I may be a bit fuzzy sometimes due to the effects of the chemo and radiation, but those are fading with every passing day. Actually, fuzzy writing may be entirely in order for a political party whose mass of followers thinking seems pretty fuzzy itself.

Damn it feels good to be back. I’m looking forward to stirring up the pot