Poops

We didn't make it into the trial. There were more than 50 applications for the trial before 7:15 on Friday morning. We were the only ones submitted from Madison, but of course, we're an hour behind the East Coast, so who knows what number we were in line. There were only 19 spots. We just thought we'd be one of those 19, especially since we were on such a winning streak.

The good news: we are investigating other avenues regarding the trial drug. We still have a traditional chemotherapy we can use. And there are other trials available.

We are not discouraged.

Here's the way I figure it: those 19 people who are accepted into the trial are not Italian. They do not have the same kind of connections that we do. As my father-in-law says, there are those that are Italian and those that want to be Italian. Good thing Jim isn't Irish or we'd hand him a glass of Guinness and say "It's healing in a glass! Drink up!" (Or at the very least, drink this Jameson and afterward you won't care that you didn't get into the trial!)

For 12 years I've lamented about the fact that I voluntraily set myself up for a lifetime of people saying "First name Marven, last name Tano?" Now it's payoff time, baby.

I'm not Italian, I'm Irish (see above), but if we don't get that drug, do you think someone will find a horse head in their bed?