I feel fine. I just have a touch of stage four cancer.

When people ask, as they do in passing, "How are you?" I want to answer, "I have cancer, how are you?"

But I don't. I just say, "Fine."

Still, I wonder if my cats will outlive me.

So on Tuesday a surgeon will go where no man or woman has gone before: deep into the bowels of my bowels, with a knife.

The adventure continues.