New Coordinates Locked In

After much research and soul searching, I'm already 99% sure of the path I will choose for Cole during our oncology meeting Monday:  benign neglect.  That's right, nothing.  Everything I've read regarding the newest offered chemo protocol points to a 4-6 more months of life.  Miserable life, all for my benefit, not Cole's. Instead of septic infections induced by low blood counts, and nausea, we're going to welcome Mr. Cancer in.  He's been waiting almost a year.  I've had a full day off to hatch a plan (life is generous that way)... His arrival has been forfeited beyond it's term.  We shall now do a 180' and roll out a very, very, very long red carpet.
There comes a time when the obstinance to fight becomes a futile waste of precious time.  
Rather than be attempting to conquer another trail, we're repositioning  to make every moment comfortable. 

                            (Record cold last night, this is Alabama, not Alaska!)

                                 (Gardening with Mum has become a cushy job)

                              (Previously unaccepted begging is encouraged)
To outsiders, he's just a frigging dog.  To me, he's my furry guru, my best friend, my constant companion.  To let him down at this point would be criminal.  We're doing this:  he's getting an armed escort to that damned Rainbow Bridge. 

Here's hoping Cancer trips on the two miles of carpet I laid.  Come and get us ya b@$%!.  Yes, this is as close to "acceptance' as I can sanely get.
All this crap better make me a better person.  

PS Since I purposefully live in the boonies, it's my own fault if I feel alone at times. Thank you for being my sounding board.