Yep, it's the 12th of the month -- again!!!
The number twelve is on (what's left of) my mind today, because I'm now twenty-six months post-diagnosis, which is twelve months past the "optomistic" prognosis of fourteen months that I was told to expect.
If I were a bottle of milk this far past my expiration date I'd be pretty darn gross. Luckily, except for a touch of the flu I feel very much alive and not at all sour.