It is a well known fact that each of us will someday take off on our last flight. Some of us know beforehand that this is it, but most of us don't. It is now apparent that my last flight was September 11, 2012. That morning, we took off from Port Aransas for home after my annual birthday weekend at Mustang Beach. After that weekend, I had a cold that went to bronchitis to pneumonia in 5 days. I was still recovering from that at Gulf Shores, and seemed completely recovered before we went to NYC the last week of Oct. By the first of Dec, the bronchitis was coming back and was a full fledged pneumonia by Christmas. I entered the Hospital on New Year's Eve, unable to breathe. When they discovered that this was not a typical pneumonia, they began exploring for other causes. Within the 1.5l of fluid they drained from my left side, they found cancer cells. I was released from the hospital on Jan 20, after many more tests had confirmed the type and extent of the tumor. I am now tied to an oxygen line and scheduled to start therapy next week. So my flying days are over. It was a great ride for 13 years, accumulating 900 hours mostly in the trusty Mouse. We visited 27 states, made many new, good friends and saw parts of this country in ways few people get to see them. My only regret is that we didn't have a couple more years or more active years so that I could have made 1000 hours and gotten closer to 48 states. But we are so thankful for what we did accomplish.