Oracle ✥ Artist ✥ Author ✥ Time Traveler

Brain Surgery One Week Report

This is my brain. On magic.

This is my brain. On magic.

My laser brain ablation surgery to take care of a 3-4 cm recurrent metastatic melanoma brain tumor was on February 3, 2015. This post is one of a series of updates that I wrote in the days following, which now I I finally have some energy/motivation to post. Some of you have been kindly inquiring as to my status, which I so appreciate!


For days after my surgery, I was half convinced I’d entered a new world. For weeks I had wanted it to be a new world. I had wanted to cross a magical surgical threshold and come out the other side, irrevocably altered. Better. More magical.

For awhile, I thought I had failed.

Now, I see I have not. Better. More magical. Yes. Okay. In ways I don’t yet understand.

Example: the mercury retrograde thing is maybe not such a big thing. Life is meant to ride in on waves. We are meant to learn to surf them. I feel more powerful when I drop into my body’s sensations than when I rely on external sources to feel how big I am.

I am so so so glad it doesn’t snow where I live. I’m sorry (a little) about YOUR snow, if you have any and you tire of it. But after nearly two decades of shoveling, I am deeply content to see green trees and blue skies out my window.

Oh. I haven’t been outside of our apartment since the day we came home from the hospital. It’s just fine in here. I have what I need.

At night I lie in my bed and feel the building move. Not far and not often. More like an occasional rumble and sway. I keep thinking it’s earthquakes, but that seems far fetched. Still! Something wonderful is happening, and I am witness to this majesty! Lottery winner!

In the evenings now I hear people. We live on the third floor of an apartment building. There are people all around. Somewhere. I never used to hear them. Now I do. Rumbling. Footsteps. Muffled voices. I am never alone. Superpower!

There are still staples in my head. They’re made of titanium. This sounds special to me, tiny squared-off silver tiaras woven into my scalp. Evidence of my magnificence.

Tomorrow we have to get up very early (8 hours before my usual slothful rising time) and drive to LA again to see doctors. This time it’s for Gamma Knife radiation to one of the other tumors in my brain (tumor #1 was blasted with surgical laser heat, tumor #2 is getting a radiation bath, and tumor #3 is so small and cute that they’re just going to watch it for now).

I’ve had Gamma Knife twice already, in 2012 and 2013. They screw a metal frame to your head so they can keep your head quite still during the radiation part. I’m in favor of that. I’m trying not to think about it much. Tomorrow’s doctor actually sedates patients prior to the head frame torture, so I’m not too worried. If I can handle last week’s robotic brain stabbing, I can handle tomorrow’s sedated screws in my head.

After tomorrow I’ll likely feel sort of okay for a week or two and then I will probably get very very tired. The tired could last months. Been down this road before. When I had Gamma Knife in 2013 I was barely functional for awhile. I’m starting to feel a little better after my surgery — today I made my breakfast! and washed some dishes! and folded a small load of laundry! — but it could be weeks or months before I feel good again.

The thing, I tell myself, is to relax my awareness into what IS.

Brain surgery is perfect for this. We have pulses in our fingers! Our feet vibrate! Trees hum! Socks tell stories!

For about four years, I’ve wanted to return to living in what I think of as a world of magic. I had no idea it would take science to bring me there again. Right? What’s that about? So awesome!

How did we let “higher” and “bigger” mean the same thing as “better”?

My life is pretty small. I don’t go out. I don’t have TV. I don’t read news. I don’t put much of my energy into things that feel less than yummy when I think about them, because I don’t choose to make time for that.

So I sink deeper into myself and into this glorious world and feel more alive and more connected as a result. I feel like I’ve discovered something I was looking for. Don’t yet know what if anything to do with this other than to keep letting it unfold.

Life is a gift. I believe it’s a gift.

Thanks again to all of you for sending love and ethereal yumminess my way. You make a difference. Please keep it up. I feel like we are doing this together.

Much love, as always.

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