Oracle ✥ Artist ✥ Author ✥ Time Traveler

Gamma Knife Day: a transcendent experience

goddess-lightMay 30 was Gamma Knife Day. It’s the story of a lovely lady who was bringing up three very lovely…oh wait. Wrong story. Here we go, then.

I got up at 5:30 am to make my 7am appointment. Coffee enema, a gross green juice, and oatmeal. We walk in and they hand me an Ativan, chased with a second Ativan about 10 minutes later. Ativan puts people in their Happy Place, which is handy when people are screwing metal frames into your skull. They made me change into a hospital gown (I cheated and left clothes on under and laughed secretly about it THE WHOLE TIME) and climb onto a throne chair thing. Then they threw me a pre-warmed blanket, dimmed the lights, and told me to relax, they’d be back in an hour to attach the frame to my head.


I think I was Facebooking on my phone during this time. Ativans are fun.

Then a doctor guy came and a nurse person came and one held the frame while the other injected Lidocain into my face. Owowowowow. This is why the Ativan. Kahuna was there. I wanted him to stay. He assured everyone that he is good around blood and stuff, and he is! No fainting. They put the frame on kind of crooked but no one seemed concerned with this. Certainly I wasn’t concerned, because ATIVAN IS MY FRIEND MY BESTEST FRIEND.

Kahuna left. He had somewhere to go. I think it was important shopping for things we needed. At this point they have to help me walk, because Ativan. I tell the nurse person I can pee by myself thank you.

More Facebooking. Also Instagramming (friend me?). I thought I would remember this but nope.

CT scan time! This is what they used to call a CAT scan, and then the internet happened:


To avoid confusion (you can’t fight with cats and expect to win), they renamed CAT scan to CT. Well played, cats. Pretty soon we won’t be catatonic or have categories. I see what you’re doing there.

So, yeah. A CT scan of my head. They wheel me (wheeeeeee!) to a place with machines and do the thing, then wheel me back (wheeee!). I think I told the nurse person Beverly that more than 300 people were sending me healing and prayers and energy and stuff. Beverly acted suitably impressed.

More waiting while the physics people figure out the zappage plan. The bathroom again. Then they said it was Gamma Knife time. But wait! Where is Kahuna?!? I texted him. Treatment is ready now. It will take 65 minutes.

Oops. He wasn’t there. That’s okay. I had my new friend Ativan plus Beverly and all of Facebook and 300 healer people. Sooo not alone.

The throne chair thing tilts back and becomes a bed thing. At this point it’s useless trying to sit up. They wheel me into a different room, the one with the Gamma Knife in it. Gamma Knife looks like a big white donut with a bed thing attached. I laid on the bed thing. The frame screwed into my head slides into a metal frame thing on the bed thing. They cranked up the bed frame until I said it was too uncomfortable. That’s the right position. They gave me a towel to bunch up around the back of my neck. “Hold the two ends and pull to help hold your head up.” Seriously?

The music started. New Agey woo woo trance music. I’m lying with my head in a vice, pulling on two ends of a towel.

I don’t remember what happened next.

Except this. I went somewhere while I lay on that table for 65 minutes with my Frankenstein head inside a donut. Somewhere deep, true, and lasting. You were there, and you, and you! I felt you. All of you. All of Facebook, all 300 healer folk, all of you. You were right there. I went to Source. Bright bold lights. Strength. Sureness. Back to the beginning.

Two of the tumors were in my frontal lobes. Among other things, this area of the brain controls personality. For weeks I felt pressure there, not physical pressure but the sense of pressure. Pressure to be someone I am not. Pressure to look deep into my shadows. Pressure to become a child-self. Pressure. The pressure is gone now. I feel so much lighter. Like a giant finger pressed a reset button.

Ta da!

Healing is going well. There is a healthy risk of brain swelling and seizures. Most people take steroids for this. I take Boswellia. Steroids reduce immune response and that’s not a good thing for The Three Tumor Bears in my abdomen, so Boswellia it is (cool fact: Boswellia is another name for Frankincense). All that Ativan had me seeing double but I was able to go home and nap and watch 3 episodes of Battlestar Galactica with Kahuna. The next day was a Rest Day but the day after that felt pretty normal. Normal meaning The Cancer Normal, which isn’t really normal at all.

The Tired is supposed to happen in about two weeks. Tiredness that laughs in the face of naps. I am not sure if this happened the last time I had Gamma Knife, but Kahuna says it did. He might remember better than I do. I refuse to accept The Tired, however, and scoff at it right now. Hear me! I am openly scoffing. Take that, Tired! See if I let you in to play. NOT.


If you were one of The Three Hundred, my undying thanks. You made a difference. Something shifted in me that day. You were a part of it. We are forever linked, you and me. One heart to another. And now I shall have some pie.


Join the conversation and post a comment.

  1. Mattie Wheeler

    I sang all morning. You are so in my heart. Yay healing!

  2. melissa

    Pie is a good response, a happy, nurturing response. So happy it went well Talyaa. I scoff at tiredness on your behalf.

  3. Diane

    I love this story. What you experienced helps me to understand what I experienced when I sent you Reiki. Delicious positive goodness. Now let us all have a nice piece of pie.

  4. Yeshe ma

    WOW – what a day… You are some kinda trooper, warrior woman… I admire your strength and courage and your ability to relate the whole thing ~ rough and not as rough moments. Thank you for sharing with us. Each day I send you healing light and LOVE… Big LOVE to you and to your dear partner, Kahuna… Goddess bless… <3

  5. Shawn Jezerinac

    I know why Dave loves you so. You are delightful.

Talk To Me!