Now they are talking BRAIN SURGERY.
The human organism has an amazing capacity to quickly integrate astounding news and to suddenly embrace it as the new reality. Or maybe this is just me?
One minute, I’m not having brain surgery. (“No way in hell” was how it sounded in my head)
The next minute, I’m calmly weighing the many benefits of brain surgery. I’m already over and past my imagination-driven hyperfreakout about Frankenstein staples and shaved heads and hospital rooms.
(sidenote: it’s surreal to hear one’s doctor wax eloquently about the benefits of brain surgery. YOUR brain)
So we don’t know for sure, but so far 2 out of 3 doctors have said surgery is the way to go.
We thought these were new tumors. They’re not. They grew from previously radiated tumors, which means these bad boys survived being zapped and are now Super Tumors that laugh at radiation and then flip you the bird. Like cockroaches that eat cans of Raid for dinner.
So the only way to deal with this thing growing in my brain is to cut it out. It’s a good candidate for this because it’s right behind my left eye, easy to get to without much brain to dig through first.
(Seriously, how did the first brain surgeons have the courage to cut into someone’s LIVING BRAIN?)
Oh, and I found out today that if I have a seizure because of this tumor – which is a very real possibility – then I’ll probably never drive again.
So all this news is, understandably, pretty upsetting. I’m dealing with it by continuing to narrow my focus and just deal with what’s in front of me – the next juice, the next pill. I don’t think about next week or next month except with the expectation that I’ll be here to see it. It’s an interesting way to experience life. I think children live this way.
My beloved bears the heaviest load. He is a contingency thinker, always considering possibilities and consequences of any choice or action. So I imagine he’s thought about all the possibilities from brain surgery. That probably doesn’t look pretty. I’m thinking it looks pretty bleak.
He also makes all the phone calls and wades through miles of red tape to get to the right department or right person or right answer. Navigating the health care system is not for the faint of heart. I might rant separately about that later.
Please, please, continue sending love. I’m so calm about this because I haven’t let myself think about it. One thing at a time, I tell myself. But I can use good thoughts and well wishes and any other magic you have.
And please, please, send love or reach out to my beloved. Circle the wagons around us. We need you.