Christmas for the Brain Damaged - The Last One - (Promise)

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I thought that since 2012 is almost over and it does appear I'm going to live on I should record how I have spent the last two holiday seasons with severe impairments.  I am resolved to undergoing whatever procedure is available.  2013 will be a little different and, hopefully so will I!  I have been focused on one thing only for the last 20 months, one goal.  Over a year ago I ceased taking all medications.  Over a year ago I started working out daily.  My quality of life bites - hard!  Every day brings new challenges and new chances for me to find humor in every silly situation I find myself in.

My wonderful in-laws have included me (no doubt my spouse and son were really the invitees, I just get invited because like the mighty cockroach,  I refuse to die! That and Sean and I don't believe in divorce.) in all their holiday doins' which are pretty special.(Let's face facts:  Even mute I'm more entertaining than my spouse.  I might knock something or someone over, that's always good for a chuckle.)  Or I run into people who last saw me the 10 days or so before I had a grapefruit sized tumor removed from my brain.  It does explain a lot, however...

I have been appreciative to all the O'Reilly's for all their love and support (and food!) so I am planning a more normal winter in 2013.  I saw how much my son needs me this year.  My favorite brother-in-law said to me, "Your recovery is not a race."  He's probably right that was definitely my mind-set in the first year
 Now I feel great all the time and I see everything and everyone a little differently.  My patient spouse is running out of patience.  My son is a tween!  A gangly tween!  So I feel that time is a precious commodity and I have none.  So let's get this recovery show on the road!  Like yesterday!

I'm going to pick up my "Paycheck" at "The Adjustment Bureau" if I can recall "The Source Code" in "30 Minutes Or Less"

Hello Fellow Travelers!

Among the many situations that since 2011 demanded my attention, some can certainly be described as "entertainment" are, in fact, a lot of films I check off in my mind (or write off as the case may be) as "high stress" movies.  There are a lot of them.  In "high stress" movies the protagonist is given an impossible set of circumstances and then he/she+Possible Partner spend the 90+ remaining minutes being chased or chasing something or someone.  I've always thought of them as "chase" movies and tolerated others who find watching artificial stress entertaining.  I do not,  I never did find "Stress Movies" entertaining, and since I was spun around repeatedly by God (or someone) I not only find them simple and a waste of my strength these contemporary and extremely predictable films give me, the cancer survivor, a whole new level of discomfort and understanding.

It's not remotely entertaining.  Why would anyone choose to spend $10 bucks and, more importantly, spend 2 hours actually paying attention to completely artificial stress that some completely invented character is experiencing?  Not your mom, not your cousin, not a friend, someone completely made up.  Isn't life stressful enough?  We need to pay babysitters and buy popcorn and sit on very used seats for this?  That's two hours of your life you'll never get back either.  The commercial says, "If you're not whitening, you're yellowing", they are talking about teeth but it's just as true about entertainment.  If you are going to see a film and you not only don't learn anything, it costs you something,(time, money, thought, whatever)it's no longer entertaining.

I used to tolerate people around me watching characters in highly stressful situations and calling it entertainment.  Now if I am forced to watch a Stress Movie, I worry about how many broken bones the made-up characters inflict on each other in the imaginary story.  Since brain cancer and surgery lots of falling and breaking of bones have given me a unique perspective on the expected outcome of most films of the "high stress" genre.   Every time Matt Damon walks towards the screen with a fire or explosion at  his back (it does seem like Mr. Damon or Mr. Affleck are in a lot of these"stress fests".  And  what about that English guy or maybe he's Scottish?  James McAvoy, he runs around a lot, chases his own tail plenty!) I now worry a little that he might explode or get too close to that fire because he's walking away from them and not watching them closely, like any normal person would.  I rarely criticize anything that remotely resembles entertainment, I like drama and I live for comedy.  I just have no time or patience for lots of upheaval and pointless running around by fictional characters.

When the most ordinary chores require extraordinary effort, entertainment takes on an entirely different meaning and value.  It actually requires very little to amuse me.  A lot of made up danger expressed by actors who, in many cases are grossly overpaid is not my idea of a good time.

Neither is dragging anyone to experience the magic that is "Breaking Dawn" (1, 2 does it matter?  Aren't they all the same?)

PS - "30 Minutes Or Less" was actually pretty funny.

Round Foods = Round Me? or Why I Like Holiday Cookies

Hello Fellow Travelers!

What am I thinking?  The holidays are here in full swing!  They aren't around the corner, down the road or a ways off.  The holidays are here and I can't ignore them anymore and I don't want to ignore them.  However,  here is where my physical limitations are, well, limiting.  I want to bake but I can't.  I can't decorate but doing a pretty tree is/was kind of my thing.  I can't even criticize the way my patient spouse mis-decorates the stupid tree.  (Remember how the kids decorated the tree in "A Charlie Brown Christmas?  The kids huddled around the tree so you couldn't see it then they waved their arms around a lot for a few seconds and Viola!  Perfect Tree!)

Of the few foods that now don't completely frustrate me I have mentioned to food bringers and occasional food senders that self-contained, round foods I can manage.  Anything on a round bun, cookies, ravioli, tater tots - things that are short and stubby work too.  Green beans and French Fries (long foods) are now my sworn enemies.

I still make a pathetic attempt at cake when it crosses my path but anytime I try to introduce a knife or a fork into the "process" it usually foreshadows some fork-related disaster.  I know I've shared with you Travelers how I don't just spill, I spill/smear/drag/spill again a lot!  Here's the thing:  My spouse has lost so much weight training with me none of his clothes fit.  I'm starving myself, I work out every day and I have stayed at exactly the same weight for over a year.  What's up with that?  My body has changed completely too.  I workout really hard because I feel I have to be ready for the next disaster.  Cancer, OK,  Sandy, Not OK,  but I'll deal, but Christmas?  I can't even formulate a strategy and it's 12/14!

So we're back to the cookie.  I like the cheap vanilla ones for the same reason I like cheap white cake.  It tastes a lot like shortbread.  It's not dipped in chocolate.  Cookies are generally round even the traditional shapes I can manage because even the stalest holiday cookies have frosting that holds them together like Elmer's Glue.  Reindeer, Star, Christmas Tree, it doesn't matter as long as there is some cheap, white icing on top gluing that bad boy together like Epoxy.

If I just can get a few Holiday Cookies under my belt, I'll feel Christmas.  Or I won't.  That's the great thing about Christmas you may as well get into it because it comes whether you're ready for it or not.  Wait, isn't that brain cancer?  Nahhh, you can't "get into" cancer, you can't ignore it either.

What is the Life Expectancy of a Wheelchair? Should I Even Care?

Hello Fellow Travelers!

My stupid wheelchair is looking pretty BTS (Beat to S@#@!), well, you get the general idea.  It's vaguely unsightly now, it works just fine.  It's beyond hope visually. So my question then becomes should I bite the bullet and order a new one?  Or should I try to get along without one?  You guys know what I want to do...  OK, I agree, no new chair.  For me, getting a new chair would be like giving up and I won't do that until Needles freezes over.  That, was a no-brainer.

Moving on,  Christmas:  Ignore or Embrace?  I'm thinking this year I should try to embrace Christmas as much as I can.  We're full on in the holiday season, right?   I was thinking of returning to our chosen place of worship now anyway. Ho-ho-ho!  Oh, we've been done with Santa for a few years now.  I have barely acknowledged Christmas the last two years (thank you brain tumor!) and now I need to step it up and get my yuletide on.  Problem:  I can't make or bake anything yet.  I can however, order online.  There is a lot of Christmas out there, right?  My patient spouse already ordered Christmas baked treats for my parents from Costco.  What no one told me was that they (Costco) would deliver this stuff before the end of November.  So now I need to come up with something else "Christmassey".  I don't think that's even a word.  Maybe it should be.

My awesome in-laws always keep Christmas really well, as does my pal, Mary (still makes the best eggnog ever!  And she usually has at least two themed trees.)  We still go to Midnight Mass, and I was going to that long  before I was Catholic.  I'm not particularly reverent just a night owl and really immature. The devout don't go to M.M. they go the rest of the year.  That's why it's called going religiously.  As opposed to going once a year which is called Midnight Mass.  

Flying Goats and Two More Words That Should Never Be in the Same Sentence

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I have a new rant about more words that should never be together, yet there they are.  But first, has anyone else seen a mountain goat in the Italian Alps called Ibex Alpine Goats?  One of the places they like to hike is the front of a dam (What appears to be a smooth, vertical surface) that has been holding back some very old Italian lake (the name of this has escaped me, of course), we saw them on television and now I want to see them in person up close.  We saw it on National Geographic and it was amazing!  It looked like these goats were floating hundreds of feet off the ground unsupported by anything.  Even with an explanation your eyes don't believe your ears when you see these animals hop (I said "hop") from one death-defying spot to another.  The Nat Geo explanation goes something like this; Cingino Dam is ancient, and as such has stones that protrude anywhere from 1/4 to 2 inches at varying intervals on the front of the dam.   The mommy and baby Ibexes have specially adapted hooves and no pesky horns to worry about.  And why do they climb hundreds of feet up a concave, nearly flat surface?  To lick the salty walls of the dam!  Apparently, their diet is pretty devoid of salt.  It's rare that I see anyplace or anything that I must see firsthand, but those goats on that Alpine dam requires my personal attention.  Has anyone seen this?  Does George Clooney live around there?  Anyway, flying goats in summer, in Italy, how bad can it be?

As promised, two words:  "cancer" and "comedy" appear together repeatedly on Google and one site even has a list of the top "cancer comedies".  I forgot how many movies used cancer as a tool to move the story along.  At the top of every list was last year's "50/50" with Joseph Gordon-Levitt (the cancer victim) and Seth Rogen as his goofy friend.  It was pretty funny and I couldn't help but notice he looked great, bald (Gordon-Levitt) and he looked pretty good until the end he got all his hair back which is always a cinematic signal that indicates recovery.  I liked the movie because I like Seth Rogen comedies - warm-hearted and   raunchy.  It definitely had cancer in it.  Those boys used cancer to shave, to pick up girls, discard girls and try on lots of hats!  I revisited "Dark Victory" with Bette Davis, the hallmark of cancer cinema.  Again, I was stymied in my search for meaning, Bette's only revelation was "she needed to live!"  She looked really glamorous and full of energy right to the end.  So that was no help either.

Blatant tearjerkers (Brian's Song) or uneasy comedies (Funny People - Adam Sandler and Seth Rogen) there are no realistic representations of cancer or it's horrifying aftermath.  In film, anyway.  People don't look like they're back from a three-week-stay in Mauii as cancer progresses.  There is nothing comedic about tumors.  I cringe at the phrase, at the idea of a "cancer comedy"  there is nothing funny about cancer.  Believe me, I've looked.  I will continue to look for any humor everywhere, anywhere.  That is all cancer left me with.

Homeland? Poor General Petraeus!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

There is this program my spouse really likes on SHOWTIME called "Homeland".  It's dark and has actors I mostly like and is about spies and the C.I.A.  I never really liked it and it is too convoluted even for me.  Is the Clare Danes character crazier or saner than everyone else at the CIA?  Is she having obsessive fantasies about Brody or is she just a little slutty?  Did Clare Danes move back in with her TV Dad for a month?  A year?  And why?  Did she move in because she was unhinged by the CIA and needed supervision from her father (the always compelling character actor James Rebhorn you know him, he was the go-to guy in the 90's when a movie needed a weasely, bad guy.  Here he is very sympathetic,  just a concerned Dad.)or did she live with Dad because she was unemployed? And  why did she go rushing back to the CIA when Mandy Pantinkin said he believed her?  Then she's nuttier than a fruitcake and brushes old Dad(and presumably most of her meds) off on her way out the door. Is she psychotic?  Is it just a tough job market? And the POW/Congressman Brody Dude, what's his deal?  Is he a real   American who cracked under torture after eight years of being a POW?  Or was he a terrorist all along?  The fact that he looks a little like my spouse just adds to my confusion.  Are Brody's wife and kids moles or dupes?  You know I like a complex storyline as much as anyone,and I mean anyone!  I keep track of Dexter, some of the Housewives Real or not, The Good Wife (?), Boardwalk Empire, Weeds, True Blood, The Simpsons - and that's just Sunday!

I feel like life is complicated enough.  Case in point:  The Petraeus Sex Scandal.  At first, it was just another, garden variety extramarital affair.  A famous  general having an inappropriate relationship with his biographer; regrettable  but not original or unusual.  General is exposed and even though he hasn't seen his paramour in  months he tenders his resignation because he says it's the honorable thing to do and the President accepts resignation.  Sad but fairly predictable, right? Business as usual, right? Wrong!

Every day since Gen. Petraeus did resign there has been a new character added or some new circumstance that is really distracting and not even remotely connected to the President or National Security or really to even to Petraeus himself.  I say, "Poor General Petraeus" because by all accounts he's a good guy, trying (Or who tried) to do a good job as a General and then at the CIA(If you can do a "good anything" there he was doing it), and what will he be remembered for?  Fooling around with his biographer, that's what.

Like that irritating spy show my beloved is so fond of, these Petraeus details and associated men and women leave me with more questions than answers.  When did the CIA know that 4 Americans were killed by an act of terrorism?  Who is that military guy?  The other one.  What does Ambassador Rice have to do with anything?  See what I mean?  I barely grasp the real-life situations that comprise our news.  I can't absorb fictional stories that are as pointless and fuzzy as what I get on TV and the internet as news.  Life is ambiguous.  People can be ambiguous, I get that.  I need my TV to be instructive or at the very least, entertaining, not ambiguous.

"I dunno", Answer that Supposed to Elicit A "Well,that's OK then!" or "Now I Understand. I'm really glad we had this talk!", from parents.

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I am feeling very sad today.  I can't find my younger niece on the internet and she needs me.  Her parents split up several years ago and she lives with her father.  She was always a live wire.  In recent years I have been reduced to following her exploits on Facebook.  She's funny, fearless and is completely honest about her life as only the young can be.

Recently, she made some poor choice or other that got her kicked out of school (Temporarily,I hope) and of course I heard about it and when a parent asked why she did that particular thing she said something uncharacteristic for her but terribly routine for those in her age group, "I dunno".

What is making me so sad is there is almost nothing I can do to help her.  I can't drive or even fly to help her.  I can't even talk on the phone.  This is where this brain tumor situation gets really tiresome.  I'm not by nature, the type that will sit on the sidelines and hope she grows out of it.  This condition I am in forces me to prod others into making phone calls to find out if my niece is still among the living and I get a second-hand answer at that.  It really is hard!

One day, for a split second, I thought I was waking to the sensation of everything being back to normal.  I was not the person plagued with pain.  There was no ringing in my ears  and the constant feeling of falling and spinning.  It was only for a second or two and I'm sure I dreamed it, but it was so real.  I was so relieved!  It all was a long, really bad dream.  Nope.  I really woke up and it is all here; the vertigo, the double vision and the lost-in-space feeling.

I hope she can hold on until Spring.  I hope I can, too.

PS:  From the Network that gave us, "Who the @#$!!! Did I Marry?" comes, "Wives with Knives," seriously, next week on ID.

The World is Full of Food and I Can't Eat All Of It - or, as it turns out, any of it

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I had several good ideas about cancer stuff to write about and all those happy World Series feelings are gone because Serious Storm or Super Storm Sandy was bearing down on New York!  Airports were closed!  Water was flooding subways!  They forecasted snowfall!  I watched Katrina closely and Sandy sounds a lot like Katrina in reverse.  Black President being closely watched to see if he bungles the Federal Response the way Bush did in '05.   Thankfully, Mr. Obama seems to have been keeping an eye on Sandy. Apparently most of the people told to leave, left.  Sandy was a big, nasty, storm made a long assault on Manhattan and  Atlantic City.  History making weather!  Lady Liberty is dark! Katrina was a Category 5 hurricane, Sandy wasn't even a hurricane but she pounded New York so it got a lot of media coverage.  And you could  tell it was going to leave a big mess behind.  And then those same places and poor people are getting slammed by a Nor'easter, whatever that is, it brings snow.  So there are situations worse than a cancerous brain tumor.  No, not really.  Being cold, damp and in darkness temporarily sucks but it probably isn't permanent.  Probably won't last months let alone years.

However, today I want to talk about  food, something I have always held in low regard has begun to become a big problem for me.  Specifically, I have tremendous difficulty operating a fork and a spoon.  Forget the knife.  I have always thought of food as a necessary evil - as fuel and this belief I have firmly held all my adult life.  That, and I really only eat things I really enjoy.  This might be another example of an old way of thinking that no longer applies.  I have enough to contend with, it suits me just fine to forget food altogether.  That has always been my failsafe, fallback position.

I find eating to be pretty disgusting anyway, my big problem with food is essentially the same problem I have with trendy clothes and new houses:  It's too impermanent.  I like to do a chore or spend money one time and be done with it.  Eating is a constant process.  It really seems tedious to me, and if made more difficult by brain trauma, something I'd just as soon skip.  It is really low on my list of things to fix.

My patient spouse who has been producing food without fail, produced (on three separate evenings) the two foods I hate above all others:  meat loaf (it sounds like what it is, gross!  I mean who the hell wants a loaf shaped out of meat?) and bbqd salmon .  You know the sideways cut of the fish that leaves the bones in and the skin on, keeping in all that salmony goodness.  Yuck!  My son really likes a loaf made of meat.  You know why?  It involves ketchup, my least favorite condiment.  I recently saw a Stouffer's commercial for their "homemade" loaf o' meat, and theirs looked exactly like my spouse's!  If Stouffer's is making it people somewhere are eating it.  My spouse is making the right kind, I just don't believe that "meat" and "loaf" belong in the same sentence, let alone on the same plate!  The spouse can make it until the world ends (December 21, Happy Birthday Ian!) as long as he doesn't expect me to eat it.

Thought for the Day:  Just when I stopped watching ID (it moved even too slow for me)they came up with a snazzy new title to draw me back.  Ready?  From the network that brought you "Who the @#!! Did I Marry?"  now comes,"Wives with Knives" destined to be a classic.  You can't make this up!  It practically writes itself!

Normal Wear & Tear? I Think Not! Existing Trauma + Every Day Living = Too Much Stress

Hello Fellow Travelers!

Well I knew I was nowhere close to being finished with all the medical people and places attached to my tumor and the last week was a painful testament to not being done.  I broke yet another rib and an expensive cap fell off.  So that means I have to put aside everything else I'm trying so hard to repair to devote entire mornings or days to seeing doctors and dentists to assess the damage of the most recently inflicted  injuries.

Ordinarily there be a follow up visit or two spaced out over decent intervals of time.  With plenty of time for me to rant about the ridiculousness of my world. Being a patient already managing a variety of other serious symptoms, a broken rib and a broken tooth are just collateral damage that has to repaired as easily as possible, with as little downtime as necessary.

You keep telling yourself that none of it matters.  It really doesn't matter in the scheme of things, but it is difficult to hold onto your perspective when lots of pain and visible damage are the results of simply living.  It would at least seem so much more worthwhile if these damages were the result of creating some amazing piece of art.  Even eating something special is a good reason to break a tooth.  I think it is anyway,.

Unfortunately for me, most maladies big or small can be quickly traced back to my brain tumor/removal/radiation.

PS - Go Giants!  I told you that being compared to a cockroach wasn't necessarily a bad thing!

What I Have In Common With The Giants According to Brian Sabean and Me!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

When Mr. Brian Sabean mentioned that these Giants players are like cockroaches, “Last year, if we were being the misfits, this year, we’re a bunch of cockroaches. You just can’t kill us off.”, I had to take heart or exception because I had made a very personal cockroach-connection in a blog in September citing the film, "District 9". That flick, if you recall, was about aliens and racists. Or a racist who turns into an alien. Alien cockroach!


Hard to kill, my cancer-free ass! That was kind of my point a month ago. That or loneliness, I'll have to go back and look. What does a middle aged, female, brain cancer survivor have in common with a World Series Giant's Team? We're both scrappy! We're both big Giants' fans. And that's about it. I related a little to an alien roach/man. The idea that the Giants were like roaches made it all the way to the NBC Pregame Show where the guys superimposed player's heads onto animated roach bodies, which was pretty darn funny. The best part was when they took the Giant Roach from Men In Black and superimposed a Giant's cap on it's head. That bug was badass! (As a Giant anyway)


PS- No, I did not blog on Monday. I was too sad and had nothing to say. Just kidding! I was watching game 7! GO GIANTS!

Spiders In Space Not the Best Pairing Since Chocolate and Peanut Butter

Hello Fellow Travelers!

Yesterday, the Spouse and I (Mostly the Spouse) watched part of a movie called "Apollo 18".  It may as well be called, "Blair Witch 18" or "Paranormal Activity in Space".  With crackling dialogue  like, "What the hell was that?" and "I heard it too.  What was that? " Did you also know that the moon is crawling with all different sizes of Space Spiders?  Well it is.  Did you also know that the Government knows all about it?  Well, they do.

I looked at the screen long enough to figure out what was going on and it was another flick concocted by men for men.  Astronauts and spiders!  If they could figure out a way to get some Hooters girls and some beer up there it would be the perfect movie.   A female never would write such a silly story.  Any female knows that just being in a space suit or being in the tiny capsule is claustrophobic.  A space suit is not only claustrophobia in and of itself a space suit is kind of  disgusting (all the bathroom functions happen in the suit for starters).  And it doesn't help the wearer's appearance one bit.  So the idea that the space spider gained access to astronauts through their heavy, ugly, suits made all kinds of sense to me.  And the capsule, could it be any tinier or more cramped?  No surprise there, either.  Mission Control refusing any assistance citing "contamination", well isn't that what the Government always does?

No woman I know would don that ridiculous suit, or live in a capsule too small to float in, let alone make a movie about it .  It all sounds really uncomfortable.  It looks awfully uncomfortable.  Space spiders?  Of course they win!  Big unwieldy suits, tiny capsules, those guys don't have a prayer!  Too silly for females to even consider.  The spouse admitted the whole thing was pretty silly.  Although I could see it sounded good on paper  - astronauts  plus spiders equals a hit.  Not so much.

The Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living? Says Who?

Hello Fellow Travelers!

Because I have a date scheduled to see my neurosurgeon, I feel the need to start doing a completely unscientific inventory of my  many limitations and the corresponding deficiencies that  have all presented themselves since 2011.  I'm putting these "conditions" in no particular order.  I am dizzy and imbalanced 24/7. This has the sum total effect of rendering me unable to fix anything, that I could easily repair myself in little time.  Having double vision, still, makes it impossible to cook, clean, work, drive walk, eat, deal with hair or makeup in any meaningful way.  My voice has left the building,  I still am not sure why.  The absence of my not-so-dulcet-tones permeating the region is not probably any loss to anyone but it's inconvenient as hell for me.  I can't go anyplace without assistance, I breathe funny.  I'm in pain all the time.

I had hoped to be one of those cool, cancer survivor women you see sometimes; they have very short hair and wear big pieces of jewelry.  The thing about these women that really sets them apart, is how their faces look, like they were washed by fire.  Like they saw something really bad, fought it and won!  I really don't know if these ladies had cancer but they definitely had something!  My point is that I'll never be one of those women (they seem to come from or are moving to Big Sur) they seem other-worldly and effortlessly perfect.  I'm still in the "Feeling like I'm being assaulted every day" stage.  This stage seems to go on forever and doesn't allow perfection.  At the end of the day, you're just happy to be alive.


My hair looks great.  It's the only part of me that isn't deteriorating.  Apparently, the old axiom is true, "If you don't use it you'll lose it!"  Of course hair is dead but who cares?  Cancer patients have one rule that defines everything and puts everything in it's proper place.  And the rule is this:  There is Cancer and everything else without Cancer.

PS-Before I get jumped on, I do know it was Socrates who provided the saying about unexamined life, blah, blah, blah. I understand that Socrates was pretty jumpy himself. Or rather, the young Greek boys he hung out with were jumpy. I always get that confused, but someone was jumpy or getting jumped.

The Forgotten Woman? Born Before 1970? You Betcha!

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There are few things I look forward to these days, mostly I push myself a little further and a little harder every day,  at the gym.  I know it sounds boring, it is.  That's the life of a brain cancer patient; boring and hard.  I have taken the time to really learn the game of Baseball, listen to my child and appreciate my spouse.  I thoroughly scrutinize any mail that comes my way.  One piece of mail I look forward to receiving is the monthly issue of InStyle, it's full of pretty things;  pretty clothes, pretty accessories, pretty rooms, pretty food.  And, if you are style-challenged, like me, they lay out the outfits page after page with prices, websites and all the accessories.  I have my mom to thank for a wide variety of publications I receive every week/month.  This was a really good thing because when you first come out of brain surgery (and I wasn't warned about this either) you're partially blind and what you do see, floats in space so it's nearly impossible to focus on or read anything.  This subsided after awhile and I'm back to reading books but I still thoroughly enjoy my monthly InStyle. It's just so lovely!

One aspect of this monthly stylish bounty is that there are easy to follow directions and step by step instructions on every trend covered, broken down into age groups 20's/30's/40's.  After the 30's, the instructions on what to purchase/use become a little murky. The directives for beauty if you were born before 1970, are non-existent.  At the most advanced age group they recommend heavy machinery and grout for skin treatment. Maybe we're not supposed to read it.

I take issue with the lack of information, or style directions offered to anyone born before 1970.  There must be lots of ladies who are fashion-crippled, like myself, born before 1970, like myself, and have money to burn, not like myself.  What are we supposed to read?  Not all (or any) of the women I know have stylists; we need those instructions!  Spackle and a Dremel Tool!  Bring it on!  But I need directions!

Bath Salts or Bath Salts? Calgon, Take Me Away!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

Once I heard from a reliable source that some kids were injecting Bath Salts, I set out to discover what they  were or weren't.  I found out people purchased this stuff until recently at really classy joints like head shops and gas stations.  (Don't blame me, Wikipedia says that!)  Bath salts (the drug) look just like bath salts (lame and dusty gift) hence the name.  But that's where the similarity ends.  I don't feel too bad about missing this particular trend, it wasn't a glimmer in the DEA's eye until 2010.  It's still pretty lame.  Bath salts?  Oh no! (Remember Jean Nate?  You were never entirely sure what it was but it was always hangin' around your mother's tub!)

Cocaine and heroin are drugs we can respect and fear.  Whatever happened to Crack?  You never hear about Crack anymore and I thought it sounded real scary.  Those are all scary reasons for us to rationalize the multi billions we Americans spend every year in a drug war that we are losing.  I don't believe any politician could scare the country to the same extent by telling us persuasive stories about the new scourge:  Bath Salts?

So, I'm glad I could solve that mystery for you.  OK, OK, so I was the only one who was mystified, no need to make a Federal case out of it!  Maybe there is a need make a Federal case, who knows?  Maybe some enterprising attorney has already filed a suit.  In Federal Court.  I hope it's already being litigated someplace but with my luck these days I'll run across the previously mentioned enterprising lawyer trolling for claimants on the same stupid channel that has attorneys soliciting claimants who have had problems with their Mesh Sling Implant.   More mystery, Sheesh!  Some things are meant to stay mysterious.

I'm Back with a Vengeance! A Special "After School" Rant

Hello Fellow Travelers, I'm back!

I took a little break, I was afraid I'd given myself Carpel Tunnel Syndrome, and my spouse took one look at the ridiculous way I was typing and insisted that I suspend all my typing activities until a doctor looked at my right hand.  Probably because of the tumor, I fell and shattered my left elbow in '08.  My whole life I was a Southpaw.  I always admired people with pretty penmanship which, as a group, lefties are not known for.  Realizing early on that I would never win a penmanship award (if I could find a school that still awarded them), I focused on bold printing.  While my printing never achieved the Spartan elegance of an architect or a    
graphic designer, it was, at least, legible.

To answer the health questions:  I seem to have developed tendinitis   The good news about that tendinitis requires no surgery.  Thank you tumor!  The bad news is my right hand was the one that worked, it doesn't now at all.  So while two more big, medical, brains mulled over my many ailments, I left their offices without any more information and a wasted morning!  To help my right hand, I'm cutting back at least until I can type with two hands again.  I will post on Mondays and Fridays, I wouldn't want to be too prolific, now, would I?

I was going to use this as a PS, but it's bugging me too much as a mother and a gourmet .  I hear more and more about kids doing crazy things with and because of, bath salts.  Bath salts?  I'm going to go on about it for so many reasons, first of which is I really don't understand it.  What are the kids doing with bath salts?  Is "bath salts" slang for something else?  Are they talking about the salts that look kind of pretty and you get them as sort of a lame gift and they smell like old ladies? Like, really old ladies?  The bath salts that if you get    them as some sort of gift from someone who obviously doesn't know or understand you so you relegate the pretty container to the Guest Bath where it gets all dusty and cobwebby?   Those bath salts?  What on Earth are those poor children doing with them and why?  Can you say "Bath salts are a serious problem affecting our young people."with a straight face?  Try, I'll wait.  Can't do it, can you?  Me neither.

I don't like taking any controversial issues on, especially in my present condition, so allow me to go out on a limb here.  Is that the best the kids can do?  Bath salts?  I can't even type it with a straight face.  What happened to the big movement to legalize pot?  I, myself do not partake, but also have no issue with those that do.  Who am I kidding?  The litmus test is "Would you allow and encourage any child you loved to smoke marijuana?"  And the answer is "Probably, not."  But bath salts?  Poor kids! What brainiac came up with that?  The same mastermind who discovered Whippets? ( I also am out of the loop there, I thought Whippets were skinny dogs used in racing)  And what genius discussion, from what think tank thought ingesting bath salts would be a great idea?

Bath salts?  Why not lamp finials or kitty litter?  I thought I was keenly aware of all manner of trouble-the-kids-might-get-into but I guess I have new issues to consider.  How about the little balls used to fill plush animals?  Hershey's chocolate?  Any kind.  Glue from expensive stationary, just the envelopes?  Where's Julie Andrews when we really need her?  She should be singing about a few of my favorite things.  Bath Salts?  Really?  That's the new heroin?  Really.  Because bath salts make me smile.  Unless I'm really bored, which I am most of the time.  I will be concerned if I need to be.  If I can stop laughing long enough to research bath salts.  Again, who am I kidding?  I think it's not a problem for me and therefore not a necessary log on my 'Bonfire O' Stress' which is always burning.  I will not research bath salts, no matter what Dr. Phil says.  I've got brain cancer to worry about.  I don't have time to see if bath salts or Beanie Babies or designer sheets pose a serious threat to our (my) youths.

The Computer? It CAN Bring People Together! Who Knew?

Hello Fellow Travelers!

A few of you have asked, (and as well you should) "Hey, Cancer Head!  What does your spouse do for fun while you're "getting better"?  Well, he does all kinds of things,  on his computer, when I go to sleep, hmmm, now that I see it in print it doesn't look so great.  Mostly what I see anyway, is him checking out his Facebook account, he has a respectable amount of friends.  Not as many as my youngest niece who counts her Facebook friends in the thousands.  I have four Facebook friends, I think your online life should reflect your offline life.

I didn't fully understand the "point" of social media, until my spouse alerted me to a spirited game of WTF? that featured an old friend of his, his friend's unicorn tattoo (yes, I said unicorn tattoo!) and a lot of people who knew both.  If I understand correctly, his friend wanted other FB friends to spell out their WTF? moments.  What ended up being posted were all the friends and family, current and from the past, who all had memories of this guy and his tattoo!  It was hysterical!  His daughter, his ex-wife, his friends all took turns posting hilarious recollections of that guy and his unicorn tat.

To be fair, this guy looked a lot like Leif Garret back in the day so I could understand the necessity of a tattoo, but a unicorn?  That's a huge commitment, especially for the 80's!  But I digress. It was a joy to watch/read, everyone giving this fellow grief, and telling great stories to boot!  Of course my honey had a great story of his own to contribute.

Hey, it had a life of it's own. I personally wondered where his Puka shells were and my other half had a snarky suggestion about Tiger Beat magazine.  Go Social Media!  

What I Now Have in Common with SWIII - Revenge of the Sith

Hello Fellow Travelers!

We've known each other what, 6 or 7 weeks?  Some marriages don't last this long.  Anyway, we've been traveling together long enough for me to share a sensitive aspect of this brain tumor process which is by it's very nature, low on my list of things to deal with but tragic to me nonetheless.  That painful aspect of  this process is the huge toll an extensive brain injury/surgery does to your face.  I was lucky to keep most of my hair, thanks to extensive dental work and daily trips to the gym, my caloric intake is far less than the output, resulting in not just a different size but also a different shape.  However, there is no haircut, dental implant  or exercise that will repair your face after brain surgery.

As the evil emperor disguised as the equally evil Chancellor Palpatine in Star Wars III remarked, "These battles have left me scarred and disfigured."  Or something like that, of course, the Emperor/Chancellor guy was lying (Was the actor tired of changing costumes?  Was it integral to the story?) I did mention he was evil.  I wasn't setting the world on fire before this calamity befell me. I was barely holding my own.  Does this aspect of brain well, brain anything, I guess, bother men too?  It's low on my huge list of "Things to Fix", because, oh I don't know, oh, let's see, oh, now I remember, I CAN'T WRITE A STUPID LIST YET!'

After I remember how to walk and talk, and get my vision back, and get at least one hand operational, then I'll be able to put a dollar amount on my face.  See what I mean?  Way down on the list!  You want to know something else?  It doesn't matter at all.

Cure for Cancer? Not Yet, Soon and a Woman Will Figure It Out

Hello Fellow Travelers!

On this short and sometimes ridiculous journey we call,"Life".  Someone asked me who the "fellow travelers" were, I thought it was pretty clear, but here is a freaking clarification for those guys, (and I mean men) who require it.  I just watched a five and one half hour baseball game, (A's/Yankees not even the Giants!) I do my part, I willingly watch my other half's sports.  (Well, one team, one sport and one year because I was stuck in front of the t.v. anyway, I thought I should at least learn something, but the point is, I watch!).  So I've noticed that men have a few topics they can comfortably throw out there anytime with anyone.  Sports is one of those topics that seems to even the playing field.  If you know your sports you can talk to any man or get any man to talk.  Baseball in particular, seems to cut through generations, levels of education even countries of origin.

Girls in particular, women in general spend lots of time wondering what lots of boys and men are thinking.  These same females might have cured HIV, or developed a cure for any number of cancers, had they taken all that power and intellect and applied it to real problem solving.  Because, Smart Girls, I'll let you in on a little secret the Smart Ladies have known since we were Smart Girls - those boys weren't, those men aren't thinking about anything special, maybe Baseball, or cars.  There will soon be a cure for cancer (Hey, CNN's Dr. Sanjay Gupta claims a cure is coming soon, I believe him!), and some NOT lovelorn female will be leading the charge!

The Right Hand Doesn't Know (and doesn't care) What the Left Hand is Doing (Seriously, it has no idea!)

Hello Fellow Travelers! 

Recently I had to take  a long, hard, look at  the seeming rapid deterioration of  my right hand.  The right hand had been doing all the work since I broke my left elbow in 2008, and I was left-handed.  I wrote left-handed, played tennis left-handed and cooked left handed.  Since the left side of me has been slowly healing I have relied on the right side, more specfically, on my right hand.  The left is catching up, but it's healing at a much slower pace than the right hand is failing.

I was so distracted by all the things on my body that didn't work correctly I took for granted the one appendage that did work.  Now, both hands are barely accomplishing what my right hand did all by itself for years!  I forgot just how long the right has been carrying the load, it's been somewhere near four years!!!   No wonder my right hand is tired!

So, my fine motor skills are not so fine after all.  My left paw is what I think of as my "Jimmy Hand", (another Seinfeld reference, sorry, I was watching a fair amount of t.v. in the 90's too!), it seems to have a mind of it's own, really strong but it goes everywhere, anywhere, wreaking chaos and destruction in it's path.  Seriously, it's like it's possessed, and the more nervous I become the more violently the "Jimmy Hand" reacts!

So my poor right hand has almost entirely lost the ability to pick up or hold anything and I've got the left flying around anywhere, everywhere.  I have not the first clue what to do about this.  I'd love to hear any ideas out there for hand revitalization and I will seek medical attention early next week and let you guys know what I find out.

A Perfect Storm...In My Mouth? OR My Adventures In Dentistry Part II

Hello Fellow Travelers!

The very last thing I need right now are painful, structural and, worst of all, multiple visits to the dentist.  But here they are and apparently I do need them because the stupid radiation weakens the teeth.  So even though I had healthy, happy teeth for lots o' years, 16 weeks of radiation (combined with a ferocious sweet tooth) ruined their health and added yet another dimension of pain and financial stress to my life.  Thank you tumor!  My patient spouse has reminded me that the Radiation Oncologist did, in fact,warn us about this particular side effect.  I guess when she was rattling off that information I was tuning her out like an adult in a Charlie Brown Special (you know, woh, wohwohwhong...).

Now I have to get all kinds of dentistry done just so I can have healthy enough teeth to whiten, some day, probably when the cancer comes back.  Just Kidding.  Seriously though, what are the chances of feeling maxed out on body blows and requiring many pain-filled visits to the dentist?  The chances seem to be pretty good.  Unlike  my luck, which has been decidedly not.  Good that is.

Subject of an Essay? Color Me Not Ready

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I know my son is in a difficult grade (7th) and he needs to write his first essay about something he knows but did it have to be the events leading up to and including the discovery of my brain tumor?  Honestly, it really bothers me to hear he and his dad revisit some of the bizarre benchmarks on my journey and my son's reaction to them.  It is a little unusual, I admit (I hope it's weird) to have a mom-with-a-brain-tumor, but to hear him tell it, I should have had a clue something was up years ago.

Something wicked this way came (Ray Bradbury), (and went) and I hope it doesn't come this way again!  I can't stand to hear about the genesis of the cancer from anyone's point of view not even my own.  I'm feeling guilt as a mother, guilt as a wife, amazement at everything I've survived,  surprise at how great I feel sometimes.  So I guess there is nothing that should prevent my son from using my horrible personal pain to hopefully get a decent grade in Language Arts (English for us older folks).

I don't have to help him, do I?

Parent/Teacher Meeting - Like Taking A Bullet

Hello Fellow Travelers!

Added to the long list of places I have no business being just yet:    the all-important parent/teacher meeting! We thought we were meeting with one teacher.  We met with all seven of them AND the school psychiatrist AND the school Vice-Principal.  I guess it was a slow Monday at school.  Thankfully, they only had good things to say about my child, so there was that.  

However, being a mute in a wheelchair is not any way to attend any meeting, or go anyplace where you might be compelled to speak and you can't.  Only doctor's offices, possibly the hair stylists', the only 'offices' I currently have any business in.  Doctors' offices because going to those guys affords me the rare opportunity to say, "What the hell, Dude?"  That's always good for a laugh.

I know schoolteachers are a relatively easy group to get my meeting feet wet with, they are very nice people, most teachers are very nice, that's why they're teachers and not serial killers, right?  If I can't contribute anything to a discussion about my own child, all I can do is listen intently and hope my spouse asks all the right questions.  Welcome to the new reality!

Time is No Longer On My Side...

I may be trapped.  I may be completely unable to move independently.  I am, however, keenly aware of the passage of time.  On paper, on my son's grades in the online format, on my face, proof of time's uncaring and inevitable passage is everywhere on everything and everyone.  My maternal grandmother died at my age and she was a nurse.   My parents are still alive and well, thank God.  I am thankful because I come from a long line of people who died young.

I used to measure time as something to be endured.  At the hospital, especially, then at home, counting the hours until a medical professional refreshed my IV (at the hospital) or when it was time for pills (at home).  That was over a year ago now I do that at the gym.  60 minutes on the bike, 50 minutes on the bench, :watching my life go by.  Knowing with every passing hour that no matter what I do those hours roll into another day I've lost forever.  Not knowing when or where the next challenge will present itself, keeps me on    my toes and on my guard.

"Get busy living or get busy dying!", I think Morgan Freeman said that, in a movie.  I have to get better, fast. So I can get on with the business of living, and yes, The Holidays are going to bite.  Hard.

Momentary Crisis of faith - Little f

Hello Fellow Travelers!


No clever stories from Cancerville (right down the interstate from Tumor Town) today.  I'm having a rare crisis of Faith.  Maybe I wrote it wrong.  Using expressions of speech where they don't belong.  My crisis isn't of The Faith, it's of faith in myself, faith that I'm getting any better.  My spouse warned me that the healing would be so gradual I wouldn't notice it.  Well, he's  right about that much, (actually, he's been right about many things, but I'll never tell him that!) I don't notice any healing today.  I hope I notice something tomorrow, life shouldn't be a series of assaults.  I also think I don't have much more time to get better.

Another Delightful Side Effect - I'm Now a Tasmanian Devil

Hello Fellow Travelers!

First, a couple of corrections to yesterdays' blog; I forgot a small word (the) it has since been added.  The film I referenced was from South Africa, not Australia.  It makes a little more sense that it was a thinly veiled swipe at Apartheid.  Actually, I'm not really sure there is anything veiled about it.  District 9 is pretty in-your-face about the filmmakers' viewpoint on Apartheid, I mean come on, Roach People living in a ghetto?  Who were they talking about?  Anyway, it was brought to my attention and I have corrected it,  the emotion I was trying to evoke was loneliness which I believe cuts across all peoples.  And all species.

Enough about racists and Roach People.  Today I want to talk about rampant, unrelenting clumsiness.  No one warned me about this, but it  starts out bad and gets worse.  I would categorize my current clumsiness somewhere around a 3,  Hurricane Katrina being a 5.  I just don't knock things down I drag things across great distances.  If there is any liquid, it doesn't merely spill, it looks as though it's been flung and then stepped in.  I mean really, although nobody ever accused me of being Princess Grace, I didn't destroy a tablesetting with such ferocity and uncanny accuracy.  A talented toddler couldn't approach my level of destruction!  Sometimes even I have to laugh at myself so incredulous I am at the havoc I've wreaked!
What do I do?  I'll tell you what I do, the thing any self-respecting, red-blooded, American does;  avoid the entire problem whenever possible!  Tell myself that it's just one more thing, just one more log (on the ever burning bonfire of stress)I try to understand, as all foodies do, that the world is full of food and I can't eat all of it.  Put in it's simplest terms:  If it looks too daunting, I don't bother.  Eating.  Or drinking.

Now that eating and drinking are projects that have to be mastered, I am more particular than ever about what I consume.  That makes sense to me for now.  Oh, I have lots of straws too.

District 9? I Kinda Live There...And it SUCKS!!!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

My caregiver has to eat something, so while he does that, I will try to walk or at least stand.  I will stand! OK, I can stand.  Big deal, right?  Unfortunately for me, standing unassisted, is a really big deal.  How does one measure success at recovery?  I've never been in better shape, but it's a shape gathered from unbelievable stress, on my body and my soul.  I feel like I should carry a large weapon (Uzi?) on my back, and always be ready for the next assault. Because I never know when the attack is coming or from where, but it will come.

 We saw a movie, before I had the tumor removed,(forever after known as BTR, as in, Before Tumor Removal) called "District 9", it was an Australian film where cockroach looking space aliens are stuck on Earth, and humans treat them like scum. It features one, racist, human who, over time, turns into a cockroach man and has to live among the Roach People. If you haven't seen it, it will get you thinking. Plus, the part where the racist guy turns into a huge mopey, cockroach  is pretty awesome!  It was sad though, he had to live with the aliens ( in District 9) but he missed his family (human), he was a bug-alien and could only watch his family from a distance at the end.  It was sad because he didn't fit in anywhere, he was one, lonely, large, roach and I relate to him!  I am afraid on a daily basis, I see myself changing every day and I don't fit in anywhere.  I'm too young to fit in with the old folks and too old to belong with the younger set.  I am too crippled to do any of the activities I used to enjoy and far too obstinate to ever entertain the idea that I won't do them again.

As my voice gets fainter and I get harder to understand, I get quieter and quieter.  It's lonely inside my head, no wonder Clint Eastwood talks to empty chairs.  Maybe he's lonely, I can understand that...I

Stuff I Used To Do And Wonder If I'll Ever Do Again

For some reason I have been thinking a lot about shoes, specifically high heels.  I wonder when I will get to wear them again.  Lucky for me, I suppose, that I get InStyle magazine (Thanks Mom!), so I've seen many outfits and many, many new shoes.  I find most new shoes (you know the ones) to be, in a word, butt-ugly.  I was OK with "The Return of the Platforms", cutting out the toes, not so much.  I mention shoes because while I see plenty of other new things I'd like to have, shoes are not on the list, at least not new ones.  So that's one less thing to worry about missing.

Being able to see well enough to apply my own makeup or being able to cook would be good too.  Will I ever drive again?  More basic than driving?  How about will I ever ride my bike again?  Once that I was firmly convinced that rest and medication were not going to fix anything(about a year ago), I got to work proving (to myself, mostly) that nothing would help me but my brain's plasticity and a lot of daily exercise (also about 12 months ago).  Relying on myself to repair the damage is a little tiresome, but understandable.

I plan on increasing my Practice Walks and workouts, in number as well as in length and duration,which I increase every week anyway.  For some reason, deprivation and really hard physical labor make perfect sense to me.  Now, for instance,  I have worked too hard to let up now!  My hair just started to come back, too!  No, I don't need new shoes, what I need is a plan.

Unappealing Options

I saw my neurosurgeon today and he conveyed to me that he's not happy with my progress.  I'm certainly not pleased (bank robbers and some drug dealers have served less time than I have)and kindly offered some really unappealing surgical options.  Anytime I hear the word, "shunt", I shudder a little.  Sort of like when I hear the word "catheter", that's good for an involuntary cringe or two.  It must have been a banner day for someone someplace because the "shunts" and "catheters" were discussed at length.  And semi-permanent, also mentioned.  I'm not a big fan of anything semi-permanent, either make a commitment to permanence or don't.  The term "semi" implies that the recipient of whatever is "semi" has a choice of keeping or discarding said item when, in reality, it's the installer who keeps the control because the installer has the expertise to remove the "semi-permanent" whatever.

In any event, I have a couple more doctors to see and a little time to consider these and other appealing options.  I keep saying to my patient (the quality found in humans, mostly) spouse that I'll undergo any treatment, but now I'm not so sure.  Maybe I do have a limit to how much misery I can handle.  It's different from getting medical attention because you have to.  Signing on for the unknown is scary!  I'm not sure if I can do it, I'll let you know if I do.

Questions for the Neurosurgeon???

Hello Fellow Travelers!

Tomorrow morning I'm going to Roseville for a follow up, feel good, visit with my neurosurgeon, he's really thorough and kicked that brain tumor's ASS!  The good Dr. is also young, well-connected and I can't believe he has a lot of patients like me.  Patients who have no sign of the evil cancerous, tumor, but can't walk, speak, see or use 90% of previous manual dexterity.  So I'm thinking at the very least he can tell me what worked/didn't for his other patients.  I don't mind the pain, but there is no escaping from it, or the vertigo and dizziness.

I guess that would be the $64,000 question:  How did your Astrocytoma patients learn to walk and talk again?  Were any patients without balance?  Without coordination?  (OK, I can count, that's three questions)  
Without some concrete solution I'm sentenced to Limbo Land for an indefinite stay.

He's a solution-oriented sort of guy so I hope when he sees how completely messed up I am he'll have some real ideas.  Or unreal ideas, at this point, who cares?  An idea is a lot more than what I have, which is no idea, not a clue!

Having a bad day? Tell me all about it!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

Did you ever have a day when it just doesn't seem like you have accomplished anything?  I'm having a day like that today, I don't really know why, maybe I've set the bar higher and I have a certain expectation for what each day should produce.  Maybe I'm keenly aware of the passage of time and I'm dissatisfied because the healing process is taking so long.  Maybe I feel fat today, although I know mentally I'm not fat, I feel fat.  Maybe I'm just in a bad mood.  I think it's the passage of time thing!  I'm lonely and bored inside my head all alone.  I really hope there is an end to this or some medical solution that I haven't heard of
.
On that, I will workout harder and walk a little further and snap out of this (hopefully) PDQ.

Scared Stiff...True Horror? Or Anesthesia-Induced Nightmare?

I can vividly remember the nightmares that immediately followed my brain surgery in the ICU.  I was convinced that I had another head (result from a drain, attached to my head) and I had frighteningly real "visions", for days after the surgery.  I have done a little research and found out that it's fairly common to have disturbing dreams following brain surgery.  This dream went on forever and I was terrified of the ICU, all the staff of the ICU.  I was so scared, at some point I pulled out my breathing tube, repeatedly, which I hear is pretty hard to do.  I had this idea that the Graveyard Shift of the ICU practiced evil on ICU patients when all the Day Shift and Swing Shift (4-12) left.  I included the blood techs in the Demonic subgroup  because it seemed to me that the blood guys came every four hours, and not painlessly nor quickly drew  blood (found out later, that it was every 4).  I saw blood-curdling sights on more than one trip to the MRI tube as well.  I was so afraid on one occasion, I forgot to be claustrophobic.

I begged the doctors to let me go to Acute Rehab, and they did.  The nurses in Acute Rehab were all business but at least I wasn't afraid for my life.  I needed a lot of sleep after I had the tumor removed.  I didn't understand at first why so much time was left blank between therapists.  I soon learned your brain craves sleep after a trauma.  You sleep like a baby or maybe a cat.  Anyway, you sleep a lot, that's the point.  Getting as much sack time as possible becomes an overriding concern.  When I dreamed (?) again, it was about overhearing private conversations in a break room where unfortunately I could hear everything being said.  I came to find out later,(I was shown by a nurse) that my room did have some connection to where the therapists hung out and I could hear everything that was said.  One therapist couldn't stand me and it took a little getting used to but I started using what I heard to modify my behavior to better be an ideal patient. For instance, I was a picky eater so I ordered exactly what I could eat, so I'd receive 100% credit for eating my meal even though my "meal" was pretty minimal. (Yeah, yeah, I realize it's really, really, petty but I was tryin' to survive man!)  It didn't matter where the information came from I used it.  Soon, I was in everybody's good graces and it was time for me to go.

Don't let anyone tell you differently, either, the nurses run the show.  Doctors and visitors come and go, but the Nursing Staff is running things in your hospital,  24/7.  Nurses dictate when you eat when you use the restroom, IF you use it, when you get your medicine, and almost every aspect of your hospital world.  Whether you are happy or sad depends entirely on your nurse du jour.  Then I noticed the chill between the nurses and the therapists.  Brrrrrrr!  

I never did decide if the scariest night of my life was a dream or a huge conspiracy.  I tend to think it was a really, really, bad dream with some real results:  My hair is coming back like crazy but with a white stripe, like Pepe Le Pew/Stephen King.  I'm very different (better, I hope) than I was before the surgery.  Does it really matter where the change came from?

Losing My Voice? No Great Loss!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

One of the side effects of a brain tumor is dysarthria, or the inability to speak.  I have a clear recollection of everything else that instantly changed after the surgery but losing my voice was a gradual process.  You know what?  Being forced to shut up (and listen, to others), has been a revelation for me.  I have always talked far too much, but now that I rarely speak,  I'm amazed at how little really needs saying!  Really, you don't have to say much to get along.  Not speaking is inconvenient, to be sure, but not the end of  the world you might imagine it to be.  To not speak actually does make me a much better listener particularly to the people who I tended to cut off the most often - my son and my spouse,  I cut off my son because I know better and my husband because I thought he was too slow getting to the point.  I was wrong on both counts, and, delighted in finding out my son had all kinds of things to say, given the chance and so did my husband!

A lot of my new listening skill set, as I think of it, comes from a plethora of unnecessary (useless) factoids that are lodged in my cranium that do me no good now.  I also see every challenge as an opportunity to gain some better understanding of people that I care about, the people that are by my side, on my side, on this terrible journey.   (Did I mention my glass  is half-full?  Of what, I have not yet decided!)

Thought for the Day:  Maybe I watch too much t.v. (I do, there's no maybe about it!) but since I've discovered ID, Investigation Discovery, and decided it was too slow for even myself, I have noticed more and more ads for legal help.  The one that is scariest is the law firm that claims you have compensation waiting if you've had something called a mesh sling fail you. Side effects of this failure include: Intestinal fallout, kidney failure, painful intercourse and even death!  My thinking is that if your intestines are falling out and your kidneys are failing maybe "painful intercourse" isn't your first priority.  Or death.  If you happen to be life-challenged, (or dead, as it were) maybe you're not thinking about sex at all.  Just sayin'...

Falling... In Love? With? No, Just Falling!

OK, now I admit I fall.  A lot.  I have no balance or coordination so I fell over pretty frequently when I was healing (and highly medicated) and now that I'm feeling better I fall even more.  These new falls are fast, unexpected and rarely do I land on my head anymore.  The falling is a part of the healing process, at least that's what I tell myself when I fall or see the rainbow of bruises.  I learned how to fall without hitting my head.  The deep welt on my back hurts like hell, but the same fall on my head would have resulted in a pointless trip to the ER.

It's also the main motivator for whipping my body back into shape.  I keep imagining myself as being required to be in top physical condition, so I can be better prepared for the next fall.  It really seems  like I'm   under attack!   So I have to be ready and always vigilant!

OK, so falling blows pretty hard.  We, humans are very breakable.  When I didn't know how fast I could fall    I fell frequently and broke both arms and some other bones too.  I have learned that I can and will break, how to minimize the damage of the falls that happen now and later.  Don't even get me started on spilling...

Lose the "Battle to Brain Cancer"? Me? Never!

Hello fellow travelers!

I've never owned a firearm.  I do think they are pretty exciting!  Probably not very exciting to lots of soldiers around the world who might have dark stories regarding their firearms.  Everyone seems to be battling something. Injustice, communism, socialism, pest infestation, celllulite, all must be battled.  If you read, anything, you have read this line many times; "After battling whatever-type..Cancer, Jo Blow lost his brave fight," or this one, "After a long battle with  ______ cancer, Mrs. Cleaver lost her fight..."  I always wondered who exactly these people were fighting?  What were they fighting with?  What did the combatants wear?  How do you know when it's over?  When someone is dead?

I read in some book a character thinking something along the lines of, "I watched my Uncle die after a long period of time in the hospital.  I never saw him 'in battle' like the newspaper said,  he just got smaller and smaller in his hospital bed."  I think I figured out the battle/cancer question or, at least part of it.  It's not when     you (or, more to the point, ME!) end up in the hospital, if you're in the hospital, it's because you're done.  Done battling, done trying to get your life back, you have given up, all battles are probably long finished.  The "Battle" is in the gym and the rehab center.  The "Battle" for me is sweating as I slowly walk (with a walker, no less) a few hundred yards.  I look forward to these Bataan Death Marches.  I go to the gym every day, lift weights and ride the stationary bicycle until I am forcibly stopped.  Make no mistake, this is where the rubber meets the road.  It is the most difficult task I've ever attempted and it's life or death, I know that much.  There is a time factor to all this retraining too.  Feeling like I'm under seige 24/7 is a lonely and exhausting place to be.  I can' t keep it up forever, neither can my pre-teen son, or my spouse.  I wasn't doing that great before the stupid tumor, but I had no clue how bad things would get after the huge Astrocytoma was removed!

I continue to work, walk and "battle" as though my life depends on it!  (because it probably does)

I Drink, Therefore I am? I Drank, Therefore I was!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I used to be able to seriously consume wine the Californian drink of choice.  I drank the cocktails in my youth that all Arizonans of a special age (19) and gender (F) grew up with; wine coolers to Strawberry Daiqiries to White Russians to Black Russians to well, Russians (just kidding, but doesn't it sound good?), to scotch and water to Vodka/Diet Coke(supposed to be the diet alternative).  Sometime later I became interested in fine wines and how they were paired with food.  Later, I became slightly less interested in boutique beer, or micro-brews.

Now I don't drink anything.  Ever.  I miss the kahlua because I have voracious sweet tooth and miss the sugar and coffee flavor.  My best friend brought me a fabulous Cabernet that took me a long time to consume a little at a time and it gave me no problems and I thoroughly enjoyed it.  It takes so much mind power and mental and physical stamina just to accomplish little things I can't imagine cocktails clouding my poor, damaged, brain.  My liver, for those keeping score at home, is just dandy!

So  maybe just maybe, I'll be able to taste wine (and spit, a lot) again.  My palate is still pretty sharp, my opinions are at least as sharp, I'm pickier than ever  Being critical about things like wine, food, books even real estate is like breathing (at least I can still do that) and are some of my best qualities.  Maybe I can be critical than ever, stone, cold. sober.  Boring?  Perhaps.  Essential?  Definitely.  Something else to relearn, but far down on the list.  Like some distance behind relearning cleaning the cat's litter box, WAY, WAY, down on the list...

Crap My Mom Sends Me Unintentionally-HYSTERICAL!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I love to read, always did, probably always will.  My mom knows this and tries to send me all sorts of Arizona-based newspaper articles, comics and other op/ed pieces that catch her fancy.  Sometimes she'll put little notes on the "clippin's" (that's how I refer to them) like, " do you like this?" and "What about this?"  Usually she sends pictures of AZ or funny political cartoons, I guess she was running low on "clippin's", or feeling especially  puckish when she sent me what turned out to be a Sex-Offender-Moving-Into-Your-Neighborhood flyer.

Once we established this scary-looking dude was NOT moving into my parents' neck of the woods, the questions started flying fast and furious.  Where DID they get such an icky thing?  (my niece)  What IS Third Degree Rape?  (Where there is threat of substantial, unlawful harm to the property rights of the victim.  As in, do it with me or I'll egg your car!  A Class 'C' Felony, by the way) and finally, Why would she send it to me? (to get out of the State?  Her State?)  Ship it to California!  The best part for me was what my mother wrote on the top right hand, corner:  "How about this?" I mean you gotta love that!

What I'm sure happened in actuality, is my mom wrote me a nice letter and knowing her mail carrier was coming sooner than later, grabbed the icky-but-interesting document, wrote a quick question on it then popped it in the mail.  Whatever predicated the flyers arrival isn't important ( and no, he wasn't an old boyfriend of mine or anyone I know.  I asked.)it cracked me up, got my spouse looking up legal terminology on his phone and my son to promptly remove the garbage.

Thought for the Day:  Tropical Storm (Category 1 tops) Isaac?  Not very Scary
                                  Hurricane Katrina (Cat 5)?  Now that's some scary shit!

Proud? Proud of WHAT???

My mother wrote me the other day, she always says she's proud of me, all I'm going through, all I've been through, she's great isn't that what all the great moms say?  She often says things like "I couldn't go through that!" and "You have so much determination!", well if it happens to anyone, better to happen to someone who refuses to die, I really don't feel as though  I've done anything special, certainly nothing to be proud of.  I had some brain surgery followed closely by chemicals and radiation.  I work out every day and I've survived.  Does that make me special, a fighter?  Or a human cockroach?  If there isn't full recovery as a result of lots of clean living and lots and lots of physical labor I don't have a clue what I'll do.  I think I'll always work out.  I've always been a picky eater, always feeling like food is an option, not necessarily a requirement.  No one asked me if I was up to the Challenge of a Brain Tumor, if I was asked, I would have screamed,"Hell, no!"  It's being assaulted every day.  Life as I knew it completely changed when I woke up from surgery and kept changing.

Still Falling After All These Years or at least 18 months -

Hello Fellow Travelers!  On this super-long journey back from the abyss, or wherever you're coming from it's where we're going that's important, right?  The price of having a brain tumor removed, my price seems to be a complete removal of balance and coordination.  That's my way of rationalizing it when I fall, and I still fall a lot.  Less than I used to, never on my head, but I still fall.  It's always a surprise, too.  I have bruises all over in various stages of color.  I fell again just last night, and skinned my back.  Unlike bruises, a big scrape or scratch (I can't even see it to describe it here) is really painful.  Every time you take a shower or change your clothes, "Ouch!" or some other colorful interjection.  Another life-changing discovery I made on this "Fantastic Voyage", is that we are all breakable.   When I was first out of surgery but taking Radiation and Chemotherapy I fell many times and broke both arms and several ribs.  All the breaking has made me a little more judicious in the steps I take and the medications I don't.  

Fellow Tumor Patients, Are You There?

Hi there fellow travelers!  I have been dealing (or not, depending on  who  you ask) with issues relating to Brain Tumors for the better part of two years and it’s only been since last Spring that I made the decision to do whatever was in  my power to develop my brain’s plasticity and regain as much motor function as possible.  I am always reminded of a great lady (my mother-in-law, she’s truly awesome!) who told me a story a few years ago about one of her neighbors in San Bruno who committed suicide.  I got the impression my mo-in-law found that to be pretty cowardly, that’s always been my thought on the subject too.  I think I haven’t earned the right to check out.  So I have never seriously considered it, as an option.  One day, I looked at the growing  real estate that was my body, and said, Well, THIS is bull!@#!” And took charge of the one thing I still could control.  It took a long time to get that far.  I still have a long way to go so if you are recently diagnosed as having a brain tumor or trying to recover from the surgery, or the radiation, or the chemo, and you can’t see, require a nap or can’t stand up straight you are lucky (to be alive)!  Don’t  waste your precious energy looking at stupid blogs, (Grafitti, with punctuation - Contagion).  Take a nap!  Take another nap.  Then wake up, take some meds(if that’s your thing), and go back to sleep.  You probably need to.  One of the kindest people I know religiously brought me treats while I was in the hospital and I still haven’t thanked her properly.  One other person sounded really angry when I called her, I don’t remember anything I ever said or did that would even irritate  this person (to be fair, I did call her at work, where she can’t stand her boss, and she has no privacy there).   Having a huge astrocytoma surgically removed, puts everything else into perspective.  Another woman (Sarah Jessica Parker, I don’t know for certain if she’s awesome or not, I would like to think she was, awesome, that is) said,”That was like taking a bullet.” I just  got home from my son’s seventh grade Back-to-School Night.  Now that was like taking a bullet, but six months ago I wouldn’t have even considered going.  Any time prior to eighteen months ago, I never would have dreamed of not going.  So although I would love to hear stories of hope and inspiration from other brain tumor survivors, I know what it’s like just not being able to do anything.  When your only job is to get better and you can’t.  It does get better, so gradually you don’t notice it at first, but it does.  I’ll stop now before any more bullets come flying my way.  I don’t expect any, but then I wasn’t expecting a brain tumor either.

Walking Medical Miracle or Just Hard to Kill???

Hi there!  You know when you see a zillion ants scurrying like mad to and from their hill or home or whatever?  There is always some large insect, maybe a beetle or even a butterfly on it's back that the ants aren't yet attacking, the ants just scurry around the flipped over obstruction.  You know as a kid you could be a good samaritan and flip that beetle over because you know if you leave the huge bug on it's back it is completely helpless and soon the ants will notice the larger beetle and carry it away, the ants just see dinner for their queen.  That's a good description of how I feel every day, like the world has turned upside down, and me with it.  I feel pretty healthy if the world would stop spinning I'd be fine.  If the ground would stop falling away from under my feet, I would be able to repair some of the damage the brain tumor left.  One of my doctors remarked that I was a "walking medical  miracle", since the cancer was really gone like it was never there.  Getting rid of the tumor came at such a high price, I'm not sure I can pay it.  I'm reduced to  relearning basic physical skills that I learned as a baby and I'm not suited to it.  I can't speak, I'm not exactly sure why so I type, a lot.  At the end of the day, I'm grateful to be alive but living is painful and a big struggle.       I feel like I'm a large bug on my back,  just set me on my feet and I'll be fine!  If I have to retrain my brain to balance, walk, see, etc.,I could be here forever.  Doctors will be the first to tell you they still only have three ways to treat you:  (1)  Medication (2) Counseling (3) Surgery.   I don't believe in the first two and I have enough information to not have much hope for "miracle surgery".  I hope I'm wrong and I often am wrong, because I still have a lot to do and people counting on me.

So I guess I'll keep working towards better-than-before-recovery.

Thought for the Day:  Do you think that Matthew McCaughnehey called up Lance Armstrong after he was stripped of all his Tour de France titles and said something along the lines of:  "Dude, really?  Duuuuuude!"

Disasters, Tiny or Epic, I've got All I can handle...

Hi there! Hurricane Katrina, Mt. St. Helen's, Loma Prieta were epic disasters. My recent dental work, and the pain and disruption resulting from it, is a tiny disaster, globally speaking. But for me, when faced with huge daily challenges and new mechanical difficulties, even with the small ordinary tasks,  I replay the Mission Impossible Theme in my head. Da, da, da - Da, da, da... Play it in your head and imagine climbing onto your bed (or falling as the case may be), brushing your teeth (A frustrating experience just getting the paste or gel on the stupid toothbrush), da-da, da, da, da, da, da... tying your shoes (Another ten minutes, and usually my spouse reties them), da, da, da,  da, da, da, da, da, do, do, doo(well you get the idea).  Now that I am getting muscles, I feel like I have to snap into action for any tiny disaster of epic proportions.  With my current post-op deficiencies, anything additional is huge whether it's tiny OR epic in nature. This camel can't take one more straw. I am currently maxed out on adrenaline pumping, life-threatening  disasters.  My cup doth runneth over, or, enough already!  Everything is freakin' epic!  So I better be ready...Da, da, da, da...

Thought for the Day:  Can a claustrophobic be a hoarder?  I don't see how.

Drugs, More Drugs and then No Drugs At All

Hi there!  I don't know who (if anyone) regularly reads this, but I try to write from my patient's perspective and as a former(and possibly future) patient I should probably address the pharmacological buffet that I was prescribed immediately following the surgery to have the tumor removed.  I was prescribed a variety of Narcotics, Hypnotics and Benzodiazapines (and a lot of other stuff) for a host of post-surgical issues. Pain, oceans of pain.  Anxiety (MRIs), sleep(or lack thereof), dizziness and no balance.  From strongest and most helpful and least invasive on down to the current (I don't take anything and haven't since November of last year). What I can remember is the following:

1.  Fentanyl - Patch 50/75/100 - Yes, they were narcotic patches that were supposed to stick to you, and when they stuck, they were pretty effective.

For "breakthrough" pain I was prescribed LOTS O' pills.  When you are in true agony, there seems to be NO relief.  Pills affect everybody differently and everybody the same:  In the end, you need more pills.  That seems to be the common sentiment amongst doctors, patients and pharmacists.  And they don't fix anything.  At all.  Having said that, here is a list of all the painkillers I was prescribed in 2011 (that I can remember):

2. Dilaudid - 2 and 4mg
3. Oxycontin - 40mg/x2 a day
4.  Morphine (in pill form/what strength ???)
5.  Hydrocodone - 10/325, 7.5/500, 5/500 (generic for Vicodin/Acetomenophine)

And those are just the narcotics!  When I was going back and forth to the hospital a lot, I was also prescribed everything from Xanax to Lorazepam(the former made me sleepy the latter made me nuts!)

About a year or so ago I had enough.  None of these pills in any combination were ever going to repair my eyesight, or restore my balance or remove the dizziness.  I'm beginning to understand, all that will have to come from me.  Maybe there was a period of time when I needed some medicine to heal and a lot of rest.  When you have brain surgery or let's be blunt, any trauma that really and truly messes you up, it's all just medicine, it's not fun or relaxing or anything good.  I look back on that time as lost and painful.

Since my husband is very much into health and we are trying to speed up this interminable healing process I go to the gym and practice walking seven days a week.  I see the world and everyone in it very differently.  I still feel as though I'm under siege, 24/7.  I figure the least I can do is keep in shape for the huge challenges thrown my way every day and lighten my carcass as much as possible (so there's less of me for my husband to cart around).  My head still hurts a lot of the time. Nothing helps, so I don't take anything. A doctor, when hearing about my desire to stay narcotic-free, remarked, "Pain means you're alive."  I hope so, I'd hate to think all this suffering was for nothing...

Commercials on Previously Commercial-free Channels, What's Up With That?

Hi there!  So, as I know I've mentioned, I have been in the unfortunate position to watch far too much television.  Enough to decide my world will be a far healthier place sans t.v..  I don't insist on this radical departure for everyone, just me.  As soon as I can walk across the gym and snap it off, the t.v. will stay off.  In the meantime the flatscreens rule my life and most of my entertainment comes from a cable box. Everything looks so good in High Def!  What doesn't look so great(and sounds even louder during commercials)are the advertisements that now break up previously ad-free movies and shows like IFC.  You're trying to watch an edgy, F-Bomb laden, independent film and a commercial for a new Toyota runs periodically it's really disconcerting.  When the car (and corresponding Geico insurance ads)commercials are over, and there is nothing else to sell, the programming wizards at IFC might treat us to a behind-the-scenes-look at whatever garbage they might be generating be it a movie or something they're whipping up just for IFC.  You get perspectives from the new actors, the director and the "older" actors.  Well I wasn't really watching. but I heard enough to know that the newer actors (Shia LaBoef, Tom Hardy and Jessica Chastain) spoke about the movie a little and the old actors spoke a lot about the movie and the thrill it was to work with such hugely talented people as Jessica, Shia and Tom.  I was typing away, largely ignoring this "show", and then I heard the "old" actors, Guy Pearce and Gary Oldman!  They aren't that old!  Especially Guy Pearce!  Thanks Independent Film Channel, for making me disconcerted AND making me feel very old.  Thank you for that!  I feel less independent than I did an hour ago, but I'm ready to buy a new Prius.

Thought for the day:  Is it just me or IS Jessica Chastain a slightly newer version (I mean slightly, like 4 or 5 years) of Bryce Dallas Howard?  A Hollywood Clone, perhaps?  Someone really should look into that...

Wheelchairs: A Rant Based on a True Story

My wheelchair and I have been together for 18 months or so.  It's the only piece of medical equipment I rent, I have never learned to steer or turn properly and I routinely get stuck in doorjambs and narrow hallways.  I really believe the chair is a very temporary necessity and I don't wish longingly for a power chair with a cupholder.  Being in any sort of wheelchair demands a whole new set of challenges be anticipated and overcome in any situation.  For me, it's easier to lose the chair.  I'm almost there, too,  People look at you differently too, or look right through you, as though you're not there.  People look over your head at your caregiver and talk about you like you're deaf.  When I return this "thing" to whatever medical supply place it came from, if there is a form to fill out about it's returned condition (like rental cars) I hope there is a box to check for"Beat to Shit", there really isn't any other way to aptly describe it!  What else can I say about the "Conveyance-from-Hell"?  That it encourages bad posture?  That it makes the user shorter and lower than most countertops and tables?  That it requires almost daily cleaning?  All that could be said and lots more. I won't say it.   What I will say is that learning to use the wheelchair properly and not pulverizing doorways, would be tantamount to giving up.  So, I haven't, I bash with abandon and I'll never quit.  Can you tell I don't hold these chairs in particularly high regard?

Caregivers-The Unsung Heroes of the Brain Tumor World

I don't know about today's title, maybe there are tons of places where caregivers are honored and revered, I haven't seen them and I've looked.  My husband knows me better than almost anyone and he has cared for me and done the lion's share of caring for our small family.  I can't do even minimal tasks, Sean makes coffee, dinner and most decisions.  He deals with all the doctors offices and handles all the insurance people, stuff I used to do really well.  It's more tedious than I realized, he's also incredibly patient when he's dealing with all the different pharmacy people and lab people and people in general.  Several of those very same people have told me that it's really obvious how much he cares for me, they can tell by watching Sean with me.  Whether he's helping me walk, into the car, or at the gym, he pays a lot of attention to my safety, he still makes me laugh every day.  Usually more than once!  When the doctors didn't know where to send me and how to treat me, Sean knew.   I feel (and look) very different than I did before the surgery to remove the tumor, I'm really happy and at peace.  I can't be sure why but I know my caregiver has a lot to do with it.

PS - Did I mention he doesn't get paid?  

Tremors-Never Before-Increasing in Appearances and Frequency

Hi there!  I'm now faced daily with various body parts,  mostly head and hands, shaking,  It used to be predicated on stressful situations, but lately, it happens all the time.  Especially if I'm physically fatigued, I can make the shaking stop if I focus on it, hard.  These tremors and the weakening right hand have me truly concerned.  In other news, my dominant left hand is getting better at fine motor skills, but I never know when  it will fly off and go in a completely independent direction.  It makes me wonder if my Southpaw is motivated by something other-worldly.  (Meaning something other than me.  Like "Seinfeld's Jimmy Leg")Like, I'll be doing something ordinary that I can still do, like washing my hair and my left hand will vibrate like a divining rod and quickly and smoothly dart out.  What's up with that? I don't know, I've never known.  Someday, I'll look deeply into it.  Right now, it's just another, amusing disaster.

P.S. - Do you want to review Mitt Romney's tax returns?  Me either.

Another Day, Another Disaster...

I know I've spoken (or written) about being left-handed breaking that hand and subsequently relying more and more on my right hand for almost all fine motor skills.  Well, my trusty right hand has been increasingly weak (or  it has seemed to me)and as I was running bathwater last night, I realized my right hand wasn't registering hot/cold.  I checked it again later, waiting until my fingers were positively pruney, same result, no feeling at all where temperature is concerned.  Today I have simply dropped lots of items, repeatedly, so I'm performing the same "field tests" on my hands as yesterday, and it's heat my right hand isn't feeling, my spouse suggested it might be a delayed reaction to Temodar, which I reacted badly to anyway.  I am fairly  freaked out the loss of my one, good hand would have a huge impact on my daily circumstances.  So, if anyone reading out there have any bright ideas or heard of this condition in general, please indicate!   One bike ride/60 min/level 2 - 2 walks

It Must Be A Slow News Day or Possibly An Election Year...

Hi there!  It's difficult not to be distracted from my objectives when such amazing things are happening all over  the world.  For example, some American "law maker" was skinny dipping in The Sea of Galilee!!  The crap you miss when your brain is injured.  The entire country runs amok!  I laughed my cancer-free head off about that! I am still managing without a wheelchair whenever I can and typing with two hands. Although you never know what that crazy left is going to do. Seriously, you don’t. If the brain is as plastic as it’s supposed to be and if I’m as stubborn as I think I am, then I’m supposed to be able to retrain my brain to do little, ordinary things.   If you are keeping score, I periodically see some of the doctors who worked on me. Next up? The neurosurgeon who operated on me in January of 2011. His perspective is unique and easy for me to understand; the tumor is way gone, he did a great job! The fact that the surgery left me in dire straights might be inconsequential or collateral damage, you know, the cost of doing business. I have a few questions for him but no high hopes or great expectations from Dr. Aliabadi. I’m sure he believes my surgery was a total success, from his standpoint, it was. He’s really, really, thorough if there is something tangible out there, he’s probably heard about it.

Plus, it's a rare opportunity for me to look at someone on the cutting edge of neurology and say without irony, "What the Hell, dude?"  Or, absent that, getting my husband to say it for me.

OK, here's another potential distraction that has got all kinds of peoples' underwear in all kinds of bunching:  Some poor Congressman I have never heard of said something unintentionally hilarious about "Legitimate  Rape",  I mean, where do you even start with that?  I feel sorry for that doofus!

Abbey Normal

Hi there! I'm still looking for the perfect title for this blog, all suggestions will be equally considered. I like the current title. It pays homage to the worst human being produced in many centuries and my long-time fascination with that individual and his minions, and the origin of some of my problems (I mean the kopf/head part, not necessarily the Hitler part). I didn't come up with it and I've always thought it to be a little too Teutonic, I've got actual Germans writing to me, in German because they think I am German too! Nein!  Nein! Ich bin ein Russischer! Just kidding about the Russian part but I am hearing from a lot of dudes from the fatherland and in the mother tongue.

Magnetic Resonance Imaging - Unchanged Since 1985

8/18/12
Hi there!  Let's talk about MRI's.  I have  been told that MRI's will be a permanent fixture in my life.  I hate them.  I'm really claustrophobic and there is nothing in nature that sounds like that.  I never get used to the noise, it's really loud, for 20 plus minutes.  I am in a narrow tube all alone, if I falter, I have to start all over again.  So, I never, ever, falter.  Since I have (Thank God) long finished Radiation and Chemotherapy, a MRI every so often, shouldn't be any big deal, right?  Wrong.  They are scheduled just far enough apart so you forget just how loud and obnoxious the process is.  And long.  It's nobody's fault, I have always been fairly phobic, but being inside a big, noisy, tube has brought that fear into focus.  Realizing that many people feel something akin to my feelings where being locked into a noisy tube is concerned,  the lab I go to offered tranquilizers, which I gratefully accepted.  I was a nervous wreck anyway and they gave me 10mg, or one tiny pill of Ativan.  Now Ativan, (or Lorazepam) apparently sedates a lot of people, it has the opposite effect on me.  Not only am I extra sensitive, I'm also bat-shit crazy with Ativan.  I took the little, sad, pill, thinking the professionals knew what they were talking about (they did not know me, or anyone like me).  So I was keenly aware of how entombed I was, every noise was amplified and the minutes crawled by.  That I have to repeat this process at least annually, probably more often puts me in a panic!  I've got another one coming up.  And no, Ativan will NOT be on the menu.  18 miles/2 Walks today