Well, in an unusual turn of events, it appears as though the dh has a rather rare brain tumor called an ependymoma. When he found out I started combing the net, researching and digging up the worst possible information. When someone has a dangerous brain tumor, this is probably the last thing you should do. But to me, I'd rather know than not know. It's a strategy that doesn't work for everyone.
I've been telling him for years he should have his head examined, and he finally did. The MRI shows a tumor the size of...a tangerine? A small orange? Something bigger than a clementine, but smaller than a grapefruit. Something in the citrus family.
Maybe a sports ball comparison would be better. Maybe a baseball? A hockey puck?
It's hard to tell, really, but the thing is big, and it's right there in the back of the head, close to the brain stem.
It needs to come out.
So he has surgery on Friday, before Christmas. The outcome is uncertain. He could be up and about in a couple of weeks. He could end up in rehab. He could lapse into a coma.
Of course, the best way to deal with this, as with all other catastrophes and misfortunes that befall us from time to time, is with seriously dark humor, which hides a cautious optimism.
Consequently, there is an upside to this: I've successfully bailed out of making Christmas dinner for 12. Yay!
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4 comments:
Man, some people will do anything to get out of making holiday dinner!
H.
lol! Well, when dinner went from 6 to 12, and then to 13...I had to come up with something.
Oh, man, that's awful. My step father just had a tumor removed (he's 84). He's lost some vision from the operation, but it had to be done.
Good luck.
Yeah, I don't really want to dwell on this depressing stuff on the blog, but I thought it significant enough to warrant a slight mention. I'll try to stay focused on the irreverent.
Thanks.
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