To be.

I hit a big wall yesterday afternoon. It's a long story but the end is that I sobbed for a good half hour. I said "I can't do this" over and over a million times and I doubted everyone who has called me brave because the truth is maybe I've just been in naive denial til now. I have no hobbies that are the same, I do not recognize myself in a mirror, I do not feel like the same person. 

Here's a Central Park bench I colored because I needed something real and tangible to swap in: 

Questions I want to ask my surgeon McDermott (whom we affectionately call McDizzle) on June 3 at my check-up:
1. What color was the tumor?
2. Where is the tumor now?
3. What shape did they cut in my skull? A square, I think, but I'm not sure.
4. Will the bumps on my scar fade and smooth out? 
5. Has anyone ever had 2 meningiomas in their life?
6. Do titanium screws affect you at all? 

If I decide to be cremated when I die in 200 years, will the titanium screws be among the ashes? I won't ask him that, too morbid, but I do wonder.

If anyone decides to do Hamlet with my scull one day, it's going to look very modern.

1 comment:

Jayne Bingler said...

Do they do a biopsy on the tumour tissue?