thank you
I finished the next portion of the story of my life and so I share the first and last paragraphs:
Fear and recovery
Reflections on surviving a
Brain Tumor
He stood there, tall and thin with wire glasses that
looked dark against his pale skin. He
was the "best" neurosurgeon in the area and in his white doctor's
coat, he exuded confidence. He had a MRI
scan in his hands and he looked down, as if studying what he had already study
many times, for the first time. I did
not see a neurosurgeon, nor even a doctor, rather I saw a judge and in his coat
was not white nor a coat, it was a dark robe.
In his hands was the verdict he was prepared to hand down, for some
infraction I did not commit.
He looked down at the scan, looked up, and spoke;
"It is a tumor, it is against your brain stem, it has to come
out." I stood stunned as if I had
just been sentenced to the executioner's guillotine. He must have seen the blood drain from my face for he looked down
at the picture in his hand again and looked up; "Yes, it has to come
out. The sooner the better. I am away next week, but we will schedule
for the following week. I have to be
here after the operation."
Fear, deep, gripping fear rose up inside of me and
all I could do was nod my head, yes.
Was there some one outside waiting for me? I could not remember.
The doctor interrupted my train of thought and said;
"I need to get one more MRI, just to make sure I get all of
the...". He pronounced some word
that was gibberish to me, I assumed it was the name for the type of tumor and
he continued; "The doctor who did the MRI thinks it is...". Again, a meaningless, unpronounceable word,
which sounded exactly like the first world, but he continued; "but I think
he is wrong." I asked him about
the headaches, the ones that brought me to his office in the first place.
... and the last portion:
I would love to say that everything continued
without mishap, until I fully recovered, but this is an adventure and
adventures are full of ups and downs, missteps, mishaps and misdirection and my
adventure of recovery is not an exception.
A cloud of fear lingers still around my thoughts, a
fear of going to that place of shadow where my mind was of no use, but never
more do I have a fear of death.
As I wobble on my feet, like an old man, when I
stumble and fall; or not fall, or when my eyes become strained and the glasses
no longer correct my vision and all I see is double, my heart becomes troubled
and I waver on the path that is my adventure.
It is at these times, and there are many, those closest to me, those of
my community who are my family, help me back onto my feet to continue.
My life has changed, whether I accept it or not, I
have left the job, the one where I found so much joy and moved on.
My road to recovery continues, for it is not
finished.
There is not an end, but something new each day,
encompassing the rest of my life.
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