I just grow things. The latest was a benign meningioma in the left frontal lobe. It grew slowly for 10 years before causing inflammation and symptoms of dementia which led to it being discovered on a MRI brain scan. It moved my brain over to make room for itself. I think of it as male. I didn’t name him. He grew to the size of a small peach. There is only so much room inside my skull, so it was an easy decision, he had to go. Surgery to remove him was performed by the talented and experienced neurosurgeon, Dr. Theodosopoulos, at the UCSF hospital on Parnassus on August 2nd. I felt that the Greek gods were watching over me after messing around with me for a while, as is their habit with mortals.

Late July-

I just found out he exists after rapidly increasing symptoms prompted my wonderful primary care N.P. Linda Dulong to schedule an MRI of my head early. My loyal friend Stu drove me to the morning appointment. It went smoothly. After the MRI, a kind technician told us stop by the UCSF ER on our way home. ”Something emergent has showed up on your scan.” Of course I was terrified and in shock. So was Stu, I think, but he remained calm as he drove me to the ER and stayed with me most of the day. The next day, we met the surgeon and he showed us the MRI images of the tumor which had first showed up as a tiny thing on a routine MRI years ago. He also explained why he was sure it was benign. I didn’t trust him yet because I heard this story before https://cancerwell.wordpress.com/2011/02/11/poem-pathology-report

I am so glad to find the tumor has heft and volume. Even more glad that it is benign and operable. The surgery is very low risk. I never thought I could be grateful to have a brain tumor, but I am. 

After Surgery-

What is the difference between the meat and the motion in my brain? How do I remember to relearn myself? I have not been a reliable reporter. The loved ones around me have been worried and I’m glad they are getting get some relief too. I wanted change and now I am getting it unbidden. I have no choice but to accept and that helps.

Through this experience, I have learned once again that I am well loved. I hope I don’t forget again how much I have to lose. My heart is cracking open a bit. I am grateful. I am learning to give love in return. I’m singing aloud to my pills.

First song that started floating around in my head.- “ what a day this has been, what a rare mood I’m in. Why it’s almost like being in love. There’s a smile on my face for the whole human race. Why it’s almost like being in love. All the music in life seems to be like a bell that is ringing for me.”

I was lost, a stranger to myself and others. Now my poet’s heart is awakening slowly and teaching me to relearn, reconnect. I just didn’t know what was going on. My friends and loved ones were so worried. They rallied around and protected me. I am so sad I couldn’t share my fears of dementia with myself or them.  I wrapped myself in gauze. Now I’m just starting to open and wrap myself in the cozy comforter  of their love. 

August 19th-

I am making a speedy recovery in spite of more troubles. Today was my Dad’s birthday. Monday morning Aug 16 I fainted in the kitchen and went back to ER for the day. Stu found me after a phone call from Hawaii and could not rouse me or feel my breathing or pulse. He is called the paramedics and laid me on the floor. They arrived in 5 minutes and my path back to consciousness began. It was very scary to Stu and me. He thought I had died. Dr. Theodosopoulos, who we met with next day by video was not worried about me. He’s seen this many times before in people like me and they recovered well. Main obstacle is lack of sleep which can induce seizures. I spent all day in ER being monitored and reminding myself I was in best place to lose consciousness again. Was not allowed any visitors because of COVID protocols

 I feel like healing machine. I have spent so many years crafting a voice. I now know what can be lost how precious it is. I want to use whatever time I have left to tell my stories, to honor what I’ve learned from those who live near the edge, those who know loss and yet go on.