You Just Couldn't Say Good-bye

It has been almost a month since I had my follow-up to the follow-up MRI to check the status of Mike Wazowski and his residence in my brain. If you follow this blog or you know me, you know that in September of 2015 I was diagnosed with a tumor on my pituitary gland. A tumor that even the neurosurgeon described as HUGE. From the MRI pictures you could see that the tumor was a big round circle with a smaller darker circle inside of it. The smaller circle looked like an eye, so I "lovingly" named the tumor Mike Wazowski. In July of 2016 I found out that after surgery, Mike was still hanging out, at least part of him, and he had brought along a friend, a cyst growing in the exact same place where Mike had been evicted. Surgery number 2 in November 2016, Follow-up MRI in February of 2017, and finally, Follow-up to the follow-up just last month. The good news is the cyst is gone. The other news, I won't call it bad, is that Mike has left a little piece of himself with me. I knew this right after my second surgery. There was a little piece of the tumor attached to a blood vessel in my brain. As I'm sure you can imagine, that's pretty delicate stuff. The neurosurgeon couldn't just go ripping things off of a blood vessel, and so Mini Mike was allowed to stay with the understanding that his blood supply would be cut off, and he would be getting a weekly dose of Cabergoline, a drug that inhibits his growth. Just last week I saw my neurosurgeon to find out how Mini Mike was dealing with these terms. Here's the good news about the "not bad" news. Mini Mike hasn't invited anyone else in, and he hasn't gotten any bigger. He's just staying right where he was, away from my optic nerves and anything else that might cause me trouble. Dr. Sahni, my neurosurgeon, and I decided to just let Mini Mike stay, and, for now, we would extend his conditional lease for another 6 months. Did I want him to move out totally? Absolutely, but I guess he just couldn't say Good-bye, and, for now, I'll indulge him as long as he goes by the rules.

What a Long Strange Trip It's Been!

Well, it's about that time again. Time to update you on the status of the eviction of Mike Wasowski and his "Cysta." It has now been exactly 4 months since I had my second surgery to try to kick Mike Wasowski to the curb.
Quick Timeline of Events to this point: 
September 2015 - Can't see images in eye test. 1st Doc gives Dx of Macular Degeneration
                              Get second opinion. 2nd Doc discovers NO PERIPHERAL VISION thru Field                                  of Vision test. Suspects Pituitary Tumor affecting Optic Nerves. Referral to 
                              Neurosurgeon.
October 2015 -     MRI
                              Results show huge tumor taking up the space in the Brain called the Cella.                                        Immediate surgery is suggested.
                             I wait 2 weeks until my show closes
October 27, 2015 - Surgery to remove Tumor (Mike Wasowski)
December 31, 2015 - MRI
March 2016 -    Neurosurgeon breaks the news that there is some tumor left.
July 2016     -    MRI
September 2016 - Neurosurgeon tells me a cyst has developed where the tumor used to be. I will                                  need surgery AGAIN
                            2nd Field of Vision test shows cyst is already affecting vision
November 2, 2016 - 2nd surgery to remove leftover tumor and cyst. 
February 2017 - MRI

Which brings us to today. Well, there is good news and, well, not bad news, but not the "Yay! I'm rid of Mike forever!" news I'd hoped for. On February 20th I went to my wonderful Opthalmologist, Dr. Juan Astruc, the man responsible for diagnosing me correctly, and, not to be over dramatic, but for saving my eyesight and maybe my life. Another Field of Vision test, my third. My peripheral vision has returned 100% in both of my eyes. I am thrilled. He was too! You never really realize how much you use your peripheral vision until you lose it. Definitely encouraging news! Which brings me to my next Dr. Visit, Dr. Sahni, my neurosurgeon.
Most of us have lived somewhere for a long period of time, our childhood home or our first home with our spouse. It's hard to leave that to move on. Mike lived in my brain for at least 10 years. You might say he grew up there, and obviously he did not want to leave. Well, this time he's gone, but he left something behind for me to remember him. Truthfully, this memento was left from the very first surgery, but I had forgotten until I spoke with Dr. Sahni this past Tuesday. My daughter reminded me on the way home. Going back to post 1st surgery, there was a tiny bit of the tumor attached to a blood vessel. As you can imagine, that is a delicate situation. You don't just go cutting away next to something that could potentially cause a hemorrhage in your brain. After the 2nd surgery, I went on a prescription drug called Cabergoline. One of the uses for this drug is to suppress the growth of pituitary tumors: A.K.A. Mike Wasowski. Here's the not-so-great news: Mike isn't totally gone, but here's the good news: The memento he left behind hugging my blood vessel is shrinking thanks to my superhero, CABERGOLINE! Envision really buff guy in tights and a cape with a big "C" on his chest. 
So, where does this leave me in my saga with Mike Wasowski? We have not totally parted ways, and in June, I will have yet another MRI. If what's left behind is still shrinking, YAY! If not, or it's grown at all, we may have to go the radiation route, but I'm crossing that bridge when I come to it. For now I'm celebrating my restoration of vision and all the supportive friends and family I have on this wild ride!

Not What I Expected

Well, ladies and gentlemen, tomorrow will mark a week since round 2 of brain surgery. Before going in last week, I thought, this won't be as bad. At least I know what to expect this time. I got through it before without many issues, this should be the same....right? As my drama teacher used to say when we flippantly assumed something, "WRONG!" Yes, I was going in for the same procedure, a transsphenoidal hypophysectomy, something my nurses must not have known right away while prepping me for surgery last Wednesday morning because they kept talking about someone coming in to do my fiducicials - something used to help in surgery if it were being done cranially. It wasn't, and, thank God, they figured that out. They rolled me down to do a CT, then an MRI before I ever went into surgery. I don't remember much after that. It was probably around 9:30 in the morning when surgery finally began. I probably woke up in recovery around 8pm that night. Yes, if you read anything previous to this, it was MUCH longer. Why?, you may ask. Well, they removed as much of the leftover tumor from last year and drained and removed the cyst that had developed, and closed me up. Then they wheeled me into the MRI room, while still under anesthesia to check to see if anything else was left. There was. Back to the operating room to open me back up and do a little more house cleaning, essentially 2 procedures for the price of 1. So, about 11 hours later, surgery was over. This compared to approximately 5 hours last year. What does that matter?, you might say. I am finding a whole hell of a lot. First of all, my throat hurt terribly from having the intubation tube in it for so long. This made swallowing almost excruciating. Consequently, this made eating extremely difficult. Added to that, just like before, my entire nose and nasal cavity was packed. No breathing through the nose. If you've ever had sinus issues and been all stopped up, you know what it's like trying to eat and breathe at the same time. Sleeping was a whole other issue. The first night I woke up every 10 minutes as breathing through my mouth caused EXTREME dryness. The roof of my mouth also hurt from the intubation tube, so trying to close my mouth and swallow with next to no saliva was a real chore. The next night got a little better. I only woke up every 20 minutes, and by the third day I actually took a nap sitting up for almost an hour. By Saturday I was allowed to come home, but to my disappointment, I still had to keep my nose packed until Monday. I was devastated. Last time, my surgery was on Tuesday, and my packing came out on Friday. I guess it could have had something to do with the fact that they actually rooted around twice in there and had to make sure healing was well on its way. Finally, joy of joys!, yesterday (Monday) my packing came out. You cannot know how happy I was, aside from the fact that it feels like your brain is really coming out through your nose. I CAN BREATHE AGAIN! I am still sleepier than normal, and my throat still hurts, but things are getting better day by day. I will have a follow up visit with my neurosurgeon on November 29th. After that I will have an MRI in mid January to see if everybody is finally OUT. Spoiler Alert: It seems there is some that is attached to a blood vessel, and I may still need Gamma Knife Surgery (pinpointed radiation) to remove that, but we will cross that bridge if we come to it. For now, I am thinking that Mike and his "cysta" are finally gone, and I will continue to heal. Thank you all for your good thoughts, prayers and surrounding me with love and light. I am not out of the woods yet, but I'm in a nice clearing for now.

What've They Got That I Ain't Got?

It was exactly  a year ago that I headed down to Johnston Willis Hospital in the dark to have a tumor removed from my brain. I didn't know what to expect. Was there going to be a lot of pain? How would I feel afterward? Anesthesia makes me nauseous. What if I got sick after surgery? If I wasn't allowed to sneeze, I am sure it would not be good if I had to throw up after the surgery. All these questions. But... I wasn't worried, and I guess this is what this post is about. I don't worry about things like this. They are what they are, and whatever happens is going to happen, and there's not a whole hell of a lot I can do about it. A week from tomorrow on November 2nd I will be making the same trip to the hospital for the exact same procedure. If you read this blog, you know the details. I am not worried. Again, it is what it is. This has to be done. Let's do it. Friday night I was talking to a friend, and she made the statement, "You're being so brave." I don't see myself that way. I guess it may look that way to others, but I see bravery as the person who runs into the burning building, the policeman, the fireman, the cop, the soldier, not me.
“Bravery is a willing decision to do what must be done. Fear is a cancer that is cured only by doing what must be done, backed by an intelligent, open mind.” 
― Corey Aaron Burkes
There is no choice in this matter. What is the use in worrying? I have friends and family and even strangers who are praying for me and surrounding me with light and love. What could be better? I have a faith that God will take care of me in His way as He sees fit, and who am I to question His motives?  Do I want to do this again? Am I happy about it? Make no mistake on how I feel about that one. No, I do not want to do it again! But I am, and that's really life, isn't it, doing things we don't want to do because they have to be done mixed with things that bring us joy? Whatever you are facing, big or small, find your courage in knowing it has to be done and moving forward. And do not compare your problems with others. Suffering is relative. The next time someone tells you, "It could be worse," or "At least it's not______." Smack them in the mouth, well, maybe just smile and say, "You're right," while envisioning smacking them in the mouth. Just because someone else is going through something worse than you are, does not make you feel better. You have the strength to get through. A little worse for the wear on the other side, but also wiser, and better for getting through it. See you on the other side.

And So, Here I Am Again.

I am relatively sure that if a survey were taken of several hundred people asking them to list 10 things they feel uncomfortable or embarrassed doing, I would bet that asking for help would appear somewhere on that list. No one wants to ask for help. It starts when we are little and learning to walk. We want to do it ourselves. Then in grade school we don't raise our hand to ask a question or say that we don't understand the material for fear of being judged or thought of as stupid. As we become adults we find it hard to ask for help when we are struggling because society has taught us that we must learn to stand on our own 2 feet. Asking for any kind of help is hard, but when money is the issue, it becomes unbearable! 

Almost exactly a year ago I found myself in a situation I never thought I would be in. I had been diagnosed with a brain tumor, technically a pituitary tumor, but it was in the middle of my brain, so brain surgery was required. I had lost ALL of my peripheral vision because the tumor was pressing on my optic nerves. I had no idea how I was going to afford the astronomical medical costs and loss of wages that having this surgery would cause. And before you ask, yes I do have insurance, but 30% of a $229,000 hospital bill, even when it is cut down to the "reasonable and customary" charge was something this single mom could not even fathom of how to come up with the money to pay. I am not an extravagant person. I never really have been, but when I became the single mother of 2 girls ages 2 and 5, frugal became my middle name. I have no savings as eating was more important to us. We rarely take vacations because we can't afford them. I am not saying all this to solicit a pat on the back. I want to share that I am not a frivolous person when it comes to money. See, there's that fear of being judged rearing it's ugly head. Last year my youngest daughter started a GoFundMe page to help with my medical expenses and to help with my loss of wages while I was recovering. I was humbled to say the least. Friends and strangers came to my aid. I was so grateful. Never in a million years would I have thought last year that I would be going through all this again, but I am. The Reader's Digest version is that there was some of the tumor left. When the neurosurgeon describes the tumor as "huge" you know it must have been a bear. I knew that eventually I might have to have that removed if it grew, but about a month ago I was devastated to learn that I had now developed a cyst in the same area, and it is already affecting my vision. This has changed everything. I was planning to wait so I could save up vacation and sick time to avoid loss of wages. Maybe I could save a little money or get a part time job to bank some to help with expenses, but now I am right back in the same boat and can't do either of those things because of the quick pace at which we have to move to get the tumor and cyst out. My surgery is scheduled for November 2nd. Added to that they are doing the procedure this time with an "inter-operative MRI" to make sure ALL of the tumor is gone before I come out of the operating room. I found out today that because of that I will need an additional MRI before I go into surgery to make sure that process runs smoothly. I am still trying to find the money to pay for the MRI done last summer that revealed the cyst. Just to give you an idea, each MRI costs me $750.00. The hospital bill will cost into the thousands, and because of recovery time, I may lose anywhere from $500.00 to $1000.00 in wages, not to mention that last year my "disability" income did not even get approved until well after I had returned to work. As we all know, bills don't wait. they are due when they are due. I'm not going to go on and on, and I am not trying to make this sound like a sob story. The long and short of it is that I am asking for help again. I wish I didn't have to, and if I win Publisher's Clearing House, I will make sure to let everyone know and give any GoFundMe money to charity, but until that happens, I will need money to hopefully get this thing in my brain to leave and STAY GONE this time. 

I know so many of you that read this blog helped me last time, and I will never be able to tell you how grateful I was and still am. Let me say thank you in advance to anyone who chooses to help now, and my greatest wish is that some day I will be in the financial position to pay it forward 1000 times over. The link to the page is above, but I will post it here again. Thank you. I love you all!

https://www.gofundme.com/b26dhnqu# 

Mike's "Cysta" is Already a Problem Tennant

Back in the middle of July I wrote an entry with an update on my tumor (Mike Wazowski). I know several of you have been following my progress through this whole tumor/brain surgery ordeal that started a little less than a year ago. Wow! That's hard to believe that it's been almost a year since the exisitence of Mike was first discovered. So much has happened in these last 10 months. When one is told that they have a tumor it strikes a chord. No matter what is said after that, you have this initial feeling of dread. It is probably because we've watched too many scenes in movies or on TV where the hero or heroine fights bravely to the death with a brain tumor, we instantly think CANCER. Mine was not cancer. It was never thought to be cancer, but knowing that, I almost took it too lightly at first. Even after everything was removed, (well, not everything) I felt fine, by my standards. I have my granfather's "shake it off" constitution, so I thought I'm feeling fine. It's all over, and even if there is something hanging around, I can live with it until it poses a threat. I had made all mylittle plans of waiting until May to have my surgery. Afterall that fits better with my schedule, and I can bank enough time at work to be able to take the month needed to recover at full salary instead of 2/3 or, worse, days with no salary at all. NEWSFLASH: Threat posed! Last week I saw Dr. Astruc, the eye specialist who first caught the problem, for a routine follow-up. Part of the follow-up was a field of vision test as I had had the previous 2 visits since Mike had mostly affected my peripheral vision. I was a little worried when I took the eye test, you know the one with the letters, and my right eye was acting the same way it had when all this mess started but not as bad. The last letter in the line was invisible, not the last 2. But, as we tend to do as humans, I rationalized. It's dark in here. Maybe I have something in my eye, etc., etc. Then I went to take the field of vision test, and we started the process of staring down the long tunnel and clicking the plastic piece in my hand every time I saw a flash of light. Back to the examining room to wait for Dr. Astruc. As he looked at the results compared with my results in May, I didn't hear what I wanted to hear. Left eye? PERFECT! Right eye? Another dark spot has appeared. Well, CRAP! He said that he thought the cyst was probably causing that, but he would send the report to Dr. Sahni, my neurosurgeon, and he would make the determination of how to proceed. I saw Dr. Astruc on a Wednesday, and Thursday morning I got a call from Dr. Sahni. To summarize: My plans to wait until May went out the window. In fact, when I told Dr. Sahni I wanted to wait until then, he chuckled and said, "No, you cannot wait until then." So as it stands now, I am shooting for the first week of November, almost exactly where I was a year ago. I'm not thrilled, but it is what it is. What else am I going to do? This time they will do what Dr. Sahni called an Inter-operative MRI. That means they will do the MRI while I am still under to make sure EVRYONE vacates! I can tell you one thing. Mike's not getting his security deposit back!

Mike Wazowski Has a Friend, and It's not Sully

It's a lovely Saturday morning. I am sitting here in my new house enjoying the little Florida room in the back, one of the features that really sold me on moving in. It's quiet. All I can hear right now are the sounds of nature and my kitty, Lacy purring beside me. I have needed this all week, and I am glad just to sit here and enjoy the "downtime." It's been a crazy week, folks. First of all, we are moving into a new building at work. Statistics state that moving, of any kind, ranks third in stressful life events, ranking only behind death and divorce.  This is the second time I'm moving in the span of just 2 months. Add to that, uncertainty about the move at work. We are all packed only to find out the move date has changed.  So there's that. Then I get my cleaning deposit back from my previous move, something I have been looking forward to so I can shop for a sofa, to find it is 1/10 of what I deposited, I was livid, but that's another blog post. Then last Thursday was my day to see the neurologist to find out the results of my follow up MRI to see if my friend Mike Wazowski had grown back. Well, here's the scoop. Mike doesn't seem to have grown, but a friend has moved in with him. In looking at the most recent films, the conclusion is that I have now developed a cyst in the area Mike used to reside called the Cella. The best way I can describe the location is the space between the two hemispheres of your brain. The cyst is at the top of this space, and what Mike left behind is at the bottom. I am in no imminent danger, not like things were before when Mike took up the entire space and then some, but here is the disappointing news I received. I must have the same procedure all over again to drain and remove the cyst, and while we're in there will make sure that Mike has totally vacated his space. I was less than thrilled to hear that. I just wanted to be done with all of it, and I know that many will say, but at least it's not cancer, and it could be worse, and 1000's of other attempts at what they feel are comforting words, but the fact remains that for the second time in the span of a year, I am going to have to have brain surgery, and IT SUCKS!!! It's the exact same surgery, with the exact same recovery time which means loss of time from work and more money that I don't have. And before you ask, yes, I have insurance, but paying 30% of a $229,000 hospital bill, even after insurance knocks it down to their allowable charge is still an expense I can't afford, and yes, I know I can set up a payment plan, but I don't have any EXTRA. That's the facts, plain and simple people. Right now, it sounds like I am throwing myself a pity party. I'm not! I write this blog to be honest about the way I feel and think. Part of the reason I do that, especially with something like this, is because I want other people who are going through this or something like it to read this and say, hey, I feel like that too. I'm not alone out here going through my crisis. Somebody understands the way I feel.
So, plan of action, for those who are curious. I will wait, which my doctor says is ok this time, until I can earn enough vacation and sick time to cover the month it will take to do this. That will help with a little of the financial dark cloud. So we are probably looking at early 2017. Until then, Mike and his new roommate better behave, there's no vacancy in Hotel Cella!

Obligatory New Year Title

This post will be dated January 2, 2016, but I am actually writing it before I go to sleep on New Year's Day. Somehow that seems to be indicative of my life in 2015, not quite able to do things exactly when they needed to be done. What I seemed to learn from that this year is that things don't always work out, and adjustment is the name of the game. There were several firsts for me in 2015. I began the year in rehearsals for a college production of "Funny Girl," playing Mrs. Brice. I never went to college, so this was a new experience for me. I must say it would have been much easier if I had been college age. To put it mildly, they work you to death, lots of long rehearsal hours. I was hired as a costumer for the first time for a community theater production of one of my favorite Neil Simon comedies, "Come Blow Your Horn." I really enjoyed doing it. I must not have done too bad a job because I was asked to costume the show that followed. The adjustment here was that I was also performing in a show that was opening the same weekend as the one I was costuming. Note to self: Never do that again! Luckily, my youngest was helping me, and took over when I couldn't be there anymore. The biggest "first" for me in 2015 was brain surgery, not a metaphor, actual brain surgery. If you read this blog you know that I had a pituitary tumor removed the end of October. Talk about adjustment! The neurosurgeon said that the tumor had probably been growing for 10 years. Of course you want something like that out of your body, but there are all kinds of things that happen once it's out that you don't think about. More adjustments, adjustments mostly to hormonal changes. I never really bothered to think about what the tumor was doing to my pituitary gland as the vision changes because of the pressure on my optic nerve are what led to the discovery, but the pituitary gland controls all the hormones and body temperature and all kinds of other things. For instance I still don't have my full sense of smell back, and randomly I will start smelling fresh paint. I have hot flashes, and other menopausal type things. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt. All in all I'm certainly thankful to have the tumor gone, but I wonder how long I will need to adjust. I ended the year and will begin 2016 with another first. I auditioned actors for my first foray into directing professionally. I am excited about this one, but also anxious as I adjust to sitting behind the table and not being on stage.
2016 will hold the biggest first for not only me, but my whole family. My oldest will graduate college in May. She will be the first ever to do so in our family. I am so proud of all she is doing and will do. Because I work for the University she attends, I will actually get to hand her her diploma. There will be much adjustment made that day as I try to keep it together in the awesome emotion of that moment. I am sure there will be many more issues that arise from the aftermath of brain surgery in 2016, but I have a ton of supportive fiends and an amazing family to help me through. I know I can face it well adjusted! Happy New Year!

Some Days Are Diamonds. Some Days Are Stones.

It is hard to believe that 2 weeks ago I had brain surgery to remove a "huge" tumor. Thinking back on everything that has happened since September 30th, it seems I'm watching some Lifetime movie. I just thought I was getting older, and I was becoming, at 51, one of those people who doesn't like to drive at night. I just don't see as well. Then going to the eye doctor and being told I had the beginning stages of an incurable disease that would, eventually, leave me blind. Through urgings from others getting a second opinion and finding out that I do not have said disease, but I do have a brain tumor. And now, 2 weeks past surgery, and I am dealing with the aftermath. I have had my share of life changing events starting with infancy. Not even a month after I was born, I choked on some milk and stopped breathing. There were no infant CPR classes in 1963. My father did not know what to do. I do not know how long I was not breathing but finally after my father held me upside down, I began to breathe. When I was 11 years old I was in a car accident where the back window exploded in my face. I had over 100 stitches in my forehead, nose, eyelid and under my eye. Years of plastic surgery would follow. I lost a child before it was ever born. But this brain tumor thing. This has been the hardest to get used to. The hardest part for me is that it didn't seem that hard. The surgery, the recovery in the hospital, the trip home, they didn't seem to carry the weight that BRAIN SURGERY should get. Don't get me wrong. It's not easy. I haven't slept through the night since surgery. I wake up about every hour. I have headaches every morning. My nose feels like it will never be normal again. And then there's the hot flashes I have been having. You see, when all this started, I thought of nothing but the fact that this tumor, because of its placement, was messing with my vision, but what I didn't think about was the fact that it was also growing on my pituitary gland which controls all kinds of things in your body like temperature and metabolism and blood pressure. So now, I must see an Endocrinologist to see how out of whack my pituitary gland got over the last 10 years as this tumor took up residence between the 2 lobes of my brain and crowded out and squeezed the little pea sized gland that controls so much in my body. I have no idea what path this journey will take me on or where I'll end up, but I'm glad to be alive, and I'm learning to not beat myself up just because I haven't bounced right back to where I was. I'll take the diamonds when they come, but remember that navigating the stones is a big part of the journey.

The Art of Recuperating

It has been a week since I had my brain surgery, and today I am not feeling so hot. Nothing awful, just out of sorts. Just to let you know, I am not the type of person who is good at taking it easy, even when I am healthy. People talk about taking vacations to tropical islands and doing nothing but lying on the beach. Paradise, right? Not for me. I might like it for an hour, 2, maybe even half a day, but then I would be itching to go, do and see. So, as you can imagine, this period of recuperation is not easy for me. Add to that having to have little things done for me, and it gets even harder. I have to keep reminding myself I just had major surgery. This isn't like back or abdominal surgery where my body tells me just how far I can go. This is all internal. I might have a mild headache or seem a little tired, but mostly I feel normal, but I can't cough or sneeze or blow my nose. I can't bend over. Do you know how many things you do in everyday life that require you to bend over? Socks, shoes, and forget dropping something. Washing in the shower becomes a delicately choreographed maneuver. I'm trying very hard to follow doctor's rules, and I have 2 "nurses" at home who certainly remind me. I have no idea how you monitor progress. Before last week's removal, this tumor had taken residence for 10 years in my brain. How different will things be? Patience is not my strong suit. I just want things to be normal. I want to cook, and bake, and clean....well...maybe I could go without cleaning for a while. :) Time will tell. I'll see my surgeon in 2 days and see what he has to say. Until then, it's all a waiting game. Day by day. Day by day.

Mike Wazowski Has Left the Building

It is hard to believe that a little over 3 days ago I had brain surgery, and now I am sitting in my living room writing a blog post. Except for a little stuffiness in my nose, leftover from having it packed for 3 days, I feel fine. I'll admit I was a little nervous as Tuesday approached. I had no idea what to expect. I knew surgery would go fine, but I didn't know what I would face when I came out of anesthesia. Truthfully, I never really had any real pain beyond a sinus headache. Actually I had more pain from the numerous times I have been stuck for labs and IV's
It's been such smooth sailing that I cannot believe that I had, in my doctor's own words, a HUGE tumor removed from the middle of my brain. As I talked to Dr. Sahni before I left the hospital today he actually said that he could not believe I was walking around with it without complaining. I cannot tell you why things are going so well. It could be that I heal very well. I have a positive attitude. I have a high tolerance for pain. It could be all of those, but I do know that from the moment I announced I had this hundreds of people have held me in prayer and loving thoughts. I am so thankful for the love and support that everyone has shown to me and my family. I still have a journey ahead. There was a little leakage of spinal fluid, and a little fat was taken from my side to act as a plug. He could have taken all the fat, I don't mind sharing. My biggest challenge right now is taking it easy, not something I'm used to doing, but I am following doctor's orders. It's hard to judge the healing of something internal. I will close for now as I don't want to overdo, but thank you for being with me every step of the way,

Mike Wazowski

Well, ladies and gents, it is 12:20 AM on the day of my surgery. I have eaten my last morsel and drunk my last sip of water. In 5 short hours I will be on my way to the hospital for brain surgery. As the witching hour approaches, it seems surreal. This morning around 8AM I will go to sleep, and when I wake up about 5 hours later, this tumor will be gone. There are so many things I wonder about. How will I feel? What will my vision be like? How much have I just gotten used to? Of course, the big one, how much pain will I feel? I will be honest. I am a tad bit apprehensive. The anticipation is always far worse than the actual event. But tonight as I was riding around taking care of last minute things, something wonderful was happening, My phone was blowing up with friends and family texting and posting to Facebook their loving thoughts and prayers. I went to an event on Sunday night for the Richmond Theatre Community. My night was filled with hugs and squeezes and kisses all wishing me well and surrounding me with love! How can things not go well today? 

You may be wondering about the title of this post. My tumor is pretty round, and it has a small dark spot in the center, an eye, if you will, so I have named it Mike Wazowski, after the character in "Monsters, Inc." Mikey, my friend, time to exit stage right, and forget about a sequel!

See you on the other side, my friends.  

Entertaining Angels Unawares

In about a week from now, hopefully, I will be out of surgery and into recovery, perhaps even in my hospital room in the ICU. I am not nervous now. I know I am in good hands, and I trust my doctor. I can’t tell you how I’ll feel when I leave before dark next Tuesday morning to head to the hospital for the procedure. I have already had a major outpouring of support including some of you who read this blog. Medically, I know I will be fine. I have faith that all will go well. What I am worried about is finances, specifically the cost of all of this and what my insurance WON’T pay, and losing income as I stay home to recover. I had to go in to have all of my pre-op testing done this morning, and when HCA called to schedule, they asked me if I would like to take care of the $500.00 deposit they would require over the phone. I declined, knowing full well they would ask for it this morning, I was a little nervous. It’s embarrassing to tell people you don’t have money. I mean, it’s not like this is elective surgery. Have the tumor removed or go blind. Kind of a no-brainer, no pun intended. So today when I went in, I had 2 scenarios in my head. 1. I will offer them $50.00 and hope they take it or 2. I will cause a scene and tell them that if I walk out of here and drop dead because I have an aneurysm, it’s on them. Luckily, I did not have to employ either of these. I had a wonderful woman named Dee register me today. She asked the obligatory question, “Would you like to take care of the $500.00 deposit today?” I replied, “I don’t have it.” She never missed a beat, and said, “That’s all right. I do see that your surgery is in a week, they will require that it’s paid before they do the procedure.” She then handed me a business card and told me that if I thought the $500.00 would be a problem, I could call and make an arrangement. I instantly felt a peace about everything. She then proceeded to talk about the fact that she knew very few people who could sit down and write out a $500.00 check, thereby making me feel less embarrassed and more normal. Dee was my angel today. I firmly believe that I was called to her booth because God knew I needed her gentle spirit and demeanor today in my situation. I will call, and I will make arrangements, and because Dee guided me today, I will not have the added anxiety of money when I go to have brain surgery next week. So, thank you, Dee, and thank you, God, for sending an angel my way.

It's Not Brain Surgery...Wait! Yes It Is!

The big white spot in the center is the tumor.

On September 9^th I went to the eye doctor. It had been over a year since I had had an exam, and it seemed that more and more issues were coming up with my vision, especially at night. I went for the exam, and if you’ve ever had an eye exam, you know they put this big machine in front of your face that looks like a huge, bionic pair of glasses.

 The room is dark, and they show you on the wall in front of you, about 15 feet away, a strip with four capital letters, black on a white background. They test one eye at a time. First up – the Right eye. I could see the first 2 letters fairly clearly, the last 2 I couldn’t, and when I say I couldn’t, I mean, THEY WERE NOT THERE! Not fuzz, not unclear, ABSENT! I blinked my eyes, and they would appear briefly, but fade away to invisibility. I told the doctor this. He switched to the left eye, same problem, but I could see 3 of the letters, the 4^th pulling the same disappearing act (reading right to left.) We finished the exam. He turned on the lights, and was writing out my prescription, ready to send me on my way. I stopped and said, “Wait a minute! What causes that, the letters disappearing?”

He paused a moment, then decided he might dilate my eyes, and “take a look” I waited for my pupils to dilate, then went back into the room and he looked into my eyes with a light as bright as a thousand suns for what seemed like forever. Then, giving you the Reader’s Digest Condensed Version, he told me even though I was very young to have it, I had the beginning stages of Macular Degeneration. If you don’t know what that is, it is an incurable eye disease that would eventually leave me almost blind, no central vision at all. He told me about some vitamins I could take to help slow down or stop the process, and told me some foods to eat that would help and sent me on my way. As I often do in these life changing moments, I took to Facebook and posted a brief summary of what I just shared. A very good friend, who happens to be an OD, immediately commented, “Get a second opinion.” Shortly after that I was at an event with my sister, and she said, “You need to go see someone else about your eyes.” Ironically they both recommended the same person, Dr. Juan Astruc. I saw him on September 30^th, and after 2 hours of tests and scans, and staring into the light and dilated eyeballs, Dr. Astruc came in to tell me I did not have Macular Degeneration. WHEW! Big sigh of relief! I’m not going blind. Then he said, “The next thing I say is going to freak you out, but don’t let it freak you out. You have a tumor pressing on your optic nerve,” quickly adding, “it’s benign.” YAY!....I have…a tumor!?? Wait. What? He went on to explain that they were common enough that he had the neurosurgeon on speed dial, and that the surgery wouldn’t be invasive, they go in through your nose. I’d need to have an MRI, but it was all treatable and everything would be fine. Fast forward to last Monday, October 12th. I had an MRI and saw the neurosurgeon, Dr. K. Singh Sahni, the next day, and he showed me the films. The tumor is a pituitary tumor and is larger than they thought. It has affected almost all of my peripheral vision, and we have to move pretty quickly, as in less than 2 weeks from today, I will be recovering from brain surgery. Naively when Dr. Astruc told me that they would go in through my nose, I was thinking it might even be outpatient. Boy, were my eyes opened. 4 to 5 days in the hospital, the first night in ICU. I am trying to get used to the idea, and don't know if it has fully hit me yet, but I know all is well, and what is going to happen is going to happen. I'm in good hands. Readers use this as a cautionary tale. If I had not gotten a second opinion, I would be well on my way to going blind, and not because of Macular Degeneration, because the tumor would continue to grow until irreparable damage was done to my optic nerve. Listen to your body, and be your own advocate!