The doctor wouldn't let me keep even a small piece of the parts of my tumor that he was able to remove. He said even if he could give it to me, it had the consistency of oatmeal. I always imagined it being more like a rubber bouncy ball.
So the good news is
oh, yes. I wasn't part of the <.1% that die during surgery. I know I should be more grateful.
The bad news is that I'll be back in three months for what appears to be some kind of awfulness. Not even my pain meds can ease the dread of what's probably yet to come.
As you can tell, I'm feeling pretty emotional and sharing. I probably was all along, but my tumor probably repressed my need to share my emotions. So if I start crying on the phone or getting all emotional on you, it's not because something terrible is going to happen, it's because something amazing has been taken away.
Here's goodbye to my Vulcan self.
And always remember, Dirtbiking Saves Lives.