Where the farg have I been...?



Dear You,



I didn't want to tell you. I knew you wouldn't take it well. You would get all dramatic and think bad things and I just didn't want to deal.



I mean, I had my own stuff going on.



The shortest version of my somewhat long tale is that technically I have a tumor in my brain.



No, I'm not making that up.



I told you you would get upset.



The longer version is... My mother has a disease known as Neurofibromatosis 2 (aka NF2). She has had this for quite some time and dealt with all of its fun-filled action without knowing that this was the word for it. She had her own brain tumors back in the 70's/80's and their subsequent removal left her with no hearing, facial paralysis, poor speech, vision and decidedly crappy balance issues. When we found out that the condition was genetic, she also learned that the way to screen for it was through annual hearing exams.

And the nagging began.

I had my first hearing test in 2004. Everything was fine and the doctor said that I could probably get by with a bi-annual screening. When I visited again in 2006, there were some concerns and he decided that annual was better. Good thing because this year's exam showed a slight dip in my hearing. Very slight. Something one could obtain after being to one too many rock concerts and something that would not have been of major concern if not for the genetic predisposition to NF2. He ordered an MRI and I went for that shortly after.

I gotta tell you, I'm pretty naive. It really did not occur to me that I would have these tumors. The idea just didn't even enter my head as a possibility. I don't know why. I have had other tumors, I have always known this was a possibility. But, there you go. So, when I went to the doctor and he gave me the results, I was stunned. Speechless. I tried to ask questions, but I was really just too confused to pursue them. So stunned was I that when he first told me, I didn't even realize that he was saying they were bilateral -- I thought there was only one. It was just inconceivable to me. Which, as we learned from the Princess Bride, "you keep using this word -- I do not think it means what you think it does."

Anyways. I called Scott on the way home from the results. I didn't mean to tell him over the phone but I was just so upset. He came home immediately and we decided that the best, most practical immediate response was to get as fucked up as we could.

And we did. It was lovely. We had a maudlin experience discussing how I wanted my funeral to be, lamenting not purchasing long term care insurance, and many other lovely details. (By the way, I do not want to be buried but I do want a marching band playing When the Saints Come Marching in at my funeral. Take care of this, you.)

Yadda, yadda, yadda -- I've been to several specialists and even had an appointment with Scott's aunt who is a hypnotherapist. I have decided to pursue a course of treatment on the larger of the two tumors that is called gamma knife. Basically, I have a helmet screwed into my head, another MRI is done to get the exact location of the tumor and gamma radiation will be directed at the tumor to prevent growth and encourage retardation. Of the tumor, not me. The smaller of the tumors, we will watch and see what happens. If there is no growth pattern, then that will be the action for time to come. If not, then I intend to pursue gamma again if it is successful on the larger tumor.

There are risks with all courses of treatment, but gamma radiation only bears the risk of not wanting me to be angry. You won't like me when I'm angry -- I get green and my clothes rip off...

Just kidding. Scott hopes.

Anyways, so that is what I wanted to tell you. I know that you will take it hard. It's a hard thing to take. I get that. But you don't have to be overly nice or whatever, I just have a brain tumor.

You probably think that explains a lot anyways. :)

Let me know if you have any questions -- just comment here.

love,

Me