I just finished weeding my garden. I needed a distraction. Life is great, my family is amazing, my friends are insanely wonderful, the weather is fantastic, and yet I'm starting to feel the twitch of this next MRI.
I've been working out, although not as much as I had been. I'm seeking comfort foods like goat cheese and grapes (just like potato chips, you can't stop at one). Neither of which should be consumed in the quantities that I have been.
You know, it's actually a double edged sword, this MRI. On one hand I'm excited by the idea of a clean scan. It would mean that the headaches, spot heat in different locations around my brain, pressure, and things of that nature are all completely normal. I can chalk it all up to healing. It would be incredible to be able to ignore a lot of the symptoms. On the other hand, if I don't receive a clean scan, I don't know if I'll ever be able to relax when I have pain, heat, or pressure.
Last week while at the UW, I requested a few records from my file. I was looking for my actual diagnosis and pathology. When we were selecting the proper paperwork we received a printout from the emergency brain surgery. It was a play-by-play. That was a rough one to read. I knew I didn't have to read it, but it was impossible to stop. Highlights include, exuded under pressure, bone flap, myocutaneous flap, stab...I think you know where I was going with that. Anyway, no wonder I had such a horrible headache from that surgery. The first surgery wasn't that bad.
Here's the official diagnosis: Infiltrating Astrocytoma, WHO grade 2
(There are multiple types of infiltrating astrocytomas, and we're digging through the pathology to determine more information.)
This stuff is heavy, and I can't completely understand what's being said. Danny and I try to read, and research the terms, but it's exhausting. Maybe I need to put off the research for a bit.
In the coming weeks I've got all kinds of fun things planned (book club, marathon relay, girls slumber party - you're never too old!). I know I won't be bored. I'll practice sleeping (for example, last Saturday night I slept for 16 hours). I'll laugh. I'll live. I'll remind myself that the results are out of my control. Already, that last sentence just gave me a huge sigh of relief. Just breathe and enjoy every moment. That's my new mantra.
