Some Days

There is definitely a system to the sadness: three good days, one bad. I've been trying to jog around Greenlake to make my moods better, and it always works. The hardest step is the first one, out the door. There's a pulse; the path vibrates with heartbeats. I visualize a hum hovering over the runners, the walkers, the strollers, the bikers, a collective sound of conversations and thoughts. It's unintelligible, but that's perfect. Leave everyone with their privacy. 

My next MRI is mocking me, poking me with its' bony, skeletal finger. The last MRI showed some growth. Not enough to do anything, but some growth is too much. Each day, although I know that I have a brain tumor, I wake up and live my life. I walk downstairs, put the tea kettle on the burner, and wait for the whistle. Sometimes I leave the house, and sometimes I don't. Sometimes I take care of emails and important things, but other times I just don't have the energy. Even when I'm exhausted, I still like to think that I'm the same as any other person my age, but the truth is that I'm not. 

I am too tired to work. I'm too tired to take care of lots of things in my life. It is too much to deal with bills and email, and stuff. I'm sad that I can't do all of the everything I used to. I'm sad that I have a new version of normal. My head hurts. I'm scared. Some days I'm carefree, and others, like today, I'm just sad. 

It's hard to win this game. 

Lopsided Unicorn

I've been doing too much and it always catches up with me. Two days ago, I couldn't get out of bed. I was too exhausted. Brain tumors suck. It always works like this. As long as I get 12+ hours of solid sleep each night, I can function really well. If I get less than 12 hours, my head throbs constantly, I'm exhausted, I'm dizzy, my mind's cloudy, and I am unable to function. I'm not even capable of reading a book, it's too tiring. The worst part, is that I'm unable to nap when I'm at my worst. I just look like a zombie, shuffling to the bathroom and back to bed. I swivelled to the foot of the bed so that I could stare at bingie my gray cat. Luckily, he sleeps all day so I had company.

When I'm doing well, and I'm rested, I feel like I can conquer the world. I'm ready to try and take buses, or walk around the lake, even cook a new recipe, but when I crash, I really crash. It's exhausting.

Also, when I'm exhausted, and without enough sleep, the screw in the front of my skull hurts more severely. I can't remember if I've mentioned the fact that I have a screw loose. Literally. I started noticing it in May. At first my oncologist's nurse said it was a ball of nerve endings, not a screw, but I had a feeling she was wrong. I kept telling Danny that it's a screw, and it's going to get worse. When I went to the headache specialist in July, she said it was noticeably the screw from the brain surgery. Apparently, my body is slowly rejecting it. The only thing they can do is another surgery, but at this point I feel I'm better off managing the pain by getting enough sleep and using over the counter medication.

I never thought that the screws would come loose. I assumed that surgery was a one time deal, or until tumor growth. Apparently, according to my doctors, it's very common to have your body reject screws, it's just not supposed to happen for years and years. I wonder how long it will take my horn to be noticeable to others, right now I can disguise it with my poofy bangs. Maybe I'll be a devil for Halloween since I already have part of the costume. Or, I guess I could be a lopsided unicorn. Either way, at least I have options.