May 27, 2010

Mini Stewie

Two days ago, as you can imagine, I was thrilled to find a Mini Stewie in my garden (Stewie is about double the size. I don't know if it shows between the photos from the two posts). Here's a few photos. As you can see, I went a little camera happy.


Is he the cutest thing in the whole world?!?! Well. He was. Sadly, I found him dead in my garden when I got home from the speech therapist yesterday. We believe the neighbor's dog attacked him. Mini Stewie then ran through the fence and into my garden, where he died.

The worst part is that I was so excited when we got home that I was looking for Mini Stewie and I found his dead body. I loved him. It's amazing how much you can love something instantly and become attached in less than 24 hours. I was so devastated yesterday that I couldn't even bring myself to get on the computer.

Yesterday, while I was mourning for Mini Stewie it occurred to me that just because you love something, like the bunny, doesn't mean that it will live. I hoped that the bunny would be safe around the neighborhood, and grow old to have Micro Mini Stewies. Just as I was hoping to enjoy Mini Stewie for a long time, I'm realizing that my whole life is going to exist on hope. I hope in two months I'll have a clean MRI (and then the next MRI after that, and that after that). I hope that I won't need radiation and chemo therapy. I hope that the rest of my existing tumor won't grow fast. I hope that I will beat the odds for the seven year average. I hope that I never have to spend another week in the ICU. I hope. I hope. I hope. I guess that this is my life.

I realize that wasting time worrying about the "what if's" in my life is just what it is, wasting valuable time, but at the same time I'm human. Of course there will be times when I'm going to worry. Maybe I'm just looking at the word "hope" with the wrong connotation. Maybe I'm starting to associate hope with fear. I don't know. I just feel so vulnerable.

May 25, 2010

Hair Envy

Pantene shampoo commercials are taunting me. I'm seriously starting to get hair envy. I've had long hair my whole life, and I'm starting to realize that it will take several years to get back to my normal hair. Ouch. It's the little things that ground you back into reality. Oh well. Worse things have happened...literally.

I wonder how my hair will grow out with this massive scar. I'm I going to be able to comb-over my scar like Donald Trump? I basically have a center part due to the scar, but I'm more of a side part kind of girl. I'm not going to lie, I seriously worry about my hair. Foolish, yes, but I am a woman, and us women want to feel attractive.


Seriously. What the heck am I going to do with this scar? The good news is that my makeup covers my braille face. And it's getting a lot better. I guess I need to deal with one crisis at a time. 

Did I mention that my first brain surgery was an awake craniotomy? I keep dreaming about the part of the awake surgery, the conversations, what it looked like, the whole thing. I've got to tell THAT story. Now, for a nap.