A healthy interpretation? A good prespective?

Perhaps, I have graduated to the level of acceptance which is a bit squewed.

I am questioning my acceptance of an oncologist providing diagnositic evaluation of a little mass without a work-up done in a routine office visit performed my a qualified physician.

Is it overkill to go straight to the "big dog" for a cancer evaluation without labs and scans that suggest going to that expertise of an oncologist is necessary?

I surprised myself by how comfortable I felt in the oncology office.

For some folks it may feel like a scary place.

For me, it's a place where I receive exceptional care; an environment where I feel a safety blanket wrapped around me.

It isn't scary if you are already beating the odds and hanging around enjoying your time.

It is a place where people are there to help.

I have such a great respect for my care team.

I am so lucky to have such a wonderful facility.

I am lucky too, that the mass is just another fiberous, again.

Does anyone else question how comfortable they feel in a world that scares others?

Is the source of this faith, acceptance or denial, a combination of all or something else -- insanity perhaps?

Can I have a gold star for being a patient with a good, healthy perspective?

No windows, no doors, no holes in the walls

No windows, doors or holes in the walls - no problem.

Staying the same isn't an option when everything changed.

Time to try climbing up. Hopefully, I will not need any repelling gear when I get there. I may be stuck and have to climb down again.

Then, I would have to start digging a tunnel.

What did I think normal used to be?

I wonder how much one days worth of my medicine costs. I should calculate that someday.

I wonder what the history of developing one of the pills was...

Honey and Marshmallow Fluff

Via LEMON-AIDE Squeezing the most out of life with chronic illnesses, entry
“Fluff Between the Ears”-CFS/FMS and related conditions I found the following poem:

A Hum or Two
by, Kerry Ryan-Kuhn

Pooh Bear has found me
Came knocking at my door,
Under the pretense of craving honey,
But I suspect there is more.

Perhaps he heard that I, too,
Have become of little brain,
And fluff between my ears Is all that remains.
Between spoonfuls of honey He offers me a hum or two,
And tells me that hums and poems “Have to find you.”

And now finding myself A poet left with little brain,
I wonder if in the fluff The poetry remains.
For if poems and hums find Pooh– And Pooh found me,
I might stop pining for my brain, And let the fluff be.

I don't think I can stop pining for more of my brain processes to return. I invest in honey (fun) and "fluff correction" (regaining more functionality) of my brain.

Lots of spoonfuls of honey and "fluff correction" one day at a time, will make my little brain recover. Everything will feel right again soon, I think.

From needing some gum to needing a straw

Last week, I needed some gum; so, this week, I need a straw.

It started with the flu which was complicated by an impression of a "new right mid-lung platelike atelectasis". Over the phone, I heard "platelet at lactose". My rationalization of this condition was "freckled imperfections cause by milk intolerance".

Yes, curiosity about a small area of my lung collapsing got the best of me. The top Google hit says the condition "denotes collapsed areas of the lung that seem to have a linear or horizontal ("platelike" opacities or silhouette signs) appearance. When viewed from the side, they often look like a CD disk or a dinner plate."

I may not like to be late for dinner, but carrying around the plate to assure getting my portion seems to be taking this interest in food way to far!

Now, I know what is causing the hick-up like coughs. Not kewl! So, if you have a a free minute, can you grab a straw, blow away, and puff this misbehaving lung back-up for me, please?

Blowing bubbles with gum in my ear

We all want to have special talents.

After the resection of my brain tumor (invasive/benign), I have a desire to have a talent that would make me the life of a party.

I now have a hole the size of a grape in my head. I want to be able to chew bubble gum, stick it in my ear, and to blow bubbles.

I haven't had much success learning to do this yet! I think it is more likely that I could be the life of a party because I had a million dollars.

Or, could it be that it would be more likely that I am chewing a million dollars worth of gum?

Brain Negotiation - where is the humor?

This conversation "with my brain" is dedicated to Necole who I owe so much. I could not make any of the progress I am making without her help. Necole, I promise to keep rewriting this draft-of-dribble. For now it is all it can be.

Dear Brain,

I am patient and grateful that you haven't yet tried to reboot today, even though you are obviously wrestling around to find "safe mode".

I would wave a magic want to release you from the neurological struggles if I could. I understand that you have had a hard time since the tumor was removed, and that the resulting expected outcomes are hard on you. But, remember I am trying to rely on you which isn't easy for either of us.

I can see you are in a box with no windows or doors today, and the walls are to thick to punch a whole through to crawl out.

I can see that you have checked out from this conversation. You just need to go off until you settle down to rest. This includes discontinuing the spinning, waves of nausea, swimming, and clearing up the fog state.

Go rest now. This has been enough.

Waking up to Fireworks

I am awake because I just whacked myself across my eyes with the edge of the heating pad...

There is nothing quite like waking-up to fireworks. Was I seeing spots or winter?

Good news to celebrate --- this definitely wasn't one of those neurological blips!

Superheroes, come join the fight against chronic illness!

Via Being Chronically Ill Is A Pill, I followed a link to The Hero Factory. where I created my alter ego. Just like Maureen, I too have always wanted to make a "kick ass superhero"! I am there with her!

Superheroes, come join the fight against chronic illenss!

Let me translate that from Stephanese!

I have difficulty communicating. I speak Stephanese!

I have a hard time finding the right words. I substitute the wrong words. I have trouble tracking what is going on, so I get lost in conversations.

Having a sense of humor helps me with this difficulty.

Once I accidental substituted the word cognitive "impalement" for cognitive "impairment". When I did this, I laughed because having a "cognitive impairment" from my "cognitive impalement" is an expected outcome.

Do you have a funny story about when you got confused or discombobulated?

Do you know any tricks and tips to make this kind of thing easier?

FORE!

In the MRI they took when they discovered my brain tumor, the picture looked to me like about the size and shape of a golf ball. So, it is not surprising that the surgical scar on the side of my head, after the tumor was resected, looked a lot like a divot. Do you want to see the ball?



Do you have a chronic illness? Do you use humor to help you deal with the effects of the illness on your life? If so, would you like to post an entry to show how humor has helped you deal with your condition in your every life?