sort of the same thing I said, but better ’cause it’s newer?

I had the follow-up appointment with the big-time nurse that is the right-hand-woman to the surgeon that performed the impossible in tunneling through the base of my skull up into the third ventricle of my brain and piece-mealing out chunks of tumoriffic grossness and sending those pieces most probably to a lab somewhere.

She reiterated what the nurse whom we saw at the last appointment said in letting us know that there is no angry gerbil humping my brain stem (she didn’t use those words ’cause she’s a little more professional than that).  She just said that there’s nothing to worry about and that we’ll just keep an eye on it by doing MRI’s every six months for the foreseeable future because it doesn’t take long for me to notice a change in the thing and that’s a good frequency for keeping tabs on something with its potential growth rate.

So yeah, more good news for Jake on the brain tumor front.  I’m ludicrously grateful that it’s all turning out to be good news because the bad news times are no fun.

I keep staying in touch with Shannon, and that feels a special kind of amazing.  I’m so jazzed about getting to go down and visit her.  I was telling my mom on the drive to New Haven how I’ve never seen Shannon in-person without a tumor in my head, and how easy it’s been to talk to her these past almost-two-months.  Having the backlog of…tension?  Longing?  I’m not sure what word to use.  I just know that when her and I got back in touch I could almost feel my Past and Present linking up as if my Universe was trying to make sense of itself.  Does that make any sense to anybody?  Like, I didn’t even (consciously) know I was missing her until I got back in touch with her, and now that we’ve been communicating quite reliably (every day since November 29 of last year!) it just feels so…awesome.  I know it will be so much easier to interact with her sans brain-gerbil.

OH!  ONE MORE THING!!!

I ordered a pair of bell-bottom jeans because I want a pair of jeans and I can’t wear those creepy-ass tight-legged ones that the hicks at my high school used to wear that fit inside their loud-in-the-hallway-cowboy boots because they take my leg hairs and smoosh them in all of the uncomfortable directions.  The ones I ordered look like they’ll be a good fit and nice and loose around my lower leg, and I’m looking forward to them.

 

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