05/05/04
As scheduled we went to the U of Ia for a neurosurgeon consult. On the way the Super Nurse remarked that surgeons always want to do surgery, so don’t be surprised if he recommends surgery instead of the gamma knife.

We talked to a Nurse Practitioner first. She outlined all three possibilities- gamma knife, radio therapy, conventional surgery. Then the neurosurgeon came in. Like the fellows at Mayo he said they don’t like to repeat conventional surgery due to the scar tissue. Then he said the gamma knife probably wouldn’t work because the tumor has moved the nerve and it would be hard to impossible to pinpoint. So he recommended radio therapy.

I don’t know how that procedure gets its name but would mean inserting a needle through my cheekbone where the nerve comes out, and fishing around till he finds where it comes out of the brain. Once that is done he would go in with another needle and burn the nerve somehow. From what I’ve read, the procedure is agony under normal conditions. Normal being the nerve is where it normally is. Mine isn’t there. Considering the prospect of a lot of fishing to find it, and a lot of pain. I balked. And the Super Wife was right.

So the next step is to have a consult with the radiologist to see if he thinks he can find it on an MRI and if the gamma knife is an option or not.

Then it was home and then to the Awana awards banquet for the kids. We got there early, who’da thunk? I was groggy from the meds, so, ignoring etiquette, I rested my head on the table. Ms. Pikachu amused herself by putting her CD player’s headphones on me. She was amused because she was playing a ‘Grassroots’ CD she’d burned, and while it played I’d pump my foot and I’d rock to it even though I was tired. I like the ‘Grassroots’ and she does too. It's impossible to stay still while 'Temptation Eyes' or 'Sooner or Later' is playing. Maybe that's just me.

I was among the first at our long table to get my food, and by far the last to finish. There were no knives so the only way to eat the sloppy joe was to compress it so I wouldn’t have to open my mouth very wide, and could take small bites. I’m not complaining, I’m long used to it. There was also a fine selection of jello’s and cakes.

When we were in the food line Train Boy was wrestling around with Ms. Pikachu’s friend, Erin. She was a good head taller than him, and it wasn’t much of a contest. But they needed to burn some energy so I let it go on. Train Boy was clearly heard to say, “But I’m too cute to die.” Girls have been talking, and he’s been listening.

Then it was home, more medication and I fell asleep on the couch. Woke up, and here you go.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
-