The last few day have been tough. The reality of my diagnosis, while always present in my mind, has finally set in. I haven’t worked out in days, currently I sit here half dressed for the gym looking for my motivation on my bedroom floor. I think talking to the folks at the Barrow Institute cemented the reality of what is happening. Being that they are the best in the biz, I could comfortably put off any decisions about treatment until I had talked to them. We had casually dubbed them “the Arizona people” since their office is in Phoenix. After every appointment here in town, as my confusion and frustration rose, we would say, “we’ll, let’s just wait until we hear from the folks down in Arizona, then we can decide.”
Well we heard, and initially I was very excited. They recommended a “full surgical resection” and they don’t even want to bother with the other choices. They told me what I wanted to hear (aw, hearing, sad day!) that they can give me a good chance with surgery. They are incredibly skilled and all the literature says that the best outcomes come from the most experience. I should feel better.
I suppose it is the finality that I fear. A decision was made, essentially, which means now I actually have to address the problem. It’s like everything in my life, it will all be fine as long as we don’t reach that final point. That point where things come to an end is always sad. It’s like the bittersweet end to a vacation. You are ready for it to end but you can’t let it go. It’s like saying goodbye and preparing for the next big adventure. Even if the adventure is not the one you would have chosen. I suppose I’m just being dramatic. Maybe it’s that I haven’t been on any shopping sprees with my sisters lately because those really seemed to help. On that note, I should really figure out how to bankroll this tumor spree. Anyway, who knows, I am going to go workout.