Saturday, 29 December 2007

"Cautiously Optimistic" Before I begin, I want to thank everyone for the well-wishing. I would've responded, but I haven't had ready access to a computer since my laptop died a sudden and inexplicable death earlier this week—Sunday? Monday? Can't be sure. My week was a blur of 3 a.m. Christmas eves and 1 a.m. Christmas mornings in waiting rooms of emergency care centers. You know the drill: You stare at fake plants potted in real soil, avoiding eye contact with the woman in the nubby skirt whose dainty tidiness in these wee hours offends you. Did she really have to put herself together to attend the opening of her purse pup's Diabetes? Couldn't he have slipped into a diabetic coma while she selected complementary pumps? Under normal circumstances I'm not so judgmental, but I'd been beating myself stupid with couldabeens and shouldabeens all night, so condemnations I typically reserve for myself spilled out. (That and every time my eyes contacted another's an undammable flow followed.) Between self-loathing and fearing-the-worst, I became Joan Rivers. Not my best night. Tonight is a different story. According to the MRI, there is no brain tumor. There has been a "brain event." There is a lesion, the result of a (treatable) stroke or an (even more treatable) fungal infection. This might not be the beginning of the end. (My stomach unclenches some typing that.) There are other things. (There always are.) They might be bad. (They might always be.) But the same veterinary neurologist who prepped me for the worst on a cold dead Christmas morning is now "cautiously optimistic." That's enough for me. UPDATE: HEADBUTT!

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