The look on my neurologist’s face as he greeted me in the waiting room said it all. He had bad news to tell me and was very sympathetic about it.
The short version is that I have been referred to a neuro-oncologist at Anschutz (LMAO, my spell-check just suggested Chutzpah as the correct spelling!) Medical Center at the University of Colorado. Sounds impressive, right? Hey, we don’t mess around with the girl carrying around a whole galaxy in her brain! They all wanna check it out! After they get a peek, I am to hustle my little ass (literally) over to The Best in the Nation for treatment, which apparently Is still to be determined depending on a diagnosis of what the hell Bob is and what he’s doing in there.
Being that Bob is located in my brain-stem, the neuro-dude-ologist will have to determine whether they will be able to biopsy the son-of-a-bitch, so that they can figure some stuff out. They will also do a full-body scan to look at all my kibbles-n-bits to rule out any friends-of-Bob partying down in my insides. Highly unlikely due to the look of the marble/universe named Bob, but one can never be too careful. Sneaky little buggers.
I hope all the docs in my future have a better poker face. No more doe-eyed sympathetic men delivering crap news.
The good news: We are not referring to Bob as the C-Word yet, and I have a script for Valium. Perks.
Thank you for reading along, it helps me get this off my mind. I have a big fight ahead, but I am confident that I’ll come through the other side.
More will be revealed…