The caterpillar and we are all mad here…..

So it’s been a while since I’ve posted…not that anyone is really reading this. But if you are, I was in a pause due to the cyst in my brain. But now that pause is indefinite so I’m going to have to get over it.

I learned on Friday of last week that it’s kinda inoperable without doing some serious damage. And that it probably will stay put all nicey nice like. Probably. At least that’s what I think the surgeon meant. But I really can’t be sure.

Cause he was by far, the strangest, fucking man I have ever met. And that’s saying a lot if you know the people who I am lucky enough to meet. This guy was a caricature of a caricature of an eccentric surgeon. And that wasn’t a typo.  Imagine, if you will, a man sits next to you. A man who you hope has the answers to what to do with a thing that’s in your head threatening to destroy your calm and your hearing.  Imagine that man gets uncomfortably close to you…like an inch or two from your face…and you don’t really care cause, “fuck!Just tell me my options already”….and then he begins to talk whilst intermittently licking his entire mouth with his entire tongue every three seconds or so. And he’s fucking in your space…inches from you with that giant tongue undulating. And you are trying to concentrate on what he’s saying so you try to focus on his eyes… but oh shit, he’s now got facial ticks with his goddamn eyes that are making you dizzy. And he’s talking like the caterpillar from Wonderland except less coherent. And you think…fuck, you know this has to be a joke…so you look around the room to see the cameras and then glance at your husband for a reality check. But one look from your husband, who’s desperately trying to keep it together, and you know that it’s real and now you have to try to keep it together cause you can’t guffaw and get the answers you want… And you are so pissed, though, cause fuck, can’t you just once get a medical professional that isn’t certifiable. But hell, it’s funny and after the week you’ve had, well…you’ll take funny over doom and gloom.

And that sirs and madams…is my life in the medical community in a nutshell or nuthouse if you prefer. It’s shit like this that makes me realize that no matter what, I’m fucked. I think I need to scan it in 3-5 years…but I’m not sure cause this guy hates scans. And it might take my hearing overnight…or it might not.

And before you even ask…of course, I’m going to get a second opinion. I just need a week to get the image of tongue out of my head first.

So there’s that. I’ll deal with real life in the next post cause even telling that story makes me tired. Someday it will make me pee my pants laughing. I’m sure. But right now…yawn.

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