In my family if you need a “guy for that” you ask my brother-in-law Phil. He has a guy for everything, and his network stretches far beyond home repairs and renovations. Need your cappuccino maker fixed, he’s got a guy for that, beer tap installed in a fridge, he’s got a guy for that too. So I casually asked him if he happens to have a neurosurgeon. He said do you think my drywaller can do it? Hmmm, well it does involve patching, but no I don’t think that your dry waller can do brain surgery. And no I did not find the neurosurgeon on Kijiji.
I went to see the neurosurgeon last week, and I was very nervous going in to see him. I had no idea what to expect. Even though I had gotten some information from my sister-in-law about my brain tumor, I was still nervous. As is the case in almost all medical situations there were forms to fill in. But these were a little bit different. After ticking the tumor box, and filling in the tumor type with brain tumor (which seemed to make it just a little more real) I flipped the page. Do I have a penile implant, hmmm let me think about that one for a second, I don’t have a penis, so chances are I don’t have a penile implant. Next question, do you have shards of metal in your eyes, God I hope not. I couldn’t help questioning if I am I in the right office? Then a little further down the page I put it all together, when I got to the “are you claustrophobic” question. I feel for the guy that has to answer yes to tumor, penile implant, eyes filled with metal, and claustrophobia, that MRI machine might kill you.
The Neurosurgeon confirmed all that I had been told previously, which was a relief, and explained the next steps. So the next step is an MRI which gives the doctor a 3D view of the tumor, providing a more exact location, an idea how quickly Timmy the tumor is growing and a better idea of how nicely he is playing with the surrounding nerves. I was also told that my tumor is camera-shy, his last photo session confirmed his existence but that’s about it. A MRI will tell a much better story.
The neurosurgeon explained that he thought the best course of action is to remove Timmy. He explained that he would cut a toonie sized hole in my skull, remove the tumor through the hole, and patch my skull with an acrylic plug. An acrylic plug you say, is this going to require a trip to Home Depot? I can’t say that I am looking forward to brain surgery, but a trip to Home Depot might be nice. I was hoping for a metal plate so I could avoid the metal detector at the airport, and claim to be part robot but I guess an acrylic plug is the best solution if I need to go for another ride in the MRI machine.
So now I wait a little longer for the MRI. In the mean time hopefully my tumor doesn’t get the urge to have a growth spurt. And now of course I am worried that there are metal shards in my eyes that will be magnetically yanked out by the MRI machine.