"An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living"-Socrates

It's Been Two Weeks (or three, if you're counting waaay back)

It's been two weeks since surgery and today I'm heading down to UPenn Medical to pick up my MRI/CT films so that I can carry them to MD Anderson in Houston, TX this Tuesday. Two weeks since surgery. Three weeks since the seizure. Over the past two weeks I've had many people tell me how inspiring this blog has been, and I imagine that it's mostly because of my openness and honesty with the whole process. But to be completely honest, this blog has also been very cathartic in allowing me to divulge my feelings, thoughts, and concerns to you all as well. Thank you so much for that.

If/when we really internalize mortality, illness, and death, how should we react? Will we find religion, faith, "philosophy," or nothing? They seem to all claim superiority over the others in different ways, while usually refusing to find common ground. My take is that philosophy leads to, and informs, faith, which can be systematized through religion and religious ritual. Somewhat like Catholic, Islamic, or Buddhist institutions taking the nugget of faith upon which they work and creating a beautiful halo of thought and principle around it. It can be corrupted, and our history shows many many examples of how. Even to the point of destroying the faith around which it is built. I suppose that's when human ambition gets in the way and kills ones relationship with God. Tragic. I couldn't even imagine what it must feel like to have ones faith in God corrupted and/or killed by any kind of philosophical or religious-based rationality. Faith is not rationality, even if some might so desperately wish it to be so. Descartes' mind-body problem alludes to this; telling us that though our experiences from God are "kept" at the epiphysis and then somehow transferred to our bodies, we just simply don't know where that separation lies. I have no idea if that's true, but I am quite certain that both God and myself exists, and that any rational or empirical means to try and explain away that fact is merely working with a flawed human mind anyway.

Finally, "nothing" informs nothing, and unfortunately for the nothings has nothing to say. Lost? Cynical? Angry? All three. That's how it seems to me, anyway.

Taking Stock

Yesterday I met with my Neuro-surgeon and today I met with my Neuro-radiologist, both of whom discussed my "case" with one another around some kind of big table, with several other specialized Neuro-people present. I have another appointment this Monday with a Neuro-oncologist (chemotherapy), with whom I will also be scheduling some kind of ongoing treatment. To be honest, the meetings both yesterday and today were seemingly pretty "routine" (or at least as routine as meetings of this sort can be), and no really new information came out of them aside from the today-ologist's opinion that my resultant lifespan can really run the spectrum from 2 years to infinity. I told him that I'd opt for the infinity, but that if two years were all I have left then that'd be fine too. In fact, in addition to some other Penn Law admin, today I met with Dean of Students Gary Clinton and it dawned on me that these past two weeks have been absolutely amazing. I feel more alive and excited for the future than ever before-and I really don't think that's the dexamethasone (steroids) talking :)

I think it's a combination of profound reprioritization, medication (seriously, these steroids are really good), and general thankfulness at having had already lived a very full and satisfying life. I know it sounds kind of hokey and lame, but I do consider myself very blessed to have been given this gift of contemplation-I really pity the person who just goes through life without considering eternity or mortality, and then suddenly dies without any warning. Anyway, just something to consider as you make your way through the day.


As far as taking stock goes, I realize that it's still quite early to do this. I just had major brain surgery on January 15th, and though my cognition and compensating brain functions improve dramatically each and every day, I admit that I am somewhat impatient to get things rolling for real. For example, my classmates are all extremely sharp, and the way they speak of their classes/ideas are astounding to me who was (more or less) right there with them only a month or so ago. That said, my ability to "keep up" and participate improves with each passing day and I hope that soon I will be back to my "normal," pre-surgical self. Again though, I cannot yet expect myself to be "right there" with everyone as they discuss their ideas and goals, and I feel like a little more time is needed to make that happen.

Either way, my pre-surgical self was definitely a different person to a degree than my post-surgical reality. Brian 1.0 relied far too much on his intellect and ability to logically analyze various situations, while Brian 2.0 has to rely much more on his emotions to find life satisfaction. It kind of reminds me of the movie "Regarding Henry" ("popcorn! this is popcorn!"). Remember this Harrison Ford movie about the NYC mega-attorney who is shot in the head during a convenience store robbery? He was initially in a coma and then came out of it to find that life was more beautiful and vibrant than he had ever really understood, and all as a result of his brain-damaged condition. Not to say that I am specifically like "Henry" or even brain damaged in any significant way, but I know that taking out even a part of my brain will likely cause some kinds of short and long-term neuro-deficiencies. But, at this point I am mostly comfortable with this, even though I very much hope to become a government prosecutor one day-a career path that is looking like a dream that I may no longer be able to achieve. We'll see with time.

So anyway, yesterday's appointment with my Neuro-surgeon, Dr. Donald O'Rourke, went well but predictably. He projects a very very confident air without actually falling into the fallacy of arrogance, and for this I very much appreciate him. I can imagine that it's more than an accident; likely more of a practiced art that has since become a part of who he is. But the confidence he instills is very comforting for someone undergoing brain tumor treatment. He also mentioned that I should look for second opinions wherever I felt comfortable, and he even had his own recommendations for who I should consider seeing. Of course, he cautioned that treatment should definitely start on time (approx. 4 weeks after my January 15th surgery)-something with which I completely agree. As such, I am currently in the process of scheduling a meeting with Dr. Yung at MD Anderson Cancer Center down in Houston (where my Aunt Pat and family lives). I look forward to the trip because I've never been down to Houston (and I hear they've got a kick-ass aquarium), MD Anderson Cancer Center is the best in America (though Penn is no slouch), and I also definitely look forward to hanging out with my aunt and swimming in their pool :)

And that's how life has become for me the past few weeks-I just take each day one day at a time, though with a more even demeanor and much more satisfied attitude. Today I also went to meet with my Neuro-radiologist, who gave me the potentially good news that tumors like this are fairly well-known and studied, as well as the fact that I might go through radiation and chemotherapy without too much hair or short-term memory loss (which would hopefully also recompensate as well). My chemotherapy will be in a pill form-Temodar-and this and my radiation therapy will be five days a week for 6.6 weeks (33 sessions, five days per week, not including weekends). They will both run concurrently (five days/week for the Temodar, as well as for the radiation), and then for six months after the end of this combo-treatment I will continue my chemotherapy in pill form five days each month. I am all for this mode of treatment. I am told it's "the standard" of treatment and I imagine it's the standard because it works-otherwise it simply wouldn't be the standard.

This final shot is one of my family and I at New Deck Tavern-right across from the law school. It was nice eating a massive burger here (a Blue Cheese Burger, please!), as well as loading up on water, pickles and fries. Somewhat coincidentally, this is also exactly where I began my journey (not really but, kinda) as it is where I had my last Guinness(es) the night before my massive seizure. Lindsey feels guilty about all this but she really shouldn't-without the seizure, my tumor could still be growing in my head with no potential symptoms. All it took however, was a wee bit o' alcohol to get the symptoms going, in addition to cluing the doctors into the moderately massive mass in my brain. Now taken out. Thank God.

Staples Out!

Here's a pic. I'll update on the rest a bit later :)

Big Day #3

It seems like every week brings a "big day" these days; this one just
happens to be one of the biggest. Wish me luck because we'll speak with the surgeon this morning about treatment options going forward. I imagine that it will include some kind of radiation and chemotherapy combination, but the details will be revealed over the next few days. Pray for us because we'll definitely love to have Gods grace along with us. And get ready for us because we'll be back to school again in no time.

Weekend No. 1

This past weekend was great. We ended up heading to the family house in North Jersey where we feted ourselves like Irish kings on non-alcoholic beer and cannolis. Not too shabby for an Irish-American family in an Italian neighborhood, but what can I say that's just how we grew up I guess. (though usually there'd be plenty of alcoholic brew as well, just not so much this past weekend due to my...uh, "condition"). Anyway, we had a great weekend hanging out with the family, and if I were to have a brain tumor removed then this is probably one of the better times during which to have it done. I am young and healthy, the semester just started, my classes are all pretty flexible at this point (with wonderfully accommodating professors, I might add), my dad is retired, and my sister is unemployed and waiting for her semester to begin. Brilliant!

I would also like to add that today was the official start of my Spring semester, and that I am signed up for a full load. It really was nice getting back into the swing of things at Penn Law, and everyone seemed happy to see me. Yes yes, I know-it's only been 10 days since brain surgery but really, it's amazing how fast one's health insurance will have you back on your feet these days :) (BTW, just kidding).

My schedule is an official full load (10 credits) and includes Corporate Tax, Trail Advocacy, Death Penalty/Habeus Corpus, 1 Journal credit (no comment this semester!), two "banked" moot court competition credits from last semester (for which we will be travelling this semester to compete), and finally a 1 credit intra-PennLaw "Keedy Cup" competition for which my brief is due in mid-February. For this I feel I've got an advantage, even without part of my brain, and for which I can spend a bit more time pursuing all of the arguments which I perceive to be relevant. All in all, a very light semester (no disrespect to my classes though!) and one for which I am very excited. I also have to say that my messed up brain has really helped me to see past a lot of the ridiculousness at law school generally, and my take on the whole journal participation quotient has taken a serious dive. I do realize that many view it is an important part of developing themselves as able and adept future attorneys, but I'm really not sure that half-assing a journal comment is self-edifying at all. Hopefully I am not just being emotional due to the steroids or something but, I really don't think so.

So up in New Jersey we took advantage of the nice weather and travelled around a bit. We went up to the Watchung "Mountains" to walk the dog and hang out at the Trailside Nature Center, where we were blessed o take in the beautiful scenery and some wonderful shots of local cardinals. We also were able to see a bunch of Canada Geese (a real problem in New Jersey-soon to be food) and dogs running around the local park with our own pooch, Rebound. (I will post a picture soon, I promise)

Here's a bit of a description posted at Trailside about the Northern Cardinal. Apparently they're native to the area and will mate with their "loved one" for their entire lives. Pretty neat, huh?

Apart from hanging out at Trailside Nature Center and generally soaking up the love from the family, we went up to Montclair to watch "Crazy Heart" (with Jeff Bridges-I highly highly recommend it!). Afterwards we hung out at the home with extended family to cruise and eat Italian cookies until we passed out and then left for Philly. I should also point out that the weekend was not all cake and roses though. There were some ups and downs (emotionally), but to be honest I really do think that's mostly the result of the medicine that I'm on-steroids that is. My overall perspective has been amazing recently, and my relationship both with God and Amanda/family has improved and strengthened dramatically. I couldn't imagine being the kind of person to just walk down a street one day and be shot through the head-that just seems like such an inglorious way to go. Now I have got the time. I have some years to go before I go (hopefully), and that's just perfect-it really does give me time to contemplate eternity and what it really means for me and my faith. The sermon at church on Sunday was perfect, and I can't really say that I've ever really experienced this level of being emotionally plugged in before. I feel...very blessed overall and I'm really not sure I'd change it for the world (again, this could be the steroids talking but please give me some benefit of the doubt here ;) Oh yeah, and the JETS lost to the Colts. That sucked big time. But it sure didn't affect my faith in any kind of profoundly negative way. In fact, I didn't even really care all that much since I'm not even a football fan-just a simple person who watches these things, enjoys them for a spell, and then lets them slide. Kind of like life really-only life has a way of really making one smile. Football is really just football, no matter what anybody else says.

The Diagnosis

Ok, here it is: I have a Grade III Oligoastrocytoma, which has aspects both of Oligodendrogliomas and of more progressive Astrocytomas.

Thankfully, it is not yet a Grade IV (think Ted Kennedy), but it is also not a Grade I or a Grade II (which would have been divine), and it certainly is likely that within a decade or so it will progress to a Grade IV. We'll see, because medicine advances pretty quickly each year. Either way, I've got an appointment with my neurosurgeon this Tuesday at 9:30, when we'll go ahead and discuss further treatment options. I'm not exactly sure what we discussed this morning (it was kind of a blur, to be completely honest), but I do remember something about both Chemo and Radiation; something of a one-two punch to hopefully knock this sucker out. Anyway there it is; "Brain Cancer." Bam. Now it's official and we can finally move on to treatment.

Thursday, January 21

Today is the day that my tumor's pathology comes back and some kind of medium to long-term treatment plan is established. Unfortunately, this "treatment" will likely involve radiation and/or chemotherapy. As you can probably imagine, I've already called the surgeon's office today (they said to stop calling and that they'd call me back when they're ready) and tried to pry some kind of information out of them. The tumor could be one of four "grades," Grade I-IV, and its treatment will depend largely on which grade it turns out to be. A Grade I tumor is the most benign (and usually the least aggressive too), while a Grade IV tumor is the most malignant (and obviously the most aggressive). Grade II and Grade III tumors lie on the spectrum between the two, but the tumor's grade is really only a part of my overall treatment plan.

Me, blogging.

The picture to the right (of my back) is a "Dilantin" rash. Yes, it is easily as itchy as it looks, though because they switched me the other day to Keppra in its place, it is already largely faded and gone-thank you Lord!

There are literally hundreds of different tumor types from which my tumor may be derived: The most common type of primary brain tumor (which is what I have, since mine did not metastasize from another area of my body) is called a glioma. Gliomas begin from glial cells, which generally are the supportive tissue of the brain. There are several types of gliomas, categorized by where they are found, and the type of cells that originated the tumor. For example, "Astrocytomas" are glial cell tumors

that are derived from connective tissue cells called astrocytes, and can be found pretty much anywhere in the brain of an otherwise healthy adult or child. "Oligodendrogliomas" also arise from the supporting cells of the brain. They are usually found in the cerebral hemispheres (the "meat" of the brain, like where mine was discovered) and can also be found pretty much anywhere. Seizures are a very normal symptom of these tumors, as well as headaches, weakness, or changes in behavior or sleepiness, etc. This type of tumor is more common in people in their 40s and 50s, but tend to have a better prognosis than most other gliomas, though they can become more malignant with time. Again, this is just a small sampling of what kind of primary brain tumors are out there, and I hope to have much more information this afternoon after my brain surgeon calls.

An update on my overall condition reveals a very positive trajectory. Since being discharged from the hospital on Monday (that's right, only the 4th day(!) since having my head hacked open(!)) my energy and general outlook have steadily improved. Yesterday I had a bunch of friends come to visit and we spent several hours just hanging out in the apartment shooting the breeze and talking about what this semester is offering everyone. And of course, this is on top of a wonderful day spent in downtown Philly, walking around Macy's (where you can catch two daily concerts (12 and 5) from the world's largest operational pipe organ-the largest (non-operational) being found in the Atlantic City Convention Center), the Wannamaker Building generally, and of course down to our new favorite cafe-Rachael's Nosheri on 19th and Sansom St. Great soup and bagel's at this place-try the pastrami sandwich if you really want a treat. We did and I'm sure we will again, and next time I'll be sure to get some Rachael's pics up on this blog to better illustrate Philly's downtown-ness.

This somewhat creepy historic building is a sliver of the past, named "Bellevue Health Club," and just kind of...there.

Brian 2.0 - (aka, "The Fu" is Back!)

Surgery went well, or so the surgeons say. The first day I came to I was rather sick, vomiting, and generally not really "feeling" the anesthesia so much. But within a short time (roughly an afternoon) I got over it and made it through the many pokes, needles, vital sign-takings, and naps without too many problems. The only side effect of surgery that I really had to deal with was the apnea that plagued me throughout the first day of recovery. I was actually only breathing about 3-4 times per minute, and that understandably worried the nurses somewhat.

That same day I looked something like I did below (with the head bandage) which is somewhat remarkable considering that I had fully expected to be completely puffy and swollen across my whole forehead and face. The next few days I had wonderful nurses, apparently in the Neuro-ICU they staff the best, and they all helped me wonderfully. A special shout-out to one of my nurses, Sonya Wood, who specifically allowed Amanda (my wife) to stay at my bedside throughout the (two) night(s), and who shut the curtains and doors of my ICU "suite" when it was time to rest. Apparently she didn't have to do this, but I sure appreciated it anyway.










I also think it's worth mentioning that I shaved the Fu Man-Chu into my face simply because I thought it was kinda tough-looking. Ha! Well in retrospect I realize that it certainly WAS tough-looking, at least until I ended up in the emergency room, wrapped in a paper thin snuggie. Not too tough anymore, huh? The toughness quickly morphed into a somewhat pathetic, post-seizure tumorheaded law student, writhing on the emergency room bed. All I can say is to be sure that before you pursue any acts of toughness that you make sure no surprise seizures are in your future, otherwise you'll feel somewhat silly rather quickly. :)

Anyway, the second day/night in the Neuro-ICU (Saturday the 16th) was pretty much the same as the day before, but with a slight increase in my general cognition and comprehension. The first day I started with a lower baseline but that was to be expected. Though they did not test me for any specific cognitive defects or anything, I could feel right away that my brain was...kind of detached. It's hard to explain, but if you can imagine your brain and thought process being a bit far from reality and "looking" at reality from a somewhat distant place, that's more or less what it was like. To use an imperfect example, when people would ask me questions I would immediately know the answer, but I would only really "understand" its relationship to the world from a somewhat distant vantage. If that makes no sense I'll try to clean it up over the next few days/weeks and rehash it again. Either way, they had me up and walking around the ICU on this day and I did two laps around the central unit-not too bad for only the day after brain surgery. You could definitely say that I was one of the patients in "best shape" in the neuro-ICU, and it seemed like everyone else in there was close to catatonic from whatever condition from which they were suffering. Please pray for them.

The second day was also the first day of my second MRI, which was mainly used to determine the success of my original surgery and how stable it was. Apparently the brain was stable, and this lent some support to the surgeon's residents' 6 am assertions that the surgery actually did go well. Anyway, that's pretty much the story of my first two days in the hospital. Unfortunately, I'm on a bunch of meds right now (Dexamethasone-8mg/4x per day for brain swelling; Keppra-1000mg/2x per day for seizures; and Ranitidine-150mg/1x per day for as long as I'm on the Dexamethasone). I hate taking them, but they're part of the deal. The Dexamethasone and Ranitidine will be tapered to nothing within about 9 days, leaving only the Keppra in my regular rotation. Their side-effects are kind of severe though (dizziness and general feelings of detachment) but they are an important part of the healing process, and I guess I'll stick through them. I suppose they're one of the miracles of modern medicine, and since they're part fo the deal they're now a part of my life. At least for the next few days. Anyway, please enjoy the pics!

The Big Day!

5:24 AM. It's been both an amazing and agonizing week-and in many ways I hope that nobeody else ever has to go through it. But it's kind of an adventure too. It's 27 degrees outside with very little wind, and we're only about 6 or 7 blocks from the hospital so we're walking. I always look forward to a nice walk through Philly, though I must say that at this time of the morning I'm not feeling it as much. But I imagine that waking up is always the worst part.

The Crazy Delectations of a Penn Law Student (aka, this is what we do for fun)

"amazing grace - philosophy: how you climb up the mountain is just as important as how you get down the mountain. and, so it is with life, which for many of us becomes one big gigantic test followed by one big gigantic lesson. in the end, it all comes down to one word. grace. it's how you accept winning and losing, good luck and bad luck, the darkness and the light." (also, "perfumed shampoo, bath and shower gel")




This somewhat stupid and trite "inspirational" quote was taken from my wife's "Philosophy" bath and shower gel bottle, apparently a vessel of both wisdom and grapefruit/vanilla scented exfoliation in one 8 oz. shot. After reading it and then lathering up, I realized that messages like these are placed and seen throughout society, often merely as product endorsements, but sometimes as true and inadvertent calls to remind us of what we so often fail to find in life, God, friends, family, and wholly-distilled inspiration. Take a moment to think of where you encounter phrases and words such as these which, while meant to sell some kind of manufactured product, use some kind ethereally inspiring notion to dissolve everyday life-even for a moment. I imagine that advertisers use these "ah ha!" moments to briefly open our eyes to something much purer and more special than our everyday distractions before filling that opening with their product as the worthwhile alternative. Than again, who knows; maybe there really aint nothin' like Coca-Cola being the "Real Thing," and L'Oreal really is "Because You're Worth It." Personally, I think they're stupid. But this is not the purpose of this blog.

The purpose of this blog is to chronicle my adventures over the next year or so as a University of Pennsylvania Law student, about to undergo a brain tumor operation. I figure that an operation such as this is interesting for at least a number of reasons: 1) brain tumors and their operations are always those things that people having no brain tumor experiences probably regard as somewhat mythical, like Nepal. We hear that it exists and we occasionally come across stories of its impact, but until we actually experience its reality it remains a part of life to which we just simply cannot relate; 2) I am a law student at one the better law schools in America which, though it implies a very rebuttable presumption of intelligence (trust me, some people definitely "slip through the cracks" getting in to top law schools), does tie my surgery to my most important asset, my brain; 3) I hope to inspire others who suddenly find out that they need surgery such as this, with frequent updates of my condition, prognosis, and outlook, because while there is a lot of technical and statistical information out there, it is difficult to find first hand accounts; 4) I will have pictures, and hopefully pictures of my brain posted on this blog - and you have to admit that will be super cool.

However, before I get into my condition and what's going on, I just want to say that full participation on this blog is wholly encouraged. I would love to help create a forum for any kind of question whatsoever. I cannot guarantee that I'll be able to answer all questions, and I may even stop making sense after a while (remember, this is not gall-bladder surgery here). But I will do my best, and I very much hope that my experience can be used to encourage and inspire others who are affected by similar circumstances. (of course, I realize that if I stop making any kind of sense that this is not exactly encouraging but...I digress).

So to bring everyone up to speed on who I am and what's going on: My name is Brian Trainor, I am 30 years old, born and raised in New Jersey, very happily married, I live in an apartment in University City/Philadelphia with my wife, cat, and about a dozen very heavy law books. I love it here. While we hope to move to the Denver area after graduation, Philadelphia has so much going for it that it is slowly creeping up as a very credible alternative. As one can see from my other blog (briamanda.blogspot.com-linked to this one through my profile), my wife and I met at the University of Hawaii during undergrad, and after working for a few years as a Bills Researcher for the Hawaii State Senate Ways and Means Committee we married and whisked ourselves off to Panama for a two-year adventure with the US Peace Corps, where we learned semi-fluent Spanish. Before all that I worked as an EMT-Intermediate, running 911 emergency calls full-time for Honolulu's Chinatown nightshift (awesome job!), and before that lived and worked in the mountains of Colorado (Breckenridge) as, for lack of a better term, a ski-bum (also a great time!). It was during this Colorado mountain experience during which I became a Christian, something which, though I may fail to mention the fact in every other sentence on this blog, is easily the most important aspect of my life and something from which I am eternally (literally!) grateful.

I originally decided to pursue law school because of a fascination with public policy, though admittedly this has been somewhat tempered over time by a fascination with prosecution. Last summer I interned at the US Attorney's Office for the District of Colorado, where I basically fell in love with the work, the people, and the profession. Either way, I am currently applying to Princeton's Woodrow Wilson School of Public Affair for a Masters Degree in...Public Affairs, and I very much hope to pair Princeton's training with my law degree, to one day work as an effective government prosecutor.

Anyway, everything was going just dandy for me until last Thursday, January 7th, when out of the blue (well, after a few pints of Guinness) and at 3:45 AM, I had a massive seizure for which I was rushed to the hospital. When there, a CT Scan informed us that some kind of a lump was present, and a follow-up MRI confirmed the lump as a brain tumor on the medial aspect of my left frontal lobe, about 2.5 cm in size. If you want to find the approximate equivilant area of your own head where my tumor is located, simply find you widow's peak in the middle of your forehead and move up the middle of your scalp about 3 inches. The tumor will be just a wee bit to the left side. To be honest, it's still somewhat unbelievable to even type this, because like many of you it's hard to accept that this drama is happening not just to someone to whom I am very close, but to actual "me." I have no headaches, no blurred vision, no neurological deficits of any kind; just a digital picture and a doctor's expert opinion that I have a tumor in my brain that must come out. It's been a whirlwind to say the least, and the meds they have me on (Dilantin-for seizures, Dexamethasone-a steroid to keep down brain swelling, and some kind of hard-cord antacid) have kept me in somewhat of a constant daze. In fact, roughly ten minutes or so after taking my 4x daily Dexamethasone dosage, my brain feels as if it's wrapped in a warm fuzzy snuggie, and I've had to apologize to many professors and friends for my glazed smile and dopey responses. For whatever reason, it also seems to encourage me to declare that I'm stoned, which always seems funny to me at the time. Apparently, this Dexamethasone has something like 30-40x the strength of Hydrocortisone, and could be regarded as "recreational" under the right conditions. (not to mention that people have actually been banned from various sports for "doping" with this so I feel pretty hard-core).

Back to the tumor. As you can probably imagine, my time since last Thursday has been very busy taking care of law-related stuff (arranging class), settling my Council of Student Representatives duties (for which I am the Treasurer, and for which only I know the books!), and even phone interviewing for a summer internship with the Department of Justice which, though I think went horribly due to the brain-scrambling effects of my meds, apparently went okay as they already notified me of their continued interest. In addition, I've tried my best to see and/or speak with most of my friends, professors, law school deans, and available family before the big day.

I suppose that many everyday people, suddenly transformed into critical patients, experience a similar sort of breathless rush towards their deadline. The past week has simply flown by. But the support and encouragement from all quarters has been amazing. My faith as a Christian has tripled, my attention and love for Amanda (my wife) and my family has as well, and life has really been distilled down to its very essentials. Despite the rush, it's been a week of clarity. It's been a struggling and difficult clarity at times, especially since the organ involved is the one upon which I still hope to rely as a future prosecutor. But it really is an amazingly profound gift to be able to view the world without the blinders of everyday distraction. I think of the people in Haiti who may never have had a chance for such contemplation, such soul-searching, and I realize how blessed I really am. Many of us in better circumstances never really identify with our mortality either, and it usually only through these dire circumstances that we are forced to. But we'll all die one day, each one of us. That's right! You reading this right now will one day actually die. Crazy huh?

We don't like to think of it because it's not pleasant, and we go from distraction to distraction, inflating their importance to keep ourselves from considering what really matters. I certainly hope that I won't be exploring that reality just yet. But considering it at this fundamentally deep and actual level is something that really makes me feel alive. I thank God for that. And over the next year or so, I hope that this blog will be able to share just a part of my thoughts and experiences as 2.5 cm+ of the medial aspect of my left frontal lobe is cracked open, cut out, and resected into a new brain. Brian 2.0. Tomorrow morning at 8 AM. Here's hoping for a super power or two. :)