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.