What time is it?

Incorrect answers: Tool Time, Hammertime, time to get a watch.

The last few days have been interesting in that I have lost total track of time. Not to sound existential and ooooo-what-is-time-really but it has been interesting that the time of day hasn’t registered at all. When we talk to people, how long visitors have stayed, why all my work friends logged off the office instant messenger at the same time (answer: because it was 5:05 on a Friday afternoon…hey, how about that!), nothing has clicked in real-time, all after the fact. Interesting, really.

The husband’s office sent flowers yesterday. It’s a gorgeous bunch in a classy little vase and it was waiting on our steps with a card when we got home from the dog park yesterday evening. Everyone’s name, from the district office and the DC office, was on there.

I got in touch with my parents last night and talked to my mom for a few minutes. I talked fast because the satellite phone the group has with them only had four minutes left and I really hope she understood what I was saying. Their mission group is hiking up to a plateau today and will be out of contact for the next week. They come home a few days after the biopsy.

Last night a friend of the husband came over to talk with us. He was diagnosed with a massive, malignant brain tumor two and a half years ago and has done alternative treatment since then. Everything he had to say was so immensely helpful. He explained what to expect with a brain biopsy, reminded us that the doctors work for us and that Thursday’s procedure is serious surgery but having the results of it will be worth the risk of going under. The husband thought to ask what recovery will be like and his friend mentioned that they’ll bring me out of the anesthesia while I’m still on the table. I’m glad to have found that out now.

Looking at the husband’s friend and talking to him, you would never know that he has brain cancer. I keep thinking about the people I have known who have had brain tumors of any sort, and you just can’t tell by looking at them. With a lot of people who are chronically ill, you can often tell by looking at them that they are unwell. With a brain tumor, you would just never know. It’s not so much a feeling of fear as a feeling of being blindsided.


Shout at me.

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