I Walk Among the Living

Alive!

I walk among the living.  In 1993 I was tested for systemic lupus erythmatosis, a really long word for immune system malfunction.  That really big word means a really grand malfunction that simply translated is an almost the complete antithesis of AIDS. Pregnancy brought out the best in a disease that loves hormone changes, afflicts predominantly women, mostly of childbearing years.  Guess I walked right into that one.

1996

 I am alive.  My thoughts described feelings of terror after the diagnosis of brain involvement and a tumor growing alien near the pituitary gland.  Brain swelling had forced me into the hospital until the menu had begun to rehash green jello and repeated mush.   Crisp white sheets and cheerful nurses were stained by reality. Being friends with the radiologist afforded me a different level of care above and beyond what my insurance would pay. He strolled with the mannerism that being a lifelong hippie and Grateful Dead head ingrained, laid back, loose, slightly long haired gentle soul and a doctor.  Who would have thought . . .

 In his matter of fact tone he pointed to the grayer mass on the grayish x-ray tucked into the gleaming metal frame that hung on the wall. This meant nothing to me, but the MRI image next to the regular familiar image highlighted in living color the distinctly different spot of malfunction hidden in the gray matter.

“You need to see a neurologist. Soon.  These types of things are usually not malignant; however there is no way of knowing what this is other than how it appears based on the symptoms it is presenting.  The surgery for this is not that big of a deal.  They go in and remove things like this all of the time.  Up through the nose, into the brain.” 

He pantomimed some kind of insertion of an instrument into the nasal cavity like picking his nose with the nostrils pulled back and open like some weird clown hippy wearing a stethoscope. 

“Thanks for the extra explanation Ken.”

You are talking about my brain like you can remove a piece of ham from a sandwich!  My hippy doctor friend turned and pulled the x-ray film off of the monitor with a snap.  He smiled at me and with a nod of his head, left the room.  My brightly dressed nurse whisked into the room, pulled purple sterile gloves out on the wall. Is that Scooby-Doo slinking around her smock with Shaggy, Fred, Daphne, and Velma? Where is the Mystery Mobile to solve this mystery? What the hell!   Not-Daphne checked my vital signs and IV site. There was something in Ken’s smile as he walked out of the room.  It could be fear, but I have not seen that expression from him either so how the hell would I know?  Stunned and stranded with my friend the IV pole and monitor; it ticked and tocked my life to a mechanized beat.  I contemplated the concept of now.  Now I am told I am possibly dying but who isn’t?  Am I dying any more now than I was two weeks ago?  The day something is born it begins to die, and only in that certainty does someone truly begin to live. No matter what “they” say and in spite of all the medical evidence, experts, or pamphlets introducing me to my new nemesis that suggested I should be otherwise I am alive.