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As I try to navigate my way around the neuro surgeon’s office bureaucracy, er I mean staff…. I have yet to receive a returned phone call. The surgeon himself called me back, giving me the news I never wanted to hear and informed me his assistant would get back to me (she didn’t) with scheduling dates. So I left her a message… never heard back. So I faxed her a message…. never heard back. So today I will leave another message (and it probably won’t be nice, but it will be effective and I will receive a phone call back).

It’s become somewhat interesting with some of the reactions I’ve received from family, friends and anyone who’s had surgery of any kind.

My father, who is the family’s rock…. pillar of strength…. the lighthouse in the storm…. the gentle giant who revered his children with an iron hand in a velvet glove…. ok, you get the idea, is very frightened for me. After all I am his oldest child. But he has already gone this round with my mother. She had surgery to remove a benign tumor on her brain almost 25 years ago. She suffered many years before the surgery and she’s suffered many years after the surgery. He is worried “things will never be the same”, and would like to see me continue on my current treatment of medication.

My mother, the family’s spiritual leader…. understands my fear. She silently prays for me, that God will protect me, or heal me. She prays for the doctors who will be performing this surgery. She too is worried “things will never be the same”…. because they weren’t for her.

My friends…. well that’s another story. I’ve had friends that I thought were my friends (friends that I’ve known for decades) just basically faded away when they heard I was sick. Other friends and acquaintances try and be supportive and say things like… “it’s good you’re getting this thing taking care of”…. or “you’ll be fine”…. or they say “I knew somebody who had brain surgery and it turned out good”. While I can appreciate the sentiments, they really don’t have a frickin’ clue as to what I’ve been through, what I’m going through and what I’m about to go through.

Then there are the people (friends, acquaintances, or just fellow patients) who have already gone through a surgery (of any kind) have an immediate empathy or pity really of “oh god, I’m sorry you have to go through that”, because they know “things will never be the same”. Let’s face it…. it’s not like I’m going in to have my wisdom teeth pulled, my tonsils out, a hernia repaired, a cornea transplant (all of which I’ve gone in for). I’m having surgery on my brain. (((FUCK))) is what I really want to scream.

What I’d really like is a guarantee. I know this is wishful thinking. I know this is absurd. I’d like to get to know everyone that will be assisting in the operation. (This too, I know is absurd) But maybe if they get to know me, if we somehow become friends…. they will be more involved (emotionally) in what is happening to me. I won’t just be some “pituitary patient” they will be operating on. If they knew me, maybe they might think I am funny. Maybe they would like me. Maybe they would make sure I would be alright.

Oh my god, is this nightmare really happening to me? And when will I wake up?

Oh my god, this is the most scared I’ve ever been in my life. Even more than when I heard the words, for the first time…. “you have a brain tumor”.

Oh my god, God? Are you there?

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