Never ever ever drink a Costa maple hazel latte before doing anything important. Just don't do it. It's not worth it.
So as I waited in the Millennial pink waiting room trying hard not to pace or climb the wall, I monitored my heartbeat (92 beats a minute at one point) and tried not to throw up as I waited to meet the new neurosurgeon.
I saw my face without skin.
Can confirm tumour is still there, growing away around my right orbit and temple.
It was weird to see the CT scans of the tumour. I hadn't seen them before, only the MRI scans that show void. CT scans are completely different, showing the shape and texture of the meningioma. It's porous and reminded me of a pumice stone. Lots of holes and gaps as it pushes out through the bone.
Little fucker.
The new neurosurgeon talked to me about the operation. It's pretty much the same as the previous neurosurgeon’s approach: drill the infected bone out and replace with titanium.
The warnings came again about death, seizures, loss of vision, infections, CBF leaks etc and a reminder that the shape of my head is going to change. I mean, the skull is going. But it's ok because the titanium isn't going to set off any airport alarms.
The neurosurgeon looked really stressed. I waited nearly an hour for my appointment. I think he was expecting more questions, but there wasn't more to ask really. We've learnt a lot in the past nine months ourselves. More about knowing his approach to getting rid of it.
Different sized drills to carefully hack away at my skull. The heat from them can damage nerves around the eye and even the eye itself. My jaw muscle will be cut and I'll have to learn how to open my mouth and eat again. My joke about a crash diet before Christmas went down like a lead balloon. Must not joke in serious consultations. I blame the Costa maple hazel latte. My heart is having palpitations at the thought of it.
But tumour has to come out at some point. The longer it's in, the larger it grows and the more damage it does. It's not going away.
I have a date for the operation. It's in November, at the moment, so come and say hi before I turn into weird head Borg woman.
Ugh. Send hugs.
Claire x
Great news on many counts. You have a surgeon. You have a date. This is way further along in the process than I think you have been before. It’s a pretty scary op. But I think you can pull off the Borg look. And you can eat a lot though a straw. But probably not more Hazel lattes.