Monday, September 15, 2008


So, Mommy and I go shopping for something that we probably didn't need, I can't quite remember what it was.. this was yesterday by the way. We see pajama sets. Mommy says "Ooh, pajamas, I need some". Really? I have never known my mom to wear pjs... actually I vaguely remember her having satin ones in the early 80s, was that her or on Dynasty? Anyway, I ask her why she wants pajamas.

"For the hospital", is her reply.

"Um, are they doing the surgery at the Ritz Carlton? It's a hospital, not a fashion show. They give you a gown to wear. Where are you going anyway?"

"I don't want to look like a dork."

I laughed so hard and loud I thought they were going to have to escort me outta there.

This is what we've made this surgery into. A few nights at a resort. She seriously told me that I have to bring her food because she's not eating that hospital crap. [Editor's note: I scaled down how we really talk so people that don't know us well will still think we are angels] She has made requests for at least 2 meals that she has in mind, wants to go shopping for pjs and is even trying to find wigs and/or scarves to wear after the surgery.

It's my understanding that he will only be cutting a small section of hair, so why the wigs?

I don't know if how we are looking at this major operation is helpful or harmful. In one aspect it's easier to deal with this by downplaying it. Casually mentioning to acquaintances that ask how you are with a "eh, having brain surgery for a tumor in a couple weeks". Shrugging it off like it's having minor dental work or having a bunion removed. I guess that we do this because we don't know what it will be like, we hope it is like scraping a little bit of plaque off her brain and take 2 motrin and call us in the morning. We do this to cope. If we sat down and looked online at brain surgery (no hyperlink, I won't look) and what it entails, we might just not be able to deal. We hope this is minor. We pray that it's easy peasy and 3-4 days later and she'll be walking to the post office again. Smiling to neighbors and store clerks that she'd told about the tumor, and having them marvel at how she's been such a strong and stoic woman through this whole ordeal. How we always smiled and are still smiling. No pain, no complications.

We hope. We pray.

But, I will get her the pajamas she wants for her stay at Ritz Carlton Hospital, make her ready to audition for America's Next Top Patient. I will smuggle in her favorite foods, and we will just keep shrugging it off and smiling. Because that's what we do. Treat this brain tumor like it doesn't matter, like we barely know it's there. But we do.

2 weeks to go.

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