dreamattack | a dialogue in pictures

so I’m mostly still alive. yesterday was the culmination of the inadvertant convergence of three final projects coming due at the same time. last night was the first full night of sleep I’ve had in too long. and still, this morning, even after last night’s subtle rolfing and today’s chiropractic thumping, I am still at half-mast, my eyelids struggling to remain above the horizon.

as for school, all that remains of this semester is a few token classes to attend and one real final next Tuesday. I hope to get more rest between now and then, as things finally begin to wind down a bit.

look at me, pretending everything is normal. why can’t it be? I declare it to be so. everything is normal. there is nothing growing in my head, I am not oscillating between extreme nausea and near coma from all the varieties of medication I am on. it’s interesting, the drugs - some designed to help, some designed to help by harming, some designed to mop up the mess of the harm, some designed to imobilize my brain so as to keep it from causing itself harm.

I stretched my main ear holes to a 00g a few days ago. they still bleed profusely when I take out the tunnels to clean the insides, but the pain gives me an odd sense of satisfaction. another pain ritual I have passed.

so many more pain rituals to pass - I am only thirty-two.

so, the last several weeks have been unpleasantly surreal. after a portentous seizure-related ER visit, dozens on scans, intensive PET mapping, and several appointments with the complete antithesis of Dr. Haddad, I finally learned what it is that has been plaguing my brain for the past year. There be a tumor in there.

A benign tumor. An inoperable benign tumor. An inoperable benign Meningioma nestled in a funky groove that exists between my Cerebellum and the blending of my Pons and Medulla.

It’s apparently grown rather quickly, which I understand is unusual for a Meningioma. I start a six week course of drug therapy on Friday designed to stop its metabolic activity. it’s just under 2.9 cm. The plan is to zap it with a million points of light (Gamma Knife), but they’re concerned it will exceed 3.5 cm, which, I’m told, is the “cut-off” for being able to treat it using the Gamma Birdcage of Cobalt Magic.

I’ve hesitated in making this post, I’ve started and stopped it a hundred times in my head. My fear is multi-pronged, and I’d rather not go into it, for fear of opening a completely different can of worms. Suffice it to say, I appreciate your support (I somewhat fear the outpouring of it), and all I ask is for your patience with my slowness, occasional confusion, and the odd post bourne out of frustration, depression, or pain.

in -op -er -a -ble - - adjective

1. Not functioning; inoperative.
2. Not curable or improvable by surgery.
3. Unsuitable for a surgical procedure: an inoperable tumor.
4. Involving too much risk to life to permit surgery.

see also: in -op -er -a -tive adjective
in -op -er -a -bil -i -ty noun
in -op -er -a -ble -ness noun
in -op -er -a -bly adverb

[ in need of physiological pain, I stretched one hole on either lobe from 10g to 6g in one fell swoop … ]

I dreamed this. I either dreamed it was there, or I dreamed it there - either way, there was no surprise.

I’ll be taking a bit of time off. I’ve encountered a little stumbling block that requires my full attention. If I have time, I will look in on my peoples. Please don’t give up on me, I’ll be back before you notice I’ve been gone. If you’re that bored, read a book.

in a flash of an eye, a decade is gone. you are older, not much wiser, if you’re lucky you have more stuff, but you’ve lost more of your soul in the process of obtaining it.

someone reminded me of how it goes. what I want to know is where it goes? what do we have to show for our time here? what have we done that really matters?

I helped birth four kittens into the world, ten years and two days ago. we were little more than children ourselves, eyes agog with the horrific wonder of birth, all that blood, and teeny mewling imps. nothing bonds you with another like birthing something or someone together and watching them grow around you as everything else changes, falls to dust, and disappears.

…………………………………………………………………………..

for those of you who have inquired - Ivan is doing much better. he’s eating, drinking, whining, and eliminating - all normal for him. he’s much thinner, feels a little more frail than before, and walks a smidge more slowly. now he sleeps as close to my womb as possible, like he senses something that frightens him, and he wants to crawl back in for safety, or possibly rebirth? age has a way of catching up with you when you least want it to. he will be ten in August.

…………………………………………………………………………..

thank you, J. for giving me so many things to think about.

proof you can buy anything on the internet:

one of these days I’ll be ordering a couple of packages of these dermestids to assist me in preparing things for art.

I’ll name this one Chomper, & that one Nibbler, & this one Gnawer … &

anyone need to make a body disappear?