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One of the trippier aspects of the time The Terminator and I have spent together is that I don't know if this has basically been my life 'retirement'.
I've been forced to hedge my bets (well aren't we all, each and every day?). In case not, I'm about halfway through a PhD. I'm still changing nappies—and procrastinating on potty training! I ran a half-marathon earlier this week through the streets of Oxford, reminiscing on our family's time there. In case it has been retirement, I've been watching my fair share of movies; mostly classics with the occasional Hollywood trash thrown in... well, actually the other way round! It's the latter that inspired the title of this post and best explains why I'll be undertaking tumour-scorching surgery in a few hours. There is a key difference with my surgery last year: the target is on the frontal right lobe. Last year it was on the left. This raises the stakes. If the surgeon misses the target the outcome will be something akin to a lobotomy: I will come out with frontal lobe 'don’t-give-a-fuck' syndrome. Fortunately, last year the surgeon had to use the medical equivalent of a shot gun—this time he'll have more of a sniper gun. Visualase—the 'laser ablation' technology—was just approved in the UK and has the ability to fry the target with minimal collateral damage. Still, the doctors we spoke to couldn't agree. Some (ie oncologists) argued the safer option was to continue with (relatively) conservative experimental treatments, leaving (relatively) risky surgery as a back-up. Others (ie neurosurgeons) disagreed: surgery is the only sure-fire way to kill a stubborn tumour. Also, Visualase only works for certain tumour sizes; the bigger risk would be to miss the window. I agree with the neurosurgeons. My mind sees a glass 90% (the 'success' probability) full. Removing the tumour could buy me time and produce a sort of fresh start. Against a smaller enemy force the immunotherapy, repurposed medicines, herbal supplements would face better odds. Yes, the non-invasive approach is safer in the short-term but it feels like kicking the can down the road. Now is the time for an all-in. Still, my heart is terrified in a way I don't even understand. Play Pink Floyd's 'Comfortably Numb' and you'll see me bawl (adorably, only Ernie has seen me do so but didn't really register anything was up!). I've had my share of bad beats. It's been a year of bad beats for our family—death and illness dished out in the most inexplicable (unjust?) manner. So yeah, I know it's not a done deal. What I do know is that I go into surgery happy, tranquil, peaceful. I wouldn't change a thing. And that's in large part thanks to everyone who's been a part of this crazy journey. A toast to you. 'The most important thing in life will always be the people in this room. Right here, right now.' Salud! Comments are closed.
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