And we found a strange thing in your brain, and...

[Continued from a post on Wednesday, January 21, 2009- After seeing my psychiatrist today...(It's actually yesterday now)]

There I sat for what seemed like days, and waited, and waited and waited...

I was in daydream la la land, and I heard a voice call my name. Was it that beautiful young woman, with long and shiny brown hair, seated in a lounge chair to my left, a scant 15 feet away, at the resort on the beach in St. Martin? No it wasn't, for as the fog began to clear, I was awakened from my deep cerebral daydream, and there she stood, in her mauve scrubs, the radiology tech, repeating my name again. Granted there were only 2 of us in the waiting room, and the other person was a female, so I think she deduced that I was the patient waiting for the MRI. She led me through another pair of doors, and we made a hard right. She took me to a changing room, where I was to take off all my jewelry, watches, belts, shoes, and anything that might have metal in it. I was lucky because I was wearing sweatpants, t-shirt, socks and sneakers. I least I wouldn't have to change into one of those lovely white hospital gowns, that are tied off in the back, with my ass hanging out the back. I was having flashbacks of an earlier time many years ago when I was in that precarious situation. It's a long story.

When I was done, I was to continue walking down the same hall, and enter through these really large and heavy doors, with all these hospital like warning signs all over them. What had I gotten myself into, I thought. I forgot the tech's name, but she was very nice, and professional. She asked if I ever had an MRI before, and I said no. She explained what was going to take place, and about how long it would last. Good thing I went to the bathroom before I got there, because it was going to take awhile, unlike an x-ray. I laid down on this skinny examination table that was attached to the MRI machine. The machine's name was Siemens, or something like that. So, I laid down, with my head closest to the Machine, and she gave me headphones to wear, and asked what kind of music I liked. I thought that was very caring, not realizing how damn loud these MRI machines are. Then she put this plastic, or plastic coated cage over my face, and it sort of reminded me of when I played football and wearing a football helmet. Lastly she gave me a hand-held buzzer squeezy bulb thing, in case I had any problems while I was in the machine. She told me that about halfway through this MRI procedure that she will slide me out and give me an intravenous shot of this gadolinium, which is a contrast substance that shows some changes before and after you get it injected into your system.

So there I laid, ready for this machine to work it's magic. At that time, I thought nothing about having anything wrong with my brain, just my neck and back. The MRI machine started it's "Symphony in D Minor". I think it is an experience everyone should have at least once in their life time. Not really, as it means you might have something wrong with you, and that's not a good thing. The headphones were a godsend, because it is incredibly noisy in there, and if you are claustrophobic, use some type of medication, because it feels like you are being placed in a noisy, and bright coffin. About half way through this event, the tech stopped the machine, and slid me out to give me the IV. It seemed like I was in there for a very long time. They were doing both my c-spine and brain, both before and after the gadolinium, or maybe just my brain with the contrast. I forgot, but I know it was something like that. Back I went into the machine, and the "Symphony in D Minor" started again, with Part II. One important aspect that I had left out earlier, that being you can't move, at all, because if you do, you screw the whole thing up (At least that is what they told me.) and you have to do the whole damn thing all over again. Oh, that would be fun. Not really, it would suck!

Finally, after what seemed like a couple of hours, the ordeal was over. I asked the tech why they gave me the IV, and her explanation was that it's like my brain cells are having a party, and it livens them up, and cells being like little magnets lining up, and on and on, to produce a contrast in certain areas, or something like that. To quote Rich in Casablanca: "Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship." Yes, me and the infamous MRI machine were going to meet again, and again over the next 5+ years. My MRI examinations have numbered in the dozens, and still counting. I have had MRI's done of my brain, c-spine and lower back area (L-5 and S-1). We are starting to get on a first name basis lately, but the positive thing about all these tests is that I am still alive, and I'm lucid and cognizant, both a plus. I know more today then I did almost 5 1/2 years ago about MRI machines, and MRI images. I've seen pictures of my brain, which I thought was pretty cool, and was even able to pick out that strange thing in my brain. I know, it sounds a little warped to say it was cool, but it was. How many people get to see picture of their brains? Not that many. This first MRI took place on October 14th, 2003, the day before the day that changed my life forever.

Well, I finally got out of Sheridan Memorial Hospital, and I was running behind schedule, like I had one to begin with. By schedule, I mean my "New Beginnings Program" at the VA, whose class time had already started by the time I got back. I hated being late. As I walked into the small conference room where our classes were being held, Dr. Ashear asked me if everything went OK, and I said yeah, and sat down in my seat. I had done my homework from the previous day, and that was what we were going over when I finally arrived. So, no harm, no foul! The rest of the day was uneventful. I had no idea how long it would take for Dr. Trahan to get the results, so that we could plan our next course of action.

October 15th started like any ordinary day for me. The unit I was in was called SNU, or Special Needs Unit. It was the politically correct version of psychiatric care unit. It was a none locked down unit, except after 10pm and before 6am everyday. So, my normal routine was as follows. I would get up around 5;15am, and go down to the med room to get my morning meds, then fix myself a cup of coffee, and time for the three "S's", s%$t, shower and a shave, although the shavers were locked up in the nurses station, and they only let you use battery power units. Over time, if you weren't a suicide risk you could use an actual razor blade, like those disposable Bic types, but you had to did it in the bathroom that was adjacent to the nurses station. I know, they really made it tough on us, but the reality was that there were some seriously mentally ill patients on this unit. They did have another psychiatric unit, over in Building 8, and that was a totally locked down unit. I spent my first 10 days there as they evaluated me, and thought it was safe enough to send me to SNU. Oh, where was I, oh yeah, I took my shower, got dressed, and fixed up another cup of coffee in the patients kitchen. I had this big 64oz. mug, the standard hospital issued drink device, with all the ounces and milliliters marked on the side, just in case they needed to monitor a patient's fluid intake. I usually drank black coffee with some Sweet and Low. By now it was almost 6am, and they would be unlocking the doors to the outside.

It was 6am, and they unlocked the doors, so off I went, to the elevator that was about 12 feet from the now unlocked door. I had put on a jacket, or more like a Arctic parka, as it was the middle of October, and it had been pretty brisk outside over the last few weeks. My folks had sent me my clothes up from Florida over the previous 3 months, so I now had a stockpile of clothing for all seasons. I originally came back to Wyoming in July of 03 with just 2 suitcases, one large, and one medium. Now I had boxes of stuff, and the staff use to kid me, and say, Hey Bill, do you need a separate room for all your stuff? Not really, as I could store some of my stuff down in a place where patient could store some of their property. I got off the elevator at the ground floor, walked out of the little elevator alcove, and hung a left. I passed the intersection of another hallway, to my left, that led to the main hospital, and the other dozen or so building connected by an enclosed network of hallways and tunnels, to link the entire hospital, because we were in Wyoming. And it would be really tough rolling a gurney through 6 foot snowdrifts in the winter, with the wind blowing at 40-50mph. Nope, can't be done. To my right was the hospitals canteen, and cafeteria. It wasn't the same cafeteria us patients ate at, at least the ones who were ambulatory. It was mainly for the hospital staff, which numbered over 300. A few more feet, and I stepped to the outside world. The exit/entrance to the ground floor of building 86 faces in a southeasterly direction, so you can catch the morning sun. It usually wasn't up yet when I got out there, but that was OK. To the left when you walked out the door, about 25 feet away stood our veterans butt hut. As you weren't allowed to smoke in the hospital, and a lot of veterans smoked, they had a few of these throughout the campus. They were pretty simple, with all 4 sides encased in large, seam to seam vinyl, or Plexiglas windows, a sliding door for handicap accessibility, benches around the inside perimeter, and a couple of picnic tables. They also had heat, and an exhaust fan located at the peak of the roof to suck the smoke out. I know, it's a hospital, and you shouldn't be smoking, but these guys and gals had more important things to deal with and worry about here, and stopping smoking would have been an added stressor. They also had a couple of benches and tables outside the butt hut, which were nice during the day when it wasn't to damn cold or snowing.

The Sheridan VAMC is a 203-bed medical center, with 54 buildings on a 296-acre campus. Their primary catchment area extends to veterans from Wyoming, Montana, Colorado, Utah, and portions of Idaho and it serves as the psychiatry tertiary referral site for VISN 19. The bed complement includes 50 psychiatric, 23 medical, 50 extended care, 40 mental health residential beds, and a 40 Domiciliary Residential Treatment Program for Homeless Veterans.

I sat outside in my parka, and wearing a pair of glittens (A combination glove/mitten hand wear.) I drank my coffee and smoked a few cigarettes. Occasionally one of the guys would join me, usually because they wanted to bum a cigarette, but that was OK. Most of us were classified as indigent, but I had the luxury of my family supporting me while I was there by sending me money and cigarettes, along with tons of clothing. I stayed outside until about 6:45am, and then headed in to drop my coffee mug off at my room. I then headed to the chow hall, which I could have went to in 2 different ways. First, I could use the outside route, and walk past the butt hut and head in that general direction, northeast, which would lead me to building 6 where the patients chow hall was, or take the inside route, and head down that long hallway I talked about earlier, and when I got to the end, hang a right, and the chow hall would be about 50 feet ahead on my left. Every patient saw a dietitian once they arrived, and numerous times while they were there. I had initially asked to be put on a 1750 calorie diet because I knew from previous VA hospitalizations that I gained a lot of weight while I was an inpatient. Mainly because I wasn't moving around a lot, like when I was in a manic state, and/or working. So, that was my cross to bear.

Breakfast was at 7:00am, and I was usually one of the first dozen or so to arrive. Most times we had to wait for the chow hall folks to open the door, but it usually wasn't a long wait. Breakfast went well, as did the rest of the day. I was anxious to see what these MRI pictures told us, and what the heck was wrong with me. I kind of knew there was something wrong with my neck, and for me that was a given, but this one of the brain, well I had no idea what was going on there. But I waited, and waited, and waited...

It was a little after 5pm, and my classes and sessions were done for the day. My plans were to go to dinner, and then head back to the unit and do some painting. My favorite was to paint these little plaster or gypsum statue figures, mostly of animals, and I would spend hours doing that. It kept my mind and hands busy, and I took great pride in the ones I finished. I still have some to this day, and I also gave a lot of them away to fellow veterans, and staff. The lady at occupational therapy had all kinds of crafts and artwork for the veterans to do. She was kind of nice to me, because she saw I actually did them. When I was done painting these statues, I would go down to occupational therapy and clearcoat them. That was my plans for the evening, something nice and simple, because the last 25 years of my life were far from that. Deep inside my brain laid the history of one wild and wacky life, but that would soon be put on it's end in a little over an hour later.

I walked through the chow line, grabbed my diet card, snagged some silverware and napkins, a milk, some fruit, and on to the main course. I forgot what we had that night, but most of the food was OK, and they had a different menu everyday. I walked out of the room that housed the chow line, and made a sharp right to grab a glass of ice-tea. It was self-serve, which made it nice, as you could have as much as you wanted. I scanned the chow hall to see where I wanted to sit, and saw a couple of my friends on the far side, so there I went. The chow hall had these big round tables that seated 5-6 people. I took my seat, greeted my friends, while a couple more veterans sat down to join me and the others for dinner. One can make a lot of friends while in the hospital, as we all had a common bond, we were all veterans. Sure we still kidded each other about what branch of the service we were in, but that went without saying. But there was this camaraderie that is hard to describe unless one has actually gone through it, and served in the military. I know there have been countless studies done about this, but the bottom line was that we all, at one time or another, took an oath to protect and defend the Constitution, and our country against all enemies, with everything we had, up to and including our lives. Not too many jobs have that as a requirement. So, there we sat, chowing down on some fine VA Hospital grub, talking about only God knows what, and continuing our bonds as veterans.

I was just about done, and nobody really rushed to get done, because, once the kitchen decided that everyone had gone through once, they opened up the line for seconds. Most times I passed, and today was one of those days. I was seated with my back to the chow hall, and me facing the people across from me and the wall, and windows to the outside world. Most times I sat with my back to the wall, but not tonight, for whatever reason I do not remember. All of a sudden, to my left, I catch someone approaching. I look up and to my left, and it is Dr. Seymour Thickman, a spry 80+ year old primary care physician. He had been my primary care doctor from when I first arrived in Sheridan back in March of 1992. He was originally from New York, and he would always ask me when I was going to open a New York style deli in Sheridan, and I would respond with, well, show me the money. It was our own little back and forth that went on for years. It looked like he was coming over to me, and I just figured he saw me and wanted to say hi. Boy, was I wrong. When he got to me, on my left side, I looked up at him and said hi, and he responded, "Billy, we just got your MRI results back, and this is what I want you to do. I have sent over a Philadelphia Collar, so when you get back to SNU, and I want you to put it on immediately, and don't take it off. I have tried calling the Denver VA to speak the chief resident in neurosurgery to get you set up to go down there as soon as possible. I'm the duty officer tonight, and I should hear something back from him soon. And, they found some strange things in your brain." And then he left. I was speak less for a short while, and one of my friends asked, "What's wrong with you?" I said, "I have no fucking clue, you heard him, so you know as much as I do." I really couldn't finish what little food I had left. So, this is great, I have to wear this Philadelphia Collar, whatever the hell that is, and there is strange things in my brain. No need for me to eat dessert, as I have more important things to do. So, off I went, back to SNU, chain-smoking, and having racing thoughts going through my mind at light speed all the way to the unit, and all night long. So much for my bi-polar medication helping with my racing thoughts.

So on October 15, 2003, one door opened as another door closed, and so began the next chapter in my life...

I tell ya, this has been the...

longest period of time that I have actually written in a journal/blog/diary or whatever you would like to call it on a regular basis. It isn't always daily, but I've been somewhat consistent. I tend to be lazy at times, and I'll say I'll do this or that, and I procrastinate doing what it was I was going to do. So, maintaining this writing thing is important to me. A lot of it doesn't make sense, but that really doesn't matter because it is sort of a analogy for my life, a lot of it doesn't make sense. I bet when you read the title you thought I was going to say something about the Inauguration Day events, or Obama or how this was the greatest day of my life or nation or God only knows what. Nope, didn't want to mess with that, at least not yet. I kind of go where ever my brain takes me, even if it's a train-wreck.

Today was an important day for it was the first day of President Obama's term as President of the United States of America. I watched throughout the day, as I had CNN and MSNBC on, switching between to 2, until I got tired of Keith Olbermann harping on Ted Kennedy and him being taken away during the luncheon. And, like many misinformed in the media, he kept talking about Kennedy's brain cancer. No, I didn't misstate what he said, it was brain cancer. Now, Kennedy had a brain tumor, a glioma, just like I have, just different location and grade, but otherwise it is similar. It is a primary BRAIN TUMOR Keith!!!

Now, for the last 5 1/2 years I have read everything I could get my hands on about brain tumors, looked at scores of images, learned the parts of the brain and what they do, particularly where my tumor is located in the left middle cerebellar peduncle, with extension into the ipsilateral cerebral hemisphere, pons and into the medulla. Also shows expansion of the middle cerebellar peduncle. Extension into the pons fails to show any evidence of crossing the midline. There is an element of involvement of the superior cerebellar peduncle as well, and that is on the left as well. This information was from one of my MRIs, repeated often in every MRI I have gotten in the past 5+years. It is a Low Grade Glioma, which means it is slow growing, and according to Dr. Kerry Brega, my neurosurgeon, it is very slow growing. sort of like I'm an anomaly. The down sides are 2 important things, that being its' location, and the probability that it could decide to start growing any time it wishes. The symptoms are also significant, but not life threatening. We made the decision 5 years ago to constantly monitor it, because attempting to remove it could cause serious problem, effecting my quality of life, or even death. So we went with the monitoring option for the time being. It's sort of like a ticking timebomb in my brain, and who knows what could trigger it to decide it should get busy? I don't and neither do the doctors. But it is in an area that controls basic life functions including blood pressure, heart beat, and breathing. I'm rambling again, oops!

Now back to Mr. Keith Olbermann. and him continuing to call Ted's Brain Tumor brain cancer.

From the ABTA -
-A malignant brain tumor is life-threatening, invasive, and tend to grow at a more rapid pace than a benign tumor. Malignant brain tumors are sometimes called brain cancer even though they do not meet the true definition of "CANCER" (Since primary brain tumors rarely spread outside the brain and spinal cord, they do not exactly fit the general definition of "cancer" -- a tumor that has the ability to spread to other organs of the body. Since primary brain tumors tend to stay in the brain, they do not meet the true definition of cancer.) Thus, within the brain tumor community, you’ll hear the words "benign" or "malignant" or "lesion" or "tumor" but never, or hardly ever hear "cancer", "brain cancer", or "cancerous!" NEVER, unless it is about a metastatic brain tumor.
A brain tumor is a mass of unnecessary, and abnormal, cells growing in the brain. When doctors describe brain tumors, they often use the words "benign" or "malignant." But what do those words really mean? The words “benign” or “malignant” generally refer to how unusual the tumor cells look under a microscope when compared to normal brain cells. Tumors with cells that look similar to normal cells, yet aren’t quite normal, are called “benign” tumors. Tumor cells that are very different in appearance are called “malignant.” And between the “not quite normal” and the “very unusual” are the tumors referred to as low grade or mid-grade.
But it is not always easy to classify a brain tumor as "benign" or "malignant" as many factors other than pathological appearance play a role in their outcome.
A "benign" brain tumor consists of very slow growing cells, usually has distinct borders, and rarely spreads. When viewed microscopically, the cells have an almost normal appearance. Surgery alone might be an effective treatment for this type of tumor. A brain tumor composed of benign cells, but located in a vital area, can be considered to be life-threatening - although the tumor and its cells would not be classified as "malignant."
Benign brain tumors may be considered malignant if they are located in a part of the brain that controls vital life functions, such as heartbeat or breathing.
Some types of malignant brain tumors can spread to other locations in the brain and spine, but they rarely spread to other parts of the body. They lack distinct borders due to their tendency to send "roots" into nearby normal tissue. They can also shed cells that travel to distant parts of the brain and spine by way of the cerebrospinal fluid. Some malignant tumors, however, do remain localized to a region of the brain or spinal cord.
One other type of brain tumor is always considered malignant. Cancer cells that begin growing elsewhere in the body and then travel to the brain form “metastatic” brain tumors. For example, cancers of the lung, breast, colon and skin (melanoma) sometimes spread to the brain. All metastatic brain tumors are malignant since they began as cancer elsewhere in the body. -

- Courtesy of the American Brain Tumor Association - Benign vs. Malignant -

OK, I went off topic, like I had one to begin with. The Inauguration Day stuff was nice, and I kind of welled up with emotional on a couple of occasions, which I do a lot, especially if I'm watching something that is emotional. Makes sense to me. Ever see "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants"? It makes me happy to see that a majority of our country's voters got past their prejudice or bias toward black folks, or brown folks, or mixed race folks. Oh they still may be prejudice and bias a little, but were able to vote for Barack Obama. That is great, as we are heading in the right direction. Yay America!!! Yay!!! Check out Project Implicit out of Harvard, as it is quite interesting. I know I nitpicked today, but this has been going on since Ted was diagnosed with his Brain Tumor last May 2008. I wish Sen. Ted Kennedy, President Obama, and Sen. Byrd the best, and hope the two sick Senators get well soon. And Barack, it is time to kick some ass and take some names! Now, and don't forget to prosecute the War Criminals, because I don't want Cheney coming back to Wyoming, ever!

Sometimes in life...

There comes a time to re-evaluate ones' self, an inventory that goes deep into one's soul and being. I use to think I did that on a regular basis, and to some extent I did, all be it a half-assed effort, but the question now is, was and is it thorough? The simple answer is No! The solution is not that simple, but I will truly give it my best shot. That sounds so cliche', what the hell does "I'll give it my best shot" mean? Life is like a quilt, and not like "Ring Toss" at the carnival. I am a mixture of many pieces, but the problem is this quilt was put together by a drunk, and it is really fucked up, even after washing, cleaning and drying it on the wash line. It's time I really took a serious look at the quilt, and start from square one.

Since I started this blogging thing, and not just here or at Open Salon, or LiveJournal or many others, I have basically covered two topics. The first being my brain tumor, which is a priority in my life at this time, and secondly all the things that others did to offend me. Yes, poor little ole' me got offend by a plethora of things, events, issues, people, businesses and on and on. I talked about being clean and sober for the last 5 1/2 years (Which I have been for the most part.) on one hand, and how something or someone or some whatever offended me. There wasn't much spirituality there, and I was a complete contradiction of the whole spirituality mantra that I was espousing, promoting and falsely claiming to be me. I was a fraud and I am flawed, yet everyone, I think everyone, bought into my scam and facade because I could talk a good talk. I had decades of practice because I am an alcoholic. This quilt that was suppose to be my life was just a big pile of dirty rags.

Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree...

I'll miss you till 10 months from now,
It's time to take you down again.
Now I'll go out to feed the cow!
The cat is sad, he thinks' I'm bad.
There he runs off into his den,
I'll see you in 10 months, so I am glad.
Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree!

I know, it doesn't rhyme, but now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their Christmas Tree! And today is the day if I can get away from this damn computer, and stop watching all the coverage of Flight 1549. I guess I was wrong yesterday to say it was a theory about them damn Canadian Geese, but what do I know. There are far more intelligent folks out there then little old Brain-Tumor Billy! I give up, I'm stupid, and I should have known the answer. I can't forgive myself for casting doubt on these geniuses. The same freaking geniuses who never questioned BushCo over the last 7 years, or that we, the invading army, are going to be seen as liberators, or we'll be there just 6 months, or the guy that was fired by BushCo because he doubted the administrations optimistic prediction that the Police Action would only cost us US Citizens a mere 50-60 billion smackeroos, saying instead, it might be in the ballpark of over 100 billion smackeroos for our expeditionary military action. Oh, I mean that Iraq War thing, that we are still involved in, with the many, many thousands killed and maimed. And it will pay for itself with Iraqi OIL Money, because we were the liberators, and the free Iraqis will shower us with oil dollars, and US companies will reap exclusive contracts for extracting this black gold!! Ha! Ha! Ha! I better get to that Christmas Tree, or it's going to kick my fat ass! See ya Later, and signing out at 4:13pm MST. Ciao!

It's now 7:35pm MST and I am finally done. The Christmas tree is resting comfortably in the storage closet, (One of my cat's favorite hideout places because of all the nooks and crannies.) along with all the other Christmas decorations. Oh, such sweet memories, and in only 10 more months, we will do it all over again. So let's hear a big hurrah! HURRAH!!!

In less then 96 hours, the Bush Regime will be history, but the damage they have done to this country, and the world will last for decades. Bastards! I don't know if anyone actually watched Dubya's little Farewell Address last night, but I did, and I just wanted to throw up. All Dubya did was twist and spin everything to suit his supposed legacy, a legacy that we all, all be involuntary, are part of in someway or another. The man is a joke, and a sad excuse for a President. Good riddance to all the dirtbags. I just imagine sometimes what it would be like if McCain had won with Palin, because I think we all would have been screwed, big time. And what is Sarah doing these days, well she is whining about how everyone was so mean to her, and she didn't deserve it. Bullshit, she was just an ignorant, narcissistic, ego-centric troglodyte. Period. I really like this lady! One of the pseudo psychologists in my AA group always says that if you don't like something in a person, it is because you don't like that characteristic in yourself. Oh, and he also says he never gets angry. Ever. That is a fucking lie! Where were we, oh yeah, and how did I get from Christmas trees to Bush to McCain and Palin. It's that lack of concentration thing again.

Now that I'm thinking about it, Canada truly looks like a great place to go, and spend the rest of my life. I do have a lot of relatives up there, from my fathers' side, because that is where those immigrant Ukrainians went, Canada! Oh Canada...

There are so many things...

to write about, and sometimes I don't know where to start. Sometimes I have racing thoughts, although medication does help slow that down, most of the time. I will say to myself, "Self, today I will write about this subject, or that subject," and by the time I get around to it, I forgot what I wanted to write about, and have a head full of topics trying to rule by committee. And there is no clear cut majority. So, I have to make a decision, and then I'll say, "shit, that really wasn't what I wanted to write about, but I'll do it tomorrow." Then tomorrow becomes today, and then yesterday, and my mind is spinning like a ballerina on a case of Red Bull. Oops! Reality is weirder then fiction sometimes.

I changed the title of my blog, as I got tired of reminding myself that I had a brain tumor. Hey, I already knew that. People tend to identify themselves with something, like I'm a teacher, a dentist, an anthropologist, an insurance salesman, or whatever, but it tends to be their job. Ask anyone what or how they are doing, and they'll tell you about their job, school, the weather or something superficial, rather then speaking the truth, like they're a little depressed/happy/excited/lethargic/etc. today because of this, or that. Unless of course they are hypochondriacs, in which case they'll have every fucking symptom in the book, and have WebMD on speed dial, or the only thing they have bookmarked on their PC. My last housemate is like that, as is his sister, and I believe it is a mental health issue for them. Well, my job is being a "brain tumor patient". My life revolves around doctor appointment, labs, MRIs, traveling to Denver to see my neurosurgeons, more medical tests, and on and on. My part time job is my other physical ailments, like degenerative disc disease in my C-Spine, titanium in my neck, with more to follow, and problems with L-5 and S-1. But I know that I am more then that, and I don't have to sound morbid and be the victim all the time. So, that is why I changed the title. Sure, these things are not going away in the near future, but I don't have to use that to identify me. Oh no, I'm not going to go there anymore. I promise, but that doesn't mean I will never discuss it here, instead I will discuss it as I see fit. The funny thing is, that in my real life, not my internet/blogger life, I very rarely talk about this sibject, except with a fellow apartment complex neighbor who also has a brain tumor, and is a veteran. Her tumor has been resectioned, and the VA docs made a few minor errors, like the screws coming out of the plate in her head, but other then that, we can identify on a lot of levels. She is a nice lady, and we talk about our shelf lives, and even have a good laugh about screwing up their mortality statistics. I know, it sounds a little crazy and sick, but it helps keep us sane.

One last thing I forgot to point out during my critique of NWA was my return flight back to Wyoming. One positive about the trip was that it was on time. That was amazing. But on the second leg there were some issues on Flight-NW 3269, that was from Minneapolis/St.Paul-Int'l, MN. to Casper, WY. The departure date/time was December 29, 9:35 pm, and the arrival date/time was December 29, 11:00 pm. So, there are the flights specifics, but that wasn't the issue. Again, and I repeat again, it was customer service. I have a carry-on bag that I bring with me that contains specifically all my medications, (12 different bottles/types divided equally in 2 gallon size ziplock bags. The bottles are all laid on their sides, and side by side, and there is no double stacking.) my camera, which is small, and maybe a few granola bars. It is a small gym bag, and when pressed flat it is about 4 1/2" - 5" in height. I have occasionally thrown my Gonzaga University Pullover in there, which can be rolled up to the size of a softball if necessary. On my flight to NY, I flew the same type of aircraft, a CRJ, which is a 50 seat, twin jet aircraft, with 4 seat rows, 2 on each side, and overhead bins, although they are not quite as big as the bigger aircraft, and I have flown this specific aircraft many times, and my carry-on always fit up there with no problems.

NWA regulations about carry-ons are as follows:

Northwest allows you to carry one piece of baggage on board the aircraft plus a purse or briefcase or laptop computer or small backpack. The carry-on baggage must be of a size and shape to allow for storage in overhead compartments or underneath the seat in front of you.

Dimensions:

• Cannot exceed 45 linear inches (9 inches by 14 inches by 22 inches)
• My bag is 30 linear inches ( 13 inches by 9 inches by 8 inches, and the reality was that the height was only 5 inches maximum. It was smaller then a small backpack.)

Northwest Airlink flights operated by Pinnacle and Mesaba on CRJ aircraft allow each passenger to bring two personal items onboard. As always, items must fit in the overhead compartment or under the seat in front of you.
Personal Items are defined as:
In addition to your carry-on bag, customers may carry on a purse or briefcase or laptop computer or small backpack. Dimensions of the additional item must not exceed 15"x11"x6". At least one carry-on item should go beneath the seat in front of you.

The above is from NWA's website under carry-ons. Ummm, I see some interesting stuff here.

But Flight 3269 had Nurse Ratchet as its' lone flight attendant. She was in her late 50's, early 60's and had obviously seen a lot of airmiles. After going through the gate, the NWA employee said nothing about my carry-on, as he was also gate checking some of the carry-ons because they were too big for the overhead bins. Not mine though, as he said it was fine. I was about the 10th person to get into the aircraft door, and as I was about to board, Nurse Ratchet said, "You can't bring that duffel bag on board, you have to gate check it," and I said, "First of all, it isn't a duffel bag, it's a small gym bag, and secondly (Here is where I pull out my veteran who is disabled card.) I have all my medications in here as I am a disabled veteran with an inoperable brain tumor, and I may need my medications." and she says, "I don't care, it's a duffel bag to me, now go gate check or you can't board this aircraft." Well, the Gestapo had spoken, snapping her gum the whole time. I went back to the gate, and asked the gatekeeper for a gate check ticket, as Attila said I must gate check it. I really didn't refer to her as Attila, I was just thinking it. So, I got the gate check ticket, and the gatekeeper said, that lady, referring to Nurse Ratchet, is a witch. I would have used a "b" instead of a "w", but he was just being politically correct. I walked back to the aircraft's door, which now had a long line and I waited my turn to board. As I boarded the aircraft, Nurse Ratchet was there with a shit-eating grin on her face, and I said I did as you told me, but if I have some medical issue that requires me to use a medication immediately and can't get to my medications, well, me or my heirs will see you in court. She didn't say a word. As I got to my seat, which is always a window seat, I had to ask the person next to me to move so I could get in. I was in seat 5a, and I watched as the rest of the folks board the aircraft, and it was funny because some people were boarding with carry-ons that were 2 to 3 or even 4x's bigger then mine, but Attila said nothing. She just stood there and continued to chew on her gum, like a cow chewing it's cud. And this lasted the entire flight. Quite unprofessional I would say. She did avoid eye contact with me the entire flight, as I think she realized that I was pissed. But she probably didn't give a shit.

There are a few reasons why I didn't want to give up my bag, with them being, I had my meds in the carry-on, including narcotics, and I don't trust NWA with the security of my property because they are fuckups, my pullover was in the bag, and who knows what the temperture would be when we got to Casper, my apartment and car keys, along with my checkbook were in the bag, and finally, I don't trust NWA at all with anything of mine, including my life. I will never, I repeat never ever fly with them again, because they suck as a company that is suppose to deal in good customer service, and the reality is, they don't give a fuck about the customer.

NorthWest Airlines Sucks! Period! NWA Customer Service Sucks! Some NWA Flight Attendants Suck. Now that I have gotten that off my chest, I can move on at light speed....

In a land far, far away, I sat gazing off into the eastern sky and...

I get a kick from champagne...

or is that two large 16oz. black coffees in the morning. My psychiatrist would be pissed if he heard me say that. I like him as my shrink, but he is anti-caffeine. He makes sense with his argument, particularly when I am bi-polar. But, as usual, I don't listen to what he has to say some of the time. I do know that he gets a kick out of me, because every year he goes back to Mass. General for CME courses, and last year I came in with my certificates for .5 credits for CME courses I took online at e-medicine. My courses were all related to brain tumors, go figure, and I asked him how many credits he got for his 2 weeks of courses, and he told me 54 or 56, or something like that. Then I told him that at the rate I am going, it will about 100 years before I have enough credits to become a shrink. He just cracked up. But, seriously, he and his treatment team have helped me more in the last 5 1/2 years, then all the mental health help I received in the previous 23 years. I am sure my attitude helped to, but it was the first time that anyone actually looked at my personal history, rather then just look at the moment to make a diagnosis. And now for the rest of the story...

Just read some interesting stuff about Tom Geoghegan, a labor and civil rights lawyer from Illinois. He is running for Congress in the special election to fill Rahm Emmanuel vacancy in Illinois 5th District. The op-ed was about the 17th Amendment and was in the New York Times on 1-6-09.
Here is the link: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/07/opinion/07geoghegan.html

He has written quite a few books, none of which I have read. But my acquaintance David Sirota is a friend of his, and highly recommends him. So, I have started to read whatever I can find online, which is a lot, as he has been doing this labor and civil rights stuff for a few decades. I am impressed. As I watch these talking heads and sockpuppets on the boob tube, they truly crack me up, and are totally clueless about the real world, especially Wolfie Blitzer.

Arlen Specter is raising Cain about Holder, Obama's nominee for AG, and questioning his character. This is amazing coming from a man did little to rid us of Alberto the Turdo Gonzalez. It is amazing the double standard these damn hypocrites have, and if you want to talk about character or morals, where the hell have you been the last 8 years, ARLEN? Politics as usual. I think we should have that revolution Thomas Jefferson talked about having every generation. We need to rid ourselves of these two-faced faux royalty, and send them off to some retirement facility, and let them live on Social Security, and Medicare, and not their damn pensions and benefits. Political whores they are!

12 days later...

I am siting here watching CNN and all the talking heads, and why I am, I really can't explain, except I like to yell at Wolfie B. because he is such a turnip head at times. Ever since Ted Kennedy was diagnosed with his brain tumor (Nor Brain Cancer), Wolfgang constantly calls it brain cancer. Now there is a difference, they aren't interchangeable, and I have written Wolfy a dozen times explaining the difference, but the knucklehead continues to use the wrong terminology. "Stupid is, what stupid does." I don't usually quote Forrest, but this situation deserves it. So much for venting. I think I like the background noise, sort of being like work.

Now Alex Castellanos is on, or however you spell that dirt bags name. He is a right-winged neocon propagandist, and I would just love to take him behind the wood shed, or whatever you do to dirt bags like him. Even now he is constantly trying to stir up crap, yet Wolfy keeps putting him on the "Situation Room". It's like Wolf boys' version command and control center, like his own little NORAD. Still trying to make hay out of the election with Alex's asinine comments.

Another trip down to Denver in a week and a half, on Dec 3rd, for an MRI, and to see my neurosurgeon Kerry E. Brega, MD, (She is Associate Professor and Deputy Director of Residency Program, Co-Medical Director of Stroke Center @ University Hospital, University of Colorado Department of Neurosurgery) and she shares the clinical service at the Veteran’s Administration Hospital in Denver. I was down there in February 08' after an MRI I had in January 08', and then had another MRI in June, but didn't go down there for a consult because I did press the issue, as I was trying to find a place to move to, so I didn't want to set up something, and then have to cancel it. Even though my appointments are on DEC. 3rd, I fly down on Dec. 2, because I have some lab work at 9 am, then MRI at 10 am, then see my doc at 11 am. Usually I get my MRIs up here in Sheridan, at the VAMC here, but for some reason, they want me to get one down there. go figure. Too bad I couldn't have gotten frequent flyer miles from all my trips down there over the last 5 years, as I would have enough to travel around the world a few times. Only kidding, but they would have been a lot. I don't mind the flying, or the MRIs, but it is a long trip for a doctors appointment, at least by American standards. But I shouldn't complain, at least I have healthcare, something 10's of millions of Americans, and probably billions of earthlings don't have, or even have access to.

Sometime I am going to write about other interesting parts of my life, and they are too many to name right now, but the 14 months I just spent with my friend John (I am calling him John so he remains anonymous.) after I got evicted from an apartment I was living in because I complained about a broken elevator to the local newspaper. It is a long story, so for another time. Living with John was unique in so many ways, and weird in so many ways. That will be my next post, because no one will ever believe me what happened, but that really don't matter, but just writing about will help me.

Time for dinner, and maybe read some of my hundreds of e-mails I neglect! Ciao!

Day 1

I just setup this here blog, while I was watching Oklahoma St vs. Texas Tech. There are 3 seconds left in the first half, Techs winning 28 to 14, Oh the last play is incomplete, half over and...

So, now that I have that out of the way, on to the meat and potatoes. I will talk about my life, past, present and future, well, at least what I can see. As you can tell from the title, I have a brain tumor, a low-grade glioma in my left cerebellum, pons, peduncle, and medulla. It was discovered in an MRI in 2003, along with other neurological issues. I will cover this in detail sometime soon. Now, it is halftime, and I am going to fix dinner, for me and my cat Buddy. Oh, I am ecstatic that Barack won, as I am also a veteran. I'll explain that later too.

That is it for now, so Good Luck and Good Night!