Friday will be the first day of 3 weeks straight of my dome being nuked. Yeah, it's scary, but it has me somewhat hopeful. It's hard to get too hopeful, though. I feel like that's what's gotten me into this mess. Like I got too cocky, I recovered so easily from back surgery, amazed all my doctors, was out riding my horse, and lifting buckets of paint like nothing had every happened. I let my guard down, and got caught.
And not just with one lesion, actually I don't know how many in total, because the doc stopped counting after 12. And here I go being cocky again, but they seemed a little amazed that with the number of tumors I have in my head, that I'm not a drooling, deaf, blind, vegetable in a wheelchair.
I know that's a possibility, though. I don't want to face it, because I don't want it to seem like I'm giving up, but it's probably time for me to write a medical directive. Because, you really just never know.
Back to being hopeful! The whole thing that tipped me off that something wasn't right in my head (besides the usual) was a change in my vision. I am a visual artist, not only my career, but a huge part of my identity relies on my ability to see and create art. That has been seriously threatend, and because so far with all that has happened to me, I assumed that the damage that has been done could merely be halted at best, but not reversed. The doctors told me there is a possibility of my vision getting better. And a possibility is all I need.