Giant Pink Elephants

I Gots A Tumor

Interlude B
or
How to Not Think About A Giant Pink Elephant When Everyone Around You Is Shouting "Giant Pink Elephant!"

Most of you have already read this little tale, especially if you were one of my Facebook "friends" back in June, 2013.

But since so many people enjoyed it there, and because Facebook has a truly shitty interface when it comes to finding old posts, I have decided to repost these classic bits of literature on this, my own personal website blog thing.

If you did read these as they originally appeared on Facebook, you will find little changed. I've even ported the comments over from that site, but have anonymized them, hiding the true identities of the posters.

If you want to read the series from the start, you should begin with Part Uno.

Let us begin:

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Dateline: Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Lately I've been getting a lot of inquiries into the status of my brain health. I usually get two or three of these a week, usually in the form of a question like "What the hell were you thinking?" or "How can you be such an idiot?"

Over the last two weeks there has been a slight up-tick in these queries, mostly asking about my MRI.

As many of you, my gentle readers, know, I recently stuck my head in a basket and was told to lie down and hold still while a giant, whirring magnet was passed around my brain-bucket making very loud banging noises.

I did as the man in the pajamas asked and lay very still, concentrating hard on not thinking about itchy noses or narrow caskets. I managed to prevail, of course, and, you'll be happy to know, survived the experience with very little trauma.

Then I was told to wait. I had the MRI nearly two weeks ago. My consultation to review the MRI was on July 25. Or that's when it was scheduled. Unfortunately, I got a call before the appointment and was given some bad news - Could I come in on the 8th of August instead? It seems that my doctor would be unavailable until then.

Apparently his "wife" gave "birth" to a "baby." For some reason the bastard has decided that his family is more important than my life. He delayed my "brain review meeting" for two weeks while he stays at home and stares at his new baby. I know it's his first, but come on - after two hours, you've pretty much seen the whole show.

I'm not kidding. It's not like the kid can do anything. And I'm sure his wife can survive without his help. With a neurosurgeon's salary I have to assume he has plenty of house servants who can help. And I bet they all drive better cars than mine.

Anyhow, several folks have told me I should see this delay as good news - if my life were really in danger, the doctor would definitely have got me into surgery immediately - new baby or not.

But if you know me, you know that not only do I see the proverbial glass as half empty, I also say it's too damn small. No; if I were out of danger the doctor would have called already and told me so. It must be really bad if he is making me wait this long. He's probably been using his "family leave" to A) Talk to lawyers to see if he can increase his liability insurance, 2) Submit proposals to write up his unbelievable findings to the New England Journal of Medicine, and iii) Sell the film rights to this incredible story about MY freaky brain.

That's why he hasn't called me.

Or, maybe he's just busy.

It all gives me a big headache to think about - and you know, that just worries me even more.

Comments

MAK (My friend and a KC school nurse):  I just had a weird John Harvey kind of thought......What if u do need surgery and once u wake up u find yourself unable to write?????? Maybe there is something different about your brain which allows you to be a successful writer!!??!!

MAK:  Hurry up. Start writing your novel before it's too late!!!

Me:  Oh - that's your motivation I thought you were trying to talk me out of having surgery (if I need it)?

MAK:  Just sayin

MAK:  I care about u and your health but also think there is a quirky novel fighting to get out!!

CAC (One of my closest friends, he currently resides in Austin):  I believe some of the tools in the pic above can be used to help that quirky novel "get out" of his brain. I'm happy to help with that. I'm very good at "fixing" things.

Me:  Hey CAC, you were already my second choice if this Neurosurgeon flakes out on me. Now we just have to find a really small slinky.

CAC:  I'll sharpen up my Playschool doctor kit!

MAK:  Ahem. I Ammmm a nurse!

CAC:  So we've got a good team forming. Just need someone with a rubber hose and some kind of knockout gas (or car exhaust).

Me:  True, MAK:  - But have you watched Buckaroo Bonzai?

CAC:  Why's that watermelon there?

CAC:  No no no. Don't pull on that. You don't what it might be attached too.

Me:  Watermelon? Long story . . .

CAC:  Once you get down to a certain level, it all pretty much looks the same.

Me:  Chuckle

Me:  You know, I just realized! I fixed your cat!

CAC:  Oops. gotta go. Meeting starting in 11 minutes.

Me:  l8r

RAS (Another of my closest friends, he lives close enough to make it to the Fillmore Pub occasionally):  People please. Obviously we should do the surgery in my garage. It's very clean, I have sawhorses we can use to make a table, I have various small pointy pick things, a Dremel, a hacksaw, several sizes of pliers and clamps, an oil drain pan, and a beer fridge. You can even stay in the guest room a couple of days to recover.

And remember; no matter where you go, there you are.

MAK:  Yes. I have watched the adventures of buckaroo bonzai multiple times!!

MAK:  Richard we will need a LOT of alcohol!!!

Me:  Excellent point - so, how soon can you get down here MAK: ? I think we can forgo the whole "MRI Review" and just get started.

MAK:  Let me check my calendar. I start fulltime work tomorrow! My next long weekend off is Labor day werkend.

MAK:  By then we should know where to make the first incision with the dremel.

Me:  Ehhhxcellent

RAS:  Oh! I have an ice cream scoop too. That should be perfect for, you know, scooping stuff. Like brains.

CAC:  RS:  do you have a working knowledge of the effect on the human body of various gases, liquids, or blunt instruments? We still need someone to put him under so he doesn't squirm too much.

RAS:  I have a rubber mallet.

Me:  I'm laughing pretty hard right now.

I remember a concoction called, "The Manifesto!" that had quite the impact on me. Maybe we could bring in that famous mixologist Cpt. Wayne Danger (not to be confused with Carlos Danger) for a consultation. I hear he will usually settle for a tank of gas.