grade 3...

tomorrow. finally tomorrow i'll get the pathology results. in less than 24 hours i will know and i can start moving forward.

i talked to dr. neff today, who went to the lab himself to find out what was taking so long, and he told me a lot of stuff about cell growth and stains and blah blah blah, and then he said, "we'll know for sure when the report is finished, but it looks to me like we're dealing with something a little worse than i had first thought, but not as bad as it could be." and of course i wanted to know what that meant. so here goes... as i understand it, tumors are categorized as grades, ranging from 1 (very benign) to 4 (very malignant). originally, he had thought that this was a 1 or a 2. after these tests, it looks like a 3.

i had an appointment with my primary care doc today that i had made a while ago, before all of this happened, to see if (of all things) she could prescribe me some acne meds so i can clear up my skin before schoss's wedding in july. ah, vanity. so i went, with a much different agenda than when i set up the appointment, and i told her all of this, and she said to me, "that's cancer. you know that, right?" and i said (crying, of course, because i seem to burst into tears all the time now), "yep."

but then she said, "well, we have to get it out." not, "oh you're going to die", but "we have to get it out", as if it's a bad houseguest who is drinking all of the beer. so maybe it's not so bad. i mean, it's bad, obviously--i have brain cancer. but maybe i'll survive it. i mean, obviously i'll survive it. but maybe this won't be as bad as i fear. she thinks that what dr. neff will suggest will be surgery to remove as much as can be removed, then radiation and possibly some chemotherapy. i say bring it on--let's get this bastard out of my body before it invites its friends.

now, before anybody gets fooled into thinking i'm being really strong despite just having gotten a preliminary cancer diagnosis, let me just say that i freaked out earlier today. and i cried in my doctor's office. and tomorrow, when i hear all of this in it's actuality, i will probably cry again, and then freak out. but now i'm in a good moment. it's a beautiful day, i just took the dog out for a walk, she got peed on by a great dane in the dog park. things could be worse--at least i wasn't peed on.

(i mean, sure, i could tell you how the whole time today during the baby shower we had at work for one of my co-workers i was thinking about how maybe i'll never know what it feels like to be pregnant or to have a kid to ground for doing something stupid, but you've read enough of that in earlier entries and it's all terribly boring anyway.)

things will get worse. and they'll get better. and then they'll get worse again. and then they'll get better. my goal is to make sure they spend more time on the better end than on the worse. and that ultimately they end on the better.

the big C. right behind heart disease for the biggest killer. well, screw you, big C. you picked the wrong brain (quite possibly the worst pun ever made) in which to crash.

one more thing (and i hope i don't die and suddenly these blog postings become something that gets distributed to my family at the funeral), i went to confession this afternoon. i went because more than anything, i'm looking for some courage and some peace of mind and somewhere to draw some strength. so i fell back on the most basic of my catholic grade school tenets--need help? talk to a priest!

well, as i should have predicted, it didn't exactly turn into the soul-cleansing moment of clarity i hoped it would be. despite my attempts to explain to the priest, who was a very kind man and very well-versed in the chatechism, that i didn't know what to do with my fears and my weakness at a time in my life in which i wanted faith and strength, he went through the 10 commandments to make sure we covered all of my sins.

sigh... what was i thinking? it was the sacrament of reconcilliation! at least now i can go forward with a clear conscience, except that i don't really feel repentant for having "fornicated". he told me as my penance to read psalm 86. i haven't done it yet. could it be that my solace and strength could be in that psalm? i won't put that expectation on it, but i'll try to be open to whatever it has to tell me.

and, despite the 8 to 10 years that have passed since i've gone to confession, i still managed to recite the act of contrition verbatim. damn right. see that brain tumor? you ain't got shit (oh well, there goes that clearing of conscience for the swear words).

tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow...