chapter 3.5: goodnight, sweetheart. and a new diagnosis.

and so began my sleep.  and more sleep.  and more sleep.  sleep was all i wanted.  my head hurt.  my eye hurt.  it hurt to look at things.  it hurt to think about things.  sleep was my only peace.  i made the important phone calls.  just to let ’em know.  luckily, i had a friend to help.  a friend who became the liason between my unconscious state and those who were curious about it.  but i did wake up from time to time; on the 13th, my slumber was interrupted by a fun ride.  and at the end:  an MRI.  they put cotton in my ears and stuck my head in a little glass cage.  and for an hour and a half, i listened to what sounded like the mating call of the blue whale.  the machine, and my head, vibrated like a hydraulic’d ’78 Impala in Compton.  on a saturday night, baby.  i can’t sleep on my back, so i constantly dozed off only to be awakened by my halted breathing.  100 mini-naps (each more fulfilling than the next) later, i was back in my room.  thank god, now i can go back to sleep.  and sleep.  and sleep.

i talked to a girl, the girl…but try as i may, i couldn’t stay awake for long.  i texted…but try as i may, i couldn’t look at the screen for long.  sleep was all i wanted.  pain was all i felt.

the next day, on the 14th, the doctor came in.  THE doctor.  this time, not the internal medicine doctor who had come before.  it was the chief of neurosurgery.  St. Joseph’s hospital, by the way.  Burbank.  Corey Haim’s recent (and sadly, last) stop.  first things first:  the doctor said that my mass was NOT inside my brain, but rather OUTSIDE and in contact with my optical tract, hence the pain in my left eye.  (OUTSIDE, SHEW!).  in addition, i suddenly had an explanation for the VERTIGO i’d been experiencing for about a year.  also, he said the MRI showed that i had a tumor, not an aneurysm.  “can you say for 100% CERTAINTY that it’s not an aneurysm?”  “no.  but i’m telling you, it’s not an aneurysm.  i want you to see a doctor at USC.  he’ll look at you and then he and i will do the surgery.  we’ll cut a small bone fleck from your skull, and elevate your brain, and cut out the tumor.”  okay…that’s sounds hard

back to sleep.  and sleep.  and sleep.

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