post the post-op visit to the neurosurgeon

As per an earlier post: some clarification but nothing really new from the neurosurgeon. Yes, it's GBM, glioblastoma multiforme  (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glioblastoma) and I will be dead -- according to good statistics -- in 12 months' time. So.

Being the organised person that I am, I have written down the current state of play, from what it is to what was done to what will happen next. I've emailed that off to the neurosurgeon to see if he can skim it, check and correct any misconceptions. Then I'll post it as a status report for early-September 2017. (Is that optimistic? Adding the year to that date?!)

After blogging then ignoring a bit of a mood swing (last night) I read for a while then went to bed. Slept soundly. Woke up on time to send Deb off to work.

For the past few months I have enjoyed driving Deb in to work. So I think: I could drive Deb to work today -- but I'm not allowed to drive so I would be a passenger. Then I could sit in the car in the carpark for eight hours. And drive Deb home -- with Deb driving. Hmm. No. I think I can see the weakness in that arrangement...

So Deb drives to work and I stay at home. With the surgeon's reassurance that it's okay to leave me alone. And -- despite that reassurance -- Deb and I swap a few emails during the day.

It's actually very nice to be sitting at home. More 1984 double-think: I miss Deb and am also glad to be alone.

The weather is fine and mild. I do a load of washing, hang it out, email a bit. Write and send that draft "status report" that I mention above. Read a bit, do the crossword, eat lunch.

My appetite -- for the last week or so -- has been ferocious! Hospital food is good but -- I believe -- lacks the excess bulk that my stomach expects. I'm getting enough for good digestion, but... I notice that I have lost 1kg since yesterday. Finally, however, today's lunch does fill me up. Finally :-)

Digestion, though, leads to an interesting experience. Which I shall post separately -- with warnings.

Meanwhile:

A phone call, just before lunch. It's the radiation centre, to set up an appointment for, you guessed it, radiation oncology. (If that's the right words.) I note and agree to the date and time, give my email address for further information to be sent.

Five minutes later -- after quite a bit of google searching -- I phone them back. Phone back the radiation centre, that is. I ask the important questions:

Did you just phone me? Who are you? What is the doctor's name? Where are you? No, don't be silly, *of course* I remember the date and time for the appointment...

You know, it's lucky that I have *brain* cancer. My ability to instantly forget who I am talking to, used to embarrass me. (Used to, in recent years I have just accepted it.) Now, however, I can simply smile sweetly and expect sympathy and understanding...

Now, back to an attempt to describe and post that earlier "interesting experience". The Poo Incident. With that hint, you may or may not want to read all about it...

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Now much more than a clever name for a holiday journal:

 https://notdotdeaddotyet.blogspot.com.au/  :-)

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Dr Nick Lethbridge / Consulting Dexitroboper
Agamedes Consulting / Problems ? Solved
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​"Once people have food and drink and shelter, the next thing they must find is a quarrel." … Asmander, per Adrian Tchaikovsky