"Therapy...like head therapy."

I made a quick trip to Kalamazoo on Thursday to see my former housemates and company. I had no idea how much I missed them and my simple, little life there! I was within two blocks of the library, and four blocks of a fantastic movie theater. I was within two blocks of a very agreeable bar, and my house was both beautiful and comfortable. And, most importantly, I was living with people who are warm, kind, and interesting. Why was I so eager to leave?! I had worked it out so that my visit was a surprise to two of my friends-- always fun to have someone shrieking with delight upon seeing you. Yeah, that doesn't get old! And while the Red Wings couldn't seem to get their shit together to secure a win that night, it was so great to be watching them at what used to be my corner bar. (It was the Cheers to my Norm.)

It was also nice to touch base with people who know me fairly well. Ryan and Pilar were both privy to all of my basic WTFiness; I can't hide anything from them. So, even if people have been telling me that I look fine or that I look like I'm doing well, it holds more weight hearing it from people who are a) not bound to tell me so based on blood relations and b) not strangers to seeing me in a slump. I can't even count the hours spent on the couch with Pilar, or over a pitcher with Ryan, dissecting our lives and what motivated our decisions. It's comforting to know that 8 months later, we were able to pick up where we left off. That is a gift.

I had my first session with a therapist on Tuesday-- I can't believe it's taken me almost four months to realize that my recovery had to go beyond the physical. In terms of efficiency, I should've taken that step much sooner. Better late than never! But, honestly, I wish my doctors had warned me that by having serious surgery, I'd be taking a seat on a wicked, unpredictable roller-coaster. (To be honest, the Stanley Cup finals have contributed at least a little to that unpredictability. And to inject a little current history into this entry, Dan Cleary is my new dream-weaver. Who else was slack-jawed by his first period goal in Game 5?) During my first therapy session, the doctor sort of gave me the impression that I would've been nuts to NOT be seeing someone. I guess that is sort of her job, but it made me feel a little more validated in needing some help. For the last, what, 6 weeks or so?, I've been realizing how f-ing scared I am about getting a job [if I can even find one!!] and being independent again. It's comforting that in these sessions, I'll be getting some tools to deal with that fear, and handle any obstacles that may present themselves.

Speaking of jobs, my former boss, Lisa, has offered me some hours. I am pants-crappingly excited about it. Lisa is a great mentor to me and I couldn't ask for a better stepping stone back to the real world. I am a little worried about the physical aspect of the job, but one of the things I loved most about working for Lisa was that at the end of each day, I'd have a physical result of my work; I was actually producing something. I hope that my back and shoulders are quick to adjust to being active again. (I have a bottle of ibuprofen at the ready.) I also hope that my manual and digital wonkiness won't get in the way.

Earlier today, I was sauteeing some onions and some hot oil splattered on my right wrist...now, it was fairly uncomfortable, but thanks to my subcutaneous nerves still being on sabbatical, it didn't really hurt. Silver lining! I am heading to Cincinnati for another visit to the neuro-oncologist, and my last post-surgical appointment. At this point, I am a fan of anything that seems like a bookend to my tumor WTFiness. And the term "last post-surgical appointment" reeks of a bookend. Here's hoping everything is as it should be!