Scene of the crime

It is very weird to be writing an entry from my grandmother's living room-- I have such visceral memories of sitting here, crying like a goddamn crazy person, pouring my heart out, and feeling so raw. It's weird-- getting through the first few weeks after my surgery was awful, and I hope I never have to withstand pain like that again...never being fully comfortable, always being in a drug-haze, doing ersatz-Lamaze to tolerate a muscle spasm. Suck City. That said, those weeks were also really wonderful. I had family around me, I felt really supported, I didn't second-guess anything I had to express, everything was crystal-clear. I wish that I could get that part back-- for a few weeks, I felt like a few of my defensive layers were pulled back, and it was nice to be out of my own way. Nowadays, I feel like I'm dealing with about 30% of the physical discomfort from those weeks, but I have 0% of the other stuff to make it worth the trouble. I know that finishing another course of PT would make that 30% shrink-- but it's so uncomfortable! I've been spending the last 8 months navigating my world to minimize discomfort, and I really felt validated in doing so. I don't want to do anything that makes me MORE sore, thanksverymuch. I just want to go one day without wincing, taking ibuprofen, or needing to sit down and rest my head in my hands.

I'm in Cincinnati right now for a few reasons. Practically, I have an appointment with the neuro-oncologist on Tuesday. He's going to look at an MRI that I'll get earlier in the day, and he'll give me a clean bill of health, and I'll have 4 months where I won't have to think about tumors, until I have to see him again. Personally, my West Coast relatives are in town, and one of my three East Coast aunts are here, too. My grandmother has finally made the decision to give up her house and move into a place for seniors. (It's a dorm for grandparents.) So, in the coming weeks/months, the house she's occupied with various members of her family will have to be cleared out, packed up, and vacated. Aside from the visits here and there, this house has been the meeting point for our annual 4th of July reunion. Every summer, the whole clan congregates for volleyball, cards, water balloons, lots of wine and beer, mosquito bites, and familial misadventures. This past 4th was the first one I can remember when I wasn't with my mom's family-- I have it on good authority that I was 26-for-26, attendence-wise, for the rest of them. I got to live through an entire generation of this tradition, and it's going to be tough to watch it shift as it surely will.