by Susan Tweit
Last month, my husband Richard and I drove over the mountains to Denver for what we thought would be a routine brain MRI to monitor his recovery from brain cancer. Only the images showed something distinctly abnormal: several suspicious spots deep in the lower edge of his right temporal lobe.
Richard’s oncologist conferred immediately with Radiology and Neurosurgery. Their consensus: Most likely tumors, and if so, aggressive ones.
His oncologist sent us upstairs to consult with the neurosurgeon who had removed Richard’s original brain tumor the previous October.
Given how deep the suspicious spots were, the neurosurgeon said, she’d bring in a colleague who had more experience with “difficult brain real estate.”
Back at home the following day, the neurosurgery department called with a date for his brain surgery, two weeks hence.
And we headed off to The Nature Conservancy’s Carpenter Ranch on the Yampa River in northwestern Colorado, where we’ve been awarded a working residency to transform a quarter-acre of water – an energy-consumptive lawn behind the historic ranch house into a teaching landscape that will help visitors understand the stories of the ranch and the surrounding landscape through sculptural structures and native, heritage and edible plants.
We spent five days waking to the resonant voices of sandhill cranes, studying the ranch yard and its surroundings, reading historical accounts, getting mosquito-bitten and mellow – and talking about Richard’s upcoming surgery.
He started stating an intention each day. Friday’s was, “A week from now, I will wake in the ICU; I’ll be pretty miserable, but I’ll be celebrating a successful surgery.” The next day, he said, “A week from today, I will be celebrating moving from the ICU to a regular ward,” and so on.
On surgery day, we arrived at the hospital at quarter to six; by seven, he had been whisked to the operating room. A few hours later, our daughter Molly joined me in the crowded waiting room.
The day dragged “excruciatin’ slow.” Finally, at three-thirty, the neurosurgeon came out to brief us on the successful operation, which removed all of the tumors – and also much of his right temporal lobe. Half an hour later, we were in his room in the ICU as he came out of the anesthesia.
It took him two days to move from ICU, not one, as he intended, but he is missing a fair chunk of his right brain. The very next day, three days after his brain surgery, he passed his PT, OT, and cognitive function tests, and was released to go home.
As I write this, the man I have loved for the better part of three decades is asleep in our bedroom, beginning what will be a long recovery.
We have worked on various projects over the years – from raising Molly to restoring a block of urban creek to health – but we never imagined we’d be collaborating, as he puts it, on his journey with brain cancer. I can’t see the path ahead, but I have faith in our partnership, and the power of his positive intentions.
Award-winning writer Susan J. Tweit is the author of 12 books, and can be contacted through her web site, susanjtweit.com or her blog, susanjtweit.typepad.com/
Copyright 2010 Susan J. Tweit
