Читать книгу No Color For Me - Claudia Harris - Страница 5

THE JOURNEY JUMPSTARTS

Everything seemed backward. Ahead was a sharp U-turn with jagged bends in the road to finding my color.

When the doctor first gingerly approached me to reveal the news about my diagnosis…my reaction was surprisingly one of relief. I was so glad that I didn’t have mad-cow disease, with the horrible images that had been on TV of the stumbling cattle, or the dreaded brain cancer, which in my mind was going to require complete brain removal!

It took me a while to process that I had something “serious”. It doesn’t deserve to be called by name. It wasn’t invited.

I chose silent denial until symptoms would be obvious. While trying to hide any signs, it was such a quandary whether to tell anyone. I dreaded questions that I’d have to answer. If I couldn’t even ask myself the same questions, how was I going to tell strangers? I deserved the award for “Best Actress in an Imaginary Role”.

By the way, I wonder if my son became a veterinarian, so he could fix those cows.

DO I HAVE IT???

No matter how many times we’re told that it’s probably not hereditary, everyone seems to know someone who has a relative who also had it…

What is the effect on the family…wondering whether you have the dreaded “defective gene”, or whether you are going to spend your treasured retirement caring for an invalid. How can anyone possibly plan emotionally or financially for such a commitment? Being a caregiver is a one-way street, reserved for angels on earth who can give more than they have.

My husband and best friend, Chuck, who died unexpectedly, was a kind and gentle man. Neither of us ever said it out loud, but everyone assumed that I’d be the first to go. What quickly appeared was the same raincloud that must follow parents of specially challenged children every minute of every day. Who will take care of them when I’m gone?

PANTS ON THE GROUND, PANTS ON THE GROUND

HOLES IN YOUR HEAD, HOLES IN YOUR HEAD

Holes in my brain…

They said my first MRI looked like Swiss cheese and my brain lit up like a night sky. I should have never looked at it, because I can’t get the image of my head out of my head! I wish it would slide out one of the holes. At least my picture lit up. I shined on film!

Does this mean I can eat as much Swiss cheese as I want?

It felt like my brain was a field of groundhog holes and I was a ground hog.

I’ve given some of the holes names. Some I know well, and some I’ve yet to meet. The potential list is both complete and secret. They will come unannounced and will allow things to go in and out as they please. That must be mind control. It’s like putting your hand into the wet concrete at the Hollywood Walk of Fame and you accidentally push all the way through to China. Some of the names I know are: Walk Hole, Cry Hole, Music Hole, Brain Asshole, See Hole, and more. But, my favorite hole is the one that has carefully guarded and has not let anything out and that is the Fun Hole. Let’s avoid, but look into and through these potholes on the path ahead.