Just some brain tumor schumor for the weekend...To all those women feeling blessed, er, or rather cursed at times with being a true blonde, I can relate. I entered the world as a towhead, but not even sun and saline summers I spent year after year along the Pacific coast could preserve what Mother Nature had bestowed upon me. At nearly 42, (ok, only 41!) it’s actually sandy blonde and I have to pay what freelancing income (rather pittance) I don’t have, to achieve the gorgeous caramel and honey hues my 7-year-old daughter was naturally blessed with.
Lest I digress, I’ve had my fair share of “Dumb Blonde Jokes” sent to me. You all know the ones I’m referring to like “How can you tell if a blonde's been using the computer? There's white-out on the screen.” Or “Why do blondes take the pill?So they know what day of the week it is.”
And if being blonde wasn’t bad enough, nine years ago I discovered I had a brain tumor—a baseball-size tumor known as a meningioma, which shockingly had occupied my cranium for well over a decade. http://www.meningiomamommas.org/tumor.htm
And if being blonde wasn’t bad enough, nine years ago I discovered I had a brain tumor—a baseball-size tumor known as a meningioma, which shockingly had occupied my cranium for well over a decade. http://www.meningiomamommas.org/tumor.htm
So large was my uninvited guest that, like a schoolyard bully, it had actually shoved and pushed the right side of my spongy brain into its hemispheric left-sided counterpart. I’m convinced--or at least I tried selling this argument to my parents for years--this is why I wasn’t granted admittance into Columbia, Northwestern, CAL, (it’s too painful to name the rest), prestigious journalism programs.
Within days I was scheduled for surgery to remove the roommate that had invaded my brain and my life. I was told at the time that had my neurosurgeon not already been booked (I thought you only booked airline tickets and fancy dinner reservations), my half day surgery would have taken place within 24 hours.
It’s a miracle I survived considering how life threatening my blood thirsty tumor was and the fact that it was so tough and fibrous (as noted in my play by play path report) that in order to extract it, it was thinly sliced like deli meat.
Not long after my surgery I became more aware of how people reacted when I proclaimed I was a brain tumor survivor. Inevitably, the common reaction was, “You look too good to have had brain surgery.” Translation—why didn’t I resemble Herman Munster? OR people nearly gave themselves whiplash wondering how and where my tumor was removed. It didn’t take long before I offered an automated response, “Yes, the entire new line of Home Depot Dual Bevel Slide Miter Saws and DeWalt 18 volt compact drill drivers were demoed on my head!”
In fact, it’s become one of my many favorite mantras, which I don’t hesitate to share—the world needs to know that you can survive major surgery--including brain surgery. If you can’t talk about it and laugh at yourself, then this scary life altering subject will only continue to be shrouded in secrecy. And I’ve noticed that when I talk openly about not only being blonde but a brain tumor survivor as well, people lose the nervous laughter. They usually move in closer, cautiously inch by inch, curious about the bowling ball grip (courtesy of neurosurgeon drilling and tumor excavation) I point out beneath my highlighted hairline.
The best part about being a brain tumor survivor is being alive and reinventing myself. So without further adieu and in hopes of catching David Letterman’s attention, I present…
Top Ten Brain Tumor Survivor Benefits
Within days I was scheduled for surgery to remove the roommate that had invaded my brain and my life. I was told at the time that had my neurosurgeon not already been booked (I thought you only booked airline tickets and fancy dinner reservations), my half day surgery would have taken place within 24 hours.
It’s a miracle I survived considering how life threatening my blood thirsty tumor was and the fact that it was so tough and fibrous (as noted in my play by play path report) that in order to extract it, it was thinly sliced like deli meat.
Not long after my surgery I became more aware of how people reacted when I proclaimed I was a brain tumor survivor. Inevitably, the common reaction was, “You look too good to have had brain surgery.” Translation—why didn’t I resemble Herman Munster? OR people nearly gave themselves whiplash wondering how and where my tumor was removed. It didn’t take long before I offered an automated response, “Yes, the entire new line of Home Depot Dual Bevel Slide Miter Saws and DeWalt 18 volt compact drill drivers were demoed on my head!”
In fact, it’s become one of my many favorite mantras, which I don’t hesitate to share—the world needs to know that you can survive major surgery--including brain surgery. If you can’t talk about it and laugh at yourself, then this scary life altering subject will only continue to be shrouded in secrecy. And I’ve noticed that when I talk openly about not only being blonde but a brain tumor survivor as well, people lose the nervous laughter. They usually move in closer, cautiously inch by inch, curious about the bowling ball grip (courtesy of neurosurgeon drilling and tumor excavation) I point out beneath my highlighted hairline.
The best part about being a brain tumor survivor is being alive and reinventing myself. So without further adieu and in hopes of catching David Letterman’s attention, I present…
Top Ten Brain Tumor Survivor Benefits
10. Botox injections are painless if your face is numb like mine. I actually look forward to them, well that's if I did Botox.
9. My brain was occupied by a roommate, which explains why I wasn't accepted into an Ivy League school.
8. It's a great conversation starter: “I survived a brain tumor.”
7. It makes for really cool show and tell. I have an upside-down scar that resembles a question mark along my right ear.
6. I have a legitimate excuse for misplacing my keys, putting milk in the pantry and forgetting where I parked my car.
5. I’ll be on drugs for the rest of my life and am privileged to carry a dog-eared Walgreens frequent RX punch card.
4. I’m on a first name basis with the MRI techs at every hospital in my vicinity.
3. I love to gauge strangers’ reactions when I tell them, “I’m blonde; I don’t have a brain.”
2. I get my kicks when my titanium screws set off airport security alarms.
1. I’m waiting to get pulled over for speeding so I can say, “But officer, I’m blonde AND brain impaired!”
9. My brain was occupied by a roommate, which explains why I wasn't accepted into an Ivy League school.
8. It's a great conversation starter: “I survived a brain tumor.”
7. It makes for really cool show and tell. I have an upside-down scar that resembles a question mark along my right ear.
6. I have a legitimate excuse for misplacing my keys, putting milk in the pantry and forgetting where I parked my car.
5. I’ll be on drugs for the rest of my life and am privileged to carry a dog-eared Walgreens frequent RX punch card.
4. I’m on a first name basis with the MRI techs at every hospital in my vicinity.
3. I love to gauge strangers’ reactions when I tell them, “I’m blonde; I don’t have a brain.”
2. I get my kicks when my titanium screws set off airport security alarms.
1. I’m waiting to get pulled over for speeding so I can say, “But officer, I’m blonde AND brain impaired!”
LOL! I have been called "Monster Mash" - I have a horse shoe scar on the front left of my head.
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