It's not rocket science, BUT....

It started out as a simple act of age rebellion.  Ok, I know Five-O is coming up, and I know that means I will probably have to increase my reading glasses prescription. But entire words were disappearing off the computer screen. Perhaps that Lasik surgery was wearing off? I'll just pop into the eye surgeon and get it checked out.

On Thursday, 9 June, I sat in the ophthalmologist's office for an hour taking tests.  The good news:  eyes are healthy. Not-so-good news: definite vision issues. "Let's take some blood tests and an MRI, to see if we can find anything."

We were coming up to a long weekend. We didn't have specific plans, but being in hospital was not amongst the choices. Immediately, Governator Arnold Schwarzenegger's immortal words in Kindergarten Cop leapt into my mind.

They scheduled my MRI for Sunday on a long weekend. I guess if they need a to pay a technician to be there, they may as well schedule appointments! By noon on Tuesday I got the call from the ophthalmologist: the scan did indeed show a "process" in my pituitary gland region between my sinus and brain, most likely benign, but pressing on my optic nerve. It's a tumor.

By 2pm on Wednesday, I was in the office of Dr John Sheehy, a neurosurgeon. Mid fifties, a bit "fatherly," with a gentle demeanor, but definitely no McDreamy! His waiting room consisted of the standard loud receptionist, 47 copies of Architectural Digest, Golf Magazine, Cars and one curious copy of the RM Williams Outback Magazine.

"This won't do at all," he says.
"What?!" I stiffen, "Ohhhh, you mean this whole brain tumour business?"
He nods.
"What are you gonna do about it?" I enquire.
"I thought we might take it out."
"Sounds like a good idea to me."

At 23 mm (one inch) in diameter, consistent in colour and material, he suggests it may be either a "Rathke's Pouch Cyst" in need of draining, or the previously suspected pituitary macroadenoma.  Both benign. Both operations done through the nose. "How does next Thursday work?"

Hmm..lemme just check my schedule....yeah I can sandwich that brain surgery in between the steering committee meeting and my status report.


And then it hits me. 

WHAT THE F#$% ??


Deep breath. Wait a minute. I am SOOOOO gonna milk this!!! Almost everything else pales by comparison to this.


"Oh, sorry to hear your project isn't going well, but I HAVE A BRAIN TUMOUR."
Your kids have the flu? I HAVE BRAIN TUMOUR
No, I'm sorry, I can't give to your charity today. I HAVE A BRAIN TUMOUR.
You think you have a headache? I HAVE A BRAIN TUMOUR.
Honey, can you get me a glass of water, IHABT.....

So here's the thing. In 7 days, I will have brain surgery.  Oh yes, it is.  It's BRAIN SURGERY! The prognosis is good. 5-7 days in hospital, 2-3 weeks out of work. Full recovery, low chance of recurrence.

Please send your thoughts, good wishes and prayers, but no need for anyone to jump on a plane. If you're in Sydney, happy to see you when I get out of hospital.

Instead you can follow my thoughts over the next 7 days and beyond.  I plan to tackle this with my usual dry sense of humour. I hope this self-preservation tactic does not offend anyone. I am not trying to belittle the seriousness of the situation, but trying to keep my sanity as I face the first test in my race against mortality.

Probably should warn the operating theatre staff that bad jokes are my specialty.