At 57 years old, I thought I
was the poster child for fifty-year old healthiness: I competed in triathlons,
rode in 100 mile biking events and ate a healthy diet chock full of organic vegetables.
Then I discovered that I had a brain tumor the size of my wife’s fist.
My memoir chronicles the
first year I spent addressing tumor-related health issues: preparing for my
first operation, discovering a dangerous skull infection, having the infected
portion of my skull surgically removed, learning about my substantial vision
and cognitive losses, undergoing rehab and radiation treatments, and learning
to live with my “new normal.” And, as best I can tell, the phrase “new normal”
is the medical community’s code words for “You’re alive, so quit bitchin’.”
As my health changed, so did
my sense of humor. My humor started out
superficially light-hearted prior to the first operation; transmogrified into
gallows humor after several subsequent operations; and leveled out as somewhat
wry-ish after radiation and rehab.
How not
to tell everybody you have a brain tumor
Why
it’s a lot of work to die in this country
Why I
had difficulties in naming my tumor
How I
negotiated bathroom visits with “Nurse Don’t-Bother-Me”
Why I
could prove that I was the “dumbest guy in the room”
Why
someone compared the back of my head to a diseased goat
How I
flunked a job interview with myself
Ok, so why would anybody read this book?
This is a book for anybody interested
in memoirs about people dealing with personal crises, for patients trudging
through rehab, for caretakers helping victims of serious illnesses, or for anybody
looking for an unexpected chuckle from an unlikely subject.
Want
to know more? You can read an excerpt at www.chief-complaint.com
Or you can read reviews and reader comments
at:
If you’re a facebook junkie, feel free to give me a “like”
here: http://www.facebook.com/ChiefComplaintBrainTumor
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