AWKWARD TURTLES & ACOUSTIC NEUROMAS

I've never gotten on board with the whole vampire trend that seems to have taken pop culture by storm. The movies, the TV shows, the t-shirts, the fascination with fangs and bloodlust and pale skin that sparkles in the sunlight. Yup. Never understood it. So I feel awkward admitting that I've been feeling slightly vampiric this past month. Not in the "I'm-just-dying-for-a-swig-of-Type A positive" kind of way, more along the lines of "I'm-up-at-all-awkward-hours-of-the-night." (Admittedly, a terribly cheesy comparison but points for attempting to make this blog less dry?) So, I've been falling into this annoying pattern of functioning perfectly normally during the day and then re-hashing the entire AN situation every night at lights out. I'm assuming that amidst all of my daily goings-on my brain simply doesn't have the time or energy to work itself into a tizzy. But it seems as though every time my head hits the pillow, my brain flips it

I haven't posted in awhile so I thought I'd hop on and just say hey to everyone since I had a free moment. I really enjoy writing new entries, but honestly I haven't had too much to say recently about Iggy. I suppose that's a good thing, right? It means that I haven't been spending excessive amounts of time obsessing. Or I'm still battling denial. Either way, I'm short on insights and musings for today. I am enjoying the "down time" though because I know once April hits, life is going to be a bit of a whirlwind. Not only because all of my pre-op preparation but also because I'll be running back and forth between work, Zumba, and rehearsals. In a little over two weeks, I have my pre-op meeting with Dr. Gonzalez-Martinez and Dr. Woodson to get a talk-through of my surgery and recovery and to answer all of my various and sundry questions ("Will I be able to ride roller coasters this summer?"). I'll also be scheduling things like my

More thanks to Mike from the ANA forum for telling me about this hilarious video on YouTube. Literally laughed out loud while I was watching. Hope it brings all of you AN patients and families a little ray of sunshine!

At this point, I've pretty much told everyone near and dear to me what's going on. There are still a few friends out there who I haven't had the opportunity (or desire) to tell so I'm gradually getting the news out. I've found that while I'm settling more and more each day about the whole situation, I still get a bit anxious about telling other people. Somehow sharing the news for the first time with someone makes it feel like I'm getting the news for the first time all over again. And then there's the uncertainty of not knowing how someone will react. I've found that the responses tend to fall somewhere between "oh-my-gosh-how-terrible-are-you-going-to-die" and the much cooler "well, at least it's not cancer." To be fair, I'm not sure how I would react if one of my friends came up to me and dropped such news, so I've done my best to accept all of these reactions in stride and not let them sway me one way or the othe

I have decided that since this tumor and I are going to be spending lots of quality time together over the next two months, it seems only fitting that it have a name. And I have decided on Iggy. Now, I can't really take credit for this idea or the name. This, um, somewhat crazy development is largely due to fellow AN patient and ANA forum member, Mike. During the course of a recent forum discussion, he happened to mention that during his experience he had named his tumor Irving. Curious as to not only the concept of naming a tumor but also the choice of the name itself, I asked him about it. His reply? The inspiration for the name came from a 1960's cartoon "Krazy Kat and Ignatz" and the decision to name it, well, "Humor accomplishes two things. It makes us smile or laugh, and it shrinks or makes it small in our 'mind's eye.'" He had considered naming it Iggy after Ignatz but decided it was too cute and settled on Irving instead. Leaving the

Today I received my free informational packet from the Acoustic Neuroma Association. I recently registered on their discussion forum and on their general website and part of the deal was getting the free packet. I'm not quite sure what kind of information I was expecting it to contain, but I was certainly surprised by the extensiveness of this organization. They have a newsletter, support groups all over the country, pamphlets, a network of AN "survivors" you can contact, I mean the works. I spent a good chunk of last evening perusing the material and came away with mixed feelings. (Isn't this always the case with me?) Part of me was happy for the information and the reassurance that there were countless other people who are (and have been) in my situation, the other part of me was like "Whoa buddy, it's just an acoustic neuroma. Do we really need all of this?" Granted, this may have something to do with my tendency to be something of a loner and a bot

I seem to be resorting to cliched expressions more and more frequently so here's another for your reading amusement: "If you don't laugh, you'll cry." I've found that since I've been diagnosed, I've been treating this entire situation with humor more than anything else. Yes, I've cried. And spent entirely too many nights lying wide awake and wondering just what on earth was happening to me. But for the most part, It seems my funny bone is taking charge. It doesn't help that humor is also how my dad and brothers are handling the situation. In fact, my younger brother, always searching for the quickest way to make a buck, decided that we should put up a jar at our local grocery store with a perfectly pathetic picture of me pasted to the front (oh, look at that alliteration) to collect money for me. (He has a very dark, twisted sense of humor.) Actually, the gravity of the situation didn't hit him until he was telling one of his friends. Acc