Hi, Everyone!

Here’s the latest — and perhaps final update here — on me and ol’ Walter Jarvis (the now slightly infamous bacon-wrapped date).

I met with my neurosurgeon yesterday afternoon. After reviewing the pathology report, he told me very matter-of-factly that I’m going to die.

Sorry… that I’m going to die of natural causes, not as a result of this whole mess with Walter Jarvis.

In short, the pathology report revealed nothing whatsoever to be concerned about, and for those of you who are wordsmiths or like to keep score, WJ was benign, not malignant. 

In the doctor’s own words, “You’re cured…” and should feel free to “…stop milking this thing with a CaringBridge page of its own.”

I next need to consult with a board-certified neurologist that the neurosurgeon had present in the operating room during last week's surgery. The neurosurgeon says the neurologist will provide direction on when I can stop taking brain seizure meds, and that he likely has highly informed advice on what I may want to consider health-wise going forward. 

As for how I feel about all of this, I’m relieved and ready to put it behind me, reminded only by how lucky I am — not because this wasn’t more serious than it could have been but by how fortunate I am to have so many amazing, loving, and supportive people in my life. 

Not to get too deep here, but a situation like this one brings a lot of thoughts and feelings to mind, including:

- Am I worthy of love?
- Have I lived the life I’m capable of?
- What role have I played in the lives of others?
- What do I deserve going forward?

These questions and others — including, what would be the worst BOGO sale of all time? and… why isn’t cold cereal classified as vichyssoise? — are well worth exploring. And once these headaches subside (which the neurosurgeon says are normal at this stage of the post-op recovery cycle), I’ll continue to do the lifelong inward inventory associated with answering them.

In the meantime, and with sincerity, thank you all for being with me through this. Simple acts of kindness are among the best medicine available in situations such as this one, as are real medicines, healthy doses of empathy, a steady supply of humor, and trust & faith in things I know nothing about but feel secure in others being 100 percent in charge of, like my brain surgery, which I survived and am ready to move on from!