It's not quite brain surgery...

27 staples, and I don't even have to look at them!

Thought this is a much nicer photo to share. 

I have been home since Thursday afternoon and other than the lengthy list of medicines on my counter and the baby soap in the shower not much is too different. I am staying at the parents' for the extra help - as much as it is difficult to rescind some independence, it turns out having brain surgery is kind of a big deal and it is a good idea not to be alone trying to lift things or make fast moves. I sleep mostly well at night and am in very minimal pain. In fact, the worst of this will probably be the heartburn brought on my steroid helpings the size of small bowls of captain crunch. Mmmm, captain crunch. 

It seems quite surreal - for most of the past six and a half years or so I have been particularly troubled by the fact lung cancer likes to find a home for itself in the brain. I have not been overwhelmed by worry, but I have known it a likely option for metastasis and have lived with fear of waking one day

 to a debilitating headache, loss of use of my legs, or other terrible malfunction. I thought there would be some warning, some forboding to get through. For me it just didn't go that way. I went to the gym, had a fun workout, said goodbye for the weekend, and bounded up the stairs. In some regard there is a sweet victory there, to have come so far for "normal" and have it go just like that. No barefeet on the sand on a far away beach (though I've done my best to hedge my chances), just doing what we all do each day, things that make us tick, getting a cup of coffee, going to work in the sun, looking forward to a relaxing weekend of doing nothing.