Two years ago, my dad called me up and informed me that he had a brain tumor. The only reason they found it was because of the ringing in his ear that the doc's couldnt stop. A CT scan revealed a massive tumor in the lining of his brain the size of a grapefruit half. So dad went under the knife and had the tumor removed, or so we hoped. The tumor had grown through the skull and could not be salvaged, the skull part had to be thrown out. Unfortunately, the area was so large that the doc could not construct a prosthetic right then. So for 12 weeks, dad had to wear a helmet to protect his head. (**side note: It infuriates me that some people do not think before they act. For example, one idiot went over to my dad and rapped on the top of the helmet. He is lucky that I was not there. Obviously, dude, the helmet was there for a reason, not a fashion statement.) So, when the prosthetic arrived, dad braved the knife again. The fluid from the brain, so used to being free, rebelled at the new enclosure. Dad suffered from seizures. The family freaked. We thought we lost him. My dad is young, considering he has a kid in her 30s. I never thought I would have to worry about him until I was middle-aged myself. He learned to walk quickly. Not two months later he walked unassisted--excellent I thought, but he was frustrated. His facial muscles have taken longer to cooperate. I have trouble understanding him at times.
But last week, dad had his routine MRI to make sure that all the tumor was gone and not regrowing. IT IS ALL GONE!
Hallelujah! Congratulations dad! I love you.