ridin' the rollercoaster with laura

What a ride this has been. Ecstacy to Agony to Terror to Pride to Anger to Relief and on and on.

Sunday: Eleven kilofeet of altitude on snow shoes at Wolf Creek Pass, 67-year-old Bill and his
younger-woman wife, best friend, guru all rolled up in one, truckin, without a care. later back at
the Inn, sweet love cocoon, fallin asleep in her arms, the room's a chaotic mess, but what the
hell, we'll pack it up in the morning.

Monday; waking up, still entwined, peaceful, and
allofasudden
Laura clamps her palm to her head; "God, the worst headache I have ever had! it won't stop!"
I immediately go to: STROKE! ANURISM! What will become of her? of me? Pure Terror.

Call the front desk: where's the hospital? We don't have one, but there are EMT's. Zoom to the
EMT's. Into an ambulance to Mercy Hospital in Durango. Cee Tee. It's a brain bleed. Cause
unknown. Into a chopper to Farmington. Em Are Eye. Possible tumor. TUMOR!?! Fuck! Who
thougt it would be a tumor? Meanwhile on Laura's left half, function deteriorating. more terror.
Emergency surgery: they cut a hole in the side of Laura's skull and remove clotted blood to
relieve the pressure and get a biopsy. When they wake her up her left side has returned. Relief.

Laurie drops everything and drives up from Santa Fe [by way of Pagosa Springs, an extra hour,
to pick up our stuff which the staff at the Inn has kindly packed up] and rolls in after midnight.
Unending Gratitude. Sarah flies in next day. Now we have a formidable army to fight the thing.
Bring 'em on! [Now that sounds familiar. where did I hear that?]

Tuesday: At 6:00 am, after I have slept 4 hours, the phone rings. it's Laura: where are you?
Where's my cell phone? Where's my toothbrush? I want my ring!! I'm baaack!

So. Laura has a brain tumor, likely an ovarian metastisis after 11 cancer-free years.
as weird as it sounds, this is actually good news. if it had been a stroke, we could have lost her
then and there. or gotten back someone else. It looks like this is the only place it is. Quite
operable. Suck out the poison and that's that. Maybe.

Everyone's great at the San Juan Regional Medical Center. Laura's a bit wobbly on her feet; CRS
squared, demanding, combative; alternately totally awake-aware-mentally sharp and then
zoned out, absent, unreachable, then back. Don't worry, we are told, it's the surgery, it's the
steroids, it's Mercury in retrograde. Won't last. ya know, as hard as I tried to find comfort in
that I couldn't. Anger. Frustration. impatience. I want my sweetie back!

Thursday we drive home, wondering what the hell we are going to do about Laura's combination
of wobbly gait and inability to remember to warn us when she is about to get up and lurch
somewhere. If she falls and hits her head wrong it could be life-threatening. How am I going to
be sure she doesn't get out of bed to pee without waking me Up.? She can't be trusted to
remember.
Solution: I tie a thin rope around her wrist and around mine. Making concrete the bonds of
matrimony. It works.

Well, gee, this is getting pretty long and I haven't even gotten to the main event, Laura's surgery
at UCSF. I think I'll just send this out as is and finish the windy part later. For now I'll just say
what you probably already know: The Surgery was declared an A+ success by Dr. parsa; He got
it all out! The relief that flooded over me is indescribable, but I'll try later anyway.
True to form, Laura called Sarah at 6am the morning after the surgery: where are you, when are
you coming, where's my this and that? She was lively all day Tuesday til she got tired, then she
started picking at her incisions and drains, I got pissed and hadda get out of there. More soon.

Please know that all the messages, emails, phone calls, prayers etc. have meant a great deal to
all of us.

Love,

Bill