The latest MRI showed no signs of Sara. In fact, it showed no signs of a brain at all – just two fried eggs.

Concerned that I no longer seemed to have a brain, I asked my oncologist, “What up? Where’s my brain at?”

So, we assessed.

Radiation can sometimes turn gray matter into a diner Sunday brunch special.

Chemo can certainly turn things as foggy as a Seattle misty morning.

And the drugs! They create total mayhem on your system as it tries to accommodate force-fed McDonald’s Super-Sized meals when you’ve been a vegan your whole life. 

Well obviously, I couldn’t stop the radiation or chemo. But feeling a bit cocky that I was handling everything relatively well – except for the chicken-laid-brain – I thought it would be brilliant if we weaned me off all me drugs.

Afterall, I was never nauseous, even though I took nausea medication.

And I was still dizzy, even though I took steroids for dizziness.

And I had to take FIVE medications for constipation caused by the steroids and anti-nausea drugs, and I was still constipated!


So we did. We pulled me off all of my drugs. Totally at my bidding.

OK, note to self. The Western cowboys have pretty much figured this gig out. They prescribe these drugs for a reason.

About three days into my new drug-free existence, I didn’t want to leave my bed; I became dizzier (God, I can’t wait for that to end); my appetite disappeared (you know I not-so-secretly loved that); and I wanted to throw up pretty much all the time.

I jumped back in the frying pan. Went back on everything. And now I just trust the drugs, even though they make me feel a lotta-little fried.

P.S. The MRI did not show that Sara had left. In fact, there hasn’t been a recent MRI. That was a joke. I won’t know that for at least another month where we stand with her.

P.P.S. Those are x-rays of my head taken during radiation. And can we just talk? How crazy are they? You can see my eyeballs in some of them and I look like I’m wearing glasses. And what happened to my nose in the bottom left images? Just, EW.

P.P.P.S. The egg photo is not my brain. I mean, heart-shaped fried-eggs? I’m so sure!

Share This