Humor in the New Normal

Dad is recovering from his third brain surgery in 18 months. it’s crazy to think how different things are now than a year and a half ago. Brain surgery then seemed like a big deal. Now it’s beginning to feel... rote.

I remember where I was when I heard; walking east on Taraval St. towards our house, the day after Thanksgiving 2017- a carefree family hike to the ocean and back. That was the day I learned he had cancer.

Fast forward to the present and he has already beat the average life expectancy for glioblastoma (average is 13 months after diagnosis). I think we were all starting to believe and behave as if he might be the exception to the rule. But then he started losing words and comprehension, and they found (and removed) another tumor in January and now again in May.

It’s hard to see this formidable man— this social, extroverted guy with the expansive vocabulary and the drive to succeed— struggle with communication. It even feels like a betrayal to write these words.

Friday’s surgery was as much of a success as it could be. He seems clearer, can speak in longer sentences, more “himself.” And his humor is back, a little. When my mom gave him his [small] cup of hospital ice cream, he started making jokes about it being perfect for a very tiny character and Hobbit references ensued.

As his family, we have also had to find humor in his condition. Which again, feels like a betrayal at first... until you realize that in the new normal, one still needs levity to balance the pain.

When he first woke from surgery, we asked him if he needed anything. He said, groggily but in all seriousness, “I know it’s not possible, but I’d love a nice bourbon or a glass of Pinot.” (Um, Dad- we we’re thinking more along the lines of a cup of water or a blanket....)

And then it was the fixation with his sinuses. Every time his neurosurgeon or nurse asked him how he was feeling, and he’d motion to his eyes and nose saying, “I’ve got some congestion here.” And we’d giggle, as he basically referenced the pain equivalent of a paper cut instead of his BRAIN SURGERY.

I guess that’s why they say laughter is the best medicine.

Two days post-op, with his grandson. 

Two days post-op, with his grandson.