Hitting The Reset Button

Old Man With The ‘C’

I do have my down moments.

I do not get depressed, just lackadaisical.

It is my way of hitting the reset button.

The CTRL/ALT/DEL realignment of my overthinking mind and eccentricities.

I am apprehensive regarding the upcoming “procedure” on my brain. Or perhaps it would be more correct to say “in” my brain.

A year and a half ago I had a large brain aneurysm and I have been plagued with chronic “mini strokes” since.

At the time, using Laparoscopic surgery where they went in through my groin and snaked their way to the damaged area.

Implanting a stent in my aortic artery, deep within my brain.

The fantastic marvels of modern medicine!

Here we are a year and a half later and I was just starting to feel better from the brain bleed. With the exception that I am weak and losing my balance. Not to mention the plethora of pre-existing medical complications I experience daily.

Two weeks ago I went for my 90 day brain CT scans and MRI.

“I already knew months before the scans that something wasn’t right in Dodge. So I was not overly shocked to receive the test results.”

“However, I am somewhat concerned considering that I have aged these past two years and I am not as resilient as I was a while back.

The stent is now blocked.

On January 29th, I go into the world renowned Toronto Western Hospital to see if they can unblock it.

Using Laparoscopic surgery they will go in through my groin and snake the Laparoscope all the way through my body to the previously implanted stent.

Which is deep within my cerebellum.

Once there they will first place a miniature basket beyond the stent. The basket is to hopefully catch any blood clots and debris from the next step.

They will then, using a special device, insert a balloon inside the stent.

Once in place they will inflate it and hopefully break up the plaque that has clogged the stent.

It is risky due to it being so deep in my cerebellum. That and my body has been through so much since the cancer diagnosis. 13 times stepped out, resuscitated and weeks in the ICU. The cancers. The spleen, gallbladder, kidney and all my other missing parts.

One in four chance that I could stroke out or step out.

BUT I WILL NOT BE DOING THAT!

It’s not my time yet.

I will live to be 112 for only the good die young and I am too young to die old and too old to die young.

Having been on my own since I was 12 years old I am different than many others my age.

I guess you could say that I am “weathered”.

Like a Viking.

THE ORIGINAL URBAN VIKING!

(My ‘Valhalla’ is under construction.)