they better have a meeting before they come in and try to talk to us in their fancy leather jackets with thier watches.

ever get the feeling treating your sister’s brain is the equivalent of a pissing contest to a plethora of interns, partners, chiefs of medicine and surgeons?
that the cutters and pasters and the radiology dudes are all jockeying for position to be the one that gets in there first?

the problem is that we want an answer now, and 37 million doctors of various levels have each looked at one piece of the puzzle.

so they come in the room hoping to — i don’t know, impress us or comfort us or vomit random words, I’m not sure — and if they’re not saying “we really have no information about that,” then they’re picking an arbitrary time table (four to six weeks, ten to 14 days, six to eight months) and then they pick a weapon (a knife, some glue or some radiation) and then they pick the result (she’ll be ready to run a marathon in six weeks, there is a 30 to 50 percent chance she’ll be paralyzed or in a coma, etc.) and then they give us some shit about how “dynamic” the human brain is and that even after a combination of cut, copying and pasting treatments, they never know what they are going to find until they get in there, it could take several attempts, etc.

the latest guy, Dr.GloomAndDoom, wanted to talk about how close her injury was to her brain stem. the guy earlier called it a “straightforward” procedure and acted like she’d be in and out, maybe with no treatment at all.

fucking doctors.

i’d like to hope that what these people lack in social skills, they make up for in their ability to wield a surgical knife. don’t tell families scary shit when you haven’t looked at the jpegs, my brother.

the good news is that Amanda is doing awesome.
for two hours tonight we were ordered to keep her awake, so she sat up in a chair, ate some dinner (and kept it down) and even made the trip to the sink to brush her teeth. we did her hair. it looks awesome.

she told me not to blog about any of this, but i’ve trained a parrot to repeat “i’m sorry” and i plan to leave it in the hospital room with her while i’m gone. plus, people want to know, right? i’m not sugar coating anything for you, family member/friend/random passerby. your support has kept us going through this crap.

even though you’d rather have left a voice mail, i’m glad you let me talk to you. that goes for you. and you! (and you) but not you.

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  • brain bleeder

    you forgot to mention how amazing i look and how quickly hair grows on your legs when you are confined to a hospital bed. i hate this place. ps–the word verication thing to post a comment….not easy with a BLEEDING BRAIN

  • L-Jo

    they are letting you blog now?
    wow. you MUST be bored. but i guess that’s what Doctor FancyJacket wants, huh?

    (I’ll try to keep from making hilarious jokes, but you know how hard that is.)

    love ya crazy girl!

    one Bruce Willis Saves Africa movie coming right up ….

  • Sweet T

    I was relieved to hear your voice, and found more relief when you didn’t rebuke me… one good thing about being preoccupied with more important events. I hope the elevator interruption and the fact that I didn’t call back was ok. I assumed that if you wanted to continue you would call. By the way, sister Amanda, you my dear, are hilarious. I am glad that you have such great family to support you. We will continue to pray for you.