Atomictumor

Talking to Mom last night, evidently she didn’t get the memo where BJ’s eyes are pointing in different directions. I’d look it up, to see exactly how messed up this makes the girl, but I can’t find what its called! I found discongugated, but can’t get a lot of goodies through that. Seems like it starts with a D.

All of the medical terms are starting to lose themselves on me.

At work today, and it isn’t bad, probably because its mighty slow. I caught up on my email, thanked a few people, and am now hiding in my cubical. I’m a turtley person at work at my best, and this situation is completely making me keep my head down.

So, thanks, work people, and if I’m seeming quiet, or rude, or something, just ignore it. Well, I am quiet in real life by nature (imagine?), but I just really don’t want to chit chat.

Superego: You rude bastard.

Hush.

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Yeah, tho, Mom’s reaction is about like the nurses. She said it was bad news, but I can’t get an idea of bad news.

PVS? Thats pretty bad news. I’m already prepared for that, I guess what I’m wanting to know are what the Vegas odds are.

Ahh, but nobody has a crystal ball, eh?

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I wish there was some sort of super secret wonder twins way we could communicate. I guess thats the meat of it. I just want to commune with her in some way. Just hear her voice, tell her about my day, talk about whats on TV tonight.

I wonder where she is?

Anyway, I’m figuring a chat with Dr. Lynch, the neurologist, sounds like a plan. Mom said she wants to be in on it too, which sounds hunky dory. She’ll remember the smart questions.

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Sweet girl, I love you. I’ll see you in a few hours.