The Lemon

 

The Lemon

[Before we start:  Mark’s mom does not know anything about this.  My family agreed this was best for her.  Besides, I’ve burdened her enough in her lifetime!]

Tell the truth:  You looked at our Christmas picture and thought to yourself: “Boy, Mark’s hair is really receding!”  Well, it turns out, I got some help with that.

I was having dizziness back in the Spring – went to a couple of doctors and they dismissed it … mostly because I have a pinched nerve in my neck, and my symptoms weren’t that bad.  I even had a doctor do a neck-injection to try and relieve symptoms…no luck.  (In retrospect, I’ll bet the tumor loved that extra steroid kick!)

The short story is:  We go back to Florida, I see doctor #4 – a neurologist who also says I’m fine.  But as I’m walking out the door (seriously: halfway in the hallway), he offers to do a CT of my head “if it would make me feel better”.  Two days later they find a mass the size of a lemon in my head.  (That was a fun phone call to receive.)  We were on the next plane to Baltimore.

After an MRI, some phone calls, faxes, more phone calls, etc., we get an appointment with one of the top neurosurgeons at Johns Hopkins.  If you ever have a brain tumor, this is the guy you want to go see.  After a few days of us waiting for the consult here’s what he told us:

Sticker-buddies

1. It's NOT cancer (according to him looking at the MRI)
2. It's NOT inside the brain -- it's between the brain & the skull
3. It's operable and should be removable without complication.  (easy for him to say!)
4. It's rather large -- size of a lemon.  So it needs to be removed soon.  Once removed, my brain will 'sponge back' to fill the void. (I feel like he could have left that part out).
5. It's probably been growing in there for 5-10 years.
6. It's unlikely it will return
7. My golf score will go down 2-3 shots per round after the surgery.

Surgery was eight days later – on September 30th.  And 6 of those 7 things turned out to be true. 😀

 Two days after surgery I was discharged.  The next day I was walking to the playground with my grandkids.  Amazing.  I’m writing this 11 weeks post-surgery and am doing well.  There are still some little things I deal with, but everybody has little things to deal with!

Here’s some things I’ve learned, in no particular order:

1. Prayers matter.  The day before surgery, Father Worgul performed the sacrament of Anointing of the Sick.  That was a peace-filled, awesome prayer.  On surgery day, we had an army of family and friends praying – and I felt them with me when I walked in that hospital.  It’s like you could close your eyes and know they were there in the room.  I was filled with God's peace.
2. I don’t think “bald” is a good look for me.  I have pictures to prove it.
   
3. I need to stop grumbling about the little things.  There is so much to be grateful for in my life – it’s a bit sad that it took a brain tumor to get that through my thick skull.  So to speak…
4. There’s nothing wrong with ice cream for breakfast every once in a while.
5. My wife is a ROCK.  Spiritual, physical, emotional.  A ROCK.  She dropped me off at the Hopkins entrance at 5:30am – was not allowed to come in because of COVID.  She had to be wondering if she’d see me again – or if she did, if I would still be “me.”
6. Our kids are just as impressive.  Faith-filled and supportive.  That was humbling and uplifting to experience.

7. 

   36 hours post lemon-ectomy.
   

   Colored Christmas lights are better than clear ones.  My grandsons say they are BEAUTIFUL.
8. I’m more aware of others who deal with things every day – just to be able to live normal lives.  Most of them handle things with a grace that I hadn’t recognized before.  I have a newfound respect for these people.
9. I have a built-in excuse for everything I did wrong over the last 5-10 years. It’s a bit refreshing.
10. God sends people to help us.  In my case there is no question that Dr. Dario Kunar (an ENT at GBMC hospital) saved my life.  He was doctor #3, and after ruling out any ear-involvement, he was the only one who said the dizziness was “something.”  And that I should pursue it aggressively.  That got me to the neurologist, then the CT, etc.  After the confirming MRI, he was the one who called Johns Hopkins and paved the way to get me in.  Dr. Kunar even called me after my first consult to see how I was doing – offering for me to call him anytime if I wanted to talk, or if I just wanted grab a beer.  (His exact words.)  I was first-time patient of his – I only met him that one time and it turned out to be life-changing.  It’s nice that doctors (people) like this are around for us.  This is not by chance.
    

I apologize to many of you for the non-personal nature of using a blog post.  It was a whirlwind at the beginning, and before surgery we were torn as to who to tell what/when.  Post-surgery it was all I could do to talk on the phone for the first several weeks…then it just kind of morphed into “let’s wait until the Christmas letter”…and here we are. Hopefully you take no offense that we didn’t reach out to you earlier.  Prayers are still welcome.  If you want to pray for one of my specific ailments, drop me a note and I’ll assign one to you – there’s plenty to go around!  [Seriously though, I’ doing pretty well…]

If you’re still reading at this point, you really should think about getting a hobby.  Or a Netflix account.  As a reward for your persistence, you are officially released from any obligation to read next year’s letter.  Unless I have another grandchild by then, of course.  (There’s still time to work “Mark” in as a first name….)

Mark  (mark.delgiorno@gmail.com)
The Dad
RoboPop

(I wonder how many HIPAA rules this letter violated?  :)

If you want to send well-wishes to Sherry for putting up with all this, you can reach her at:  sherry.delgiorno@gmail.com !