Reflections Before Brain Surgery

*In a couple of days, I will have surgery to remove a pituitary cyst. I have simplified so many aspects of my life the last few months. What remains is my ongoing love for writing and reflections. I wanted to share some below.

Everything feels dialed up right now, all my senses are hungry for input.

My neighbor leaves blushing roses and camellia blossoms at my doorstep. I practically make out with the blooms as I inhale their bright, lemony fragrance. A rose with a scent is becoming a rare occurrence. Roses who lack fragrance seem gorgeous without substance.

When I start imagining the worst outcomes for my surgery, my best friend reminds me to get lost in beauty.

So I do. I notice. I imprint moments. My son’s eyelashes are longer than I remember. His eyes are almost hazel in the sun. As I feed the neighborhood cat, I realize he is not actually black but the darkest reds, browns, and blacks blended to make the color of warm midnight. Everyone has a different name for him, but he knows who feeds him. He is aging quickly, and I cherish his purrs.

I am even noting moments on my face- a crooked smile, the fullness of my lower lips, the one eyebrow that looks fuller than the other. There are days when I genuinely smile at my reflection not because of any aesthetic achievement but because sometimes the light within shines through.

Rumi wrote, “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”
• Does that mean the light exits and radiates outward from the face?
• Does the Light enter even when you are still hurting?
• How do we turn the wound into Light?

Along with the Light, there is heightened Darkness.

My imagination is an accomplice for the worst outcomes – a slip of scalpel, an unfound complication, from benign to malignant. I am afraid to be a vegetable.

If there is one body part that I have consistently loved my whole life - it is my complex, analytical, off-the-rails brain. In reassurance to his own fears, my young son told me that I will never be a carrot. If I had to describe myself as any vegetable, I would be a purple Romanesco with whirls and whorls of fractal delight.

Even as I tell him that everything will be fine, I also tell him, “Know I love you just as you are, know I have absolute faith you will do incredible things, and everything that challenges you now, you can overcome in your own way and time.”

I have to say these things for my own selfish peace of mind. I know they might cause him some worry as they hint of a negative possibility, but I want to cover my bases.

My older son is more concerned because he understands what my young son does not. He wanted to fly out and be with me post surgery. I wanted him to wait until I recovered, so we could explore together. I want more people in my life to celebrate vitality together.

I have written so much more, but am running out of steam.

Closing thoughts ( I first wrote “final thoughts” but that felt morbid):
I no longer want to wait for a health crisis, a wake-up call to start choosing myself.

I get the message. I hear it loud and clear. I will share them with you:
• Nothing, no one is worth sacrificing your well-being and creative hunches.
• Stop waiting, my dear friends, for life to shake you up.
• Start living your way.
• Don’t fear the dark.
• Notice beauty. See your light.

*Wish me luck ! Will report back soon!