Peter O' Drool

But first, more tests. Since my tumor was so rare, the doctors wanted to find out as much as they could before beginning treatment of any kind.

This was good and bad. Good in that I didn't have to undergo surgery or chemo. Bad, because I was still on steroids, which made me surly and only able to sleep for an hour or two at a time.

It also meant more specialists. The next in line was a neurological opthamologist (try saying that one five times fast). Once again, I couldn't see him for two weeks. In the meantime, my left eyelid was beginning to droop, making it look as if I was either perpetually winking or about to fall asleep.

The sleeplessness was really getting to me, but I tried to make the most of it. Since the tumor was pressing on my optic nerve, there was a chance that I could lose some or all of my sight, either due to the tumor or treatment. Since I had some time, I decided that there was no time like the present to see as many classic movies as I could in the event I might be blind or have poor eyesight for the rest of my life.

I went on a tear. Citizen Kane (terrific), a slew of Hitchcock (Vertigo was overrated, North by Northwest was not, Frenzy is an overlooked masterpiece), Bullit (dated and weak), To Kill a Mockingbird, Sunset Boulevard and so on. Since I wasn't sleeping, not only did I suddenly have time for Lawrence of Arabia (amazing), I could also watch the commentaries. This crash course was one of the best things about that waiting period -- not only was I able to catch up on the classics, but I was able to learn about them as well. Netflix made it even better, enabling me to watch obscure movies or documentaries I'd always been curious about but didn't want to buy and couldn't rent at the usual physical outlets.

It was a welcome distraction from the discomfort and the drama that was about to come.