Home Sweet Home*

As time went on I felt worse and worse. This was a different kind of discomfort -- an almost indescribable combination of headache, upset stomach, general soreness and that ominous feeling of impending illness you get before you officially come down with the flu.

I felt like Nikki Sixx's liver.

After a couple days of screaming headaches that slowly subsided, I gradually felt better. Just in time to get the results from the spinal tap. There were signs of another tumor in my spinal fluid. Great.

The doctors huddled together. The game had changed.

Now, Dr. Thompson was adamant that a biopsy be performed so he'd know exactly what he was dealing with. That meant surgery. Dr. Greene wasn't thrilled about that -- all along he'd been clear about his preference for avoiding surgery if it was at all possible. But he reluctantly agreed. He'd need to perform a biopsy -- cutting open my skull and harvesting a sample of the tumor so the pathologist could study it -- in order to get a better understanding of the tumor.

Up to now, this had all been a rather academic exercise. I knew I had a tumor and my sight was getting worse and worse, but it didn't really feel "real" until this moment.

* Yes, I know that "Home, Sweet Home" is on the Theater of Pain album, but Shout at the Devil is so much better.