Who’dathunk?
2024: The year I become a published author! Words I never thought I’d say, but boy am I excited to be saying them. Filled with trepidation about the unknown? Sure.
Way back when Disney’s Space Mountain was a novelty, a friend dragged me onto the line. After some whining and self-deprecating jokes, and watching younger kids enthusiastically coming off the ride, I summoned some semblance of courage. I was doing this! Then we got to the head of the line and all the bravery deflated. The mass of impatient daredevils behind me had no tolerance for my indecision. Herded and buckled into a car, that haunting, creaky, grindy sound of your soul being pulled towards God-knows-what began. I’d been on scary rides before, but this was different. Think of the scariest roller coaster you’ve ever been on. Now put it in the absolute darkness, save for some flashes of light which are too quick to orient you to time and space, while whipping around turns and plunging from unknown heights. Granted, there are far riskier and stupider so-called-rides these days, but this was an extreme when it opened forty-eight years ago 🥴. It was unfamiliar, out-of-control, and so, so, cool. I made my friend ride Space Mountain at least half a dozen more times that trip, and each round I grabbed the most thrilling seat—the front bucket!
And that, my friends, is how I feel about the countdown for Not Yours to Keep’s October pub day.
This year is going to be a jam-packed, roller coaster filled with unknowns, risks, and plunges into uncomfortable but too-bad-you-have-to-face-them challenges. And it’s going to be the coolest ride I’ve ever taken.
I couldn’t be happier to have you strapped in and riding beside me.
Let’s predict the future…
What are you expecting to happen in 2024 that’s making your anticipation soar so high you might think about cutting back on your Starbuck’s order?
And Now For Something Completely Serious…
Okay, let’s bring you up to speed.
The latter two are the focus of today’s monologue:
So, you’ve got the news—there’s a ticking time bomb in your noggin. With great effort you focus on the words forming on the neurologist’s lips, but you’re a bit dazed (Captain Understatement). What registers is how matter of fact the doctor is. Your catastrophe is their everyday run-of-the-mill old hat. No biggie.
Eventually some of the information lands:
· Location: “Good news,” the doctor says. “Your aneurysm is in the front part of your brain.” It’s fair if your jaw opens wide and little choking sounds eke out. How is this GOOD? “There’d be a higher risk of rupture, and more difficult to treat if it was growing in the back.” Lucky ducky.
For the technical gobbledegook: see NIH
· Shape: A typical aneurysm has a smooth round surface, and its balloon-like neck attaches it to one side of the parent artery wall. Remember the cul-de-sac analogy? Voila~
Clinically, these are referred to as saccular aneurysms, but are often called berries, because comparing this terrible thing to mouth-watering treats is exactly what we need.
Here’s a fun new word—fusiform.
The Brain Aneurysm Foundation defines the less common fusiform aneurysm “in which the artery is widened on both sides. Fusiform aneurysms do not have a defined neck.” Relatable food: sausage (really? Do better.)
Fusiform types are harder to treat.
Fear not! The doctor bats an eye at the scans. “Yours is smooth.” Well, pat myself on the back.
· Size: “By current standards,” the neuro explains, “an aneurysm measuring below a 5mm is nothing to worry about. At 5mm, there’d be a conversation about surgery. At 7mm or more, you’d be rushed into emergency surgery.” But my 3mm—not a concern. The treatment plan—forget about it and come back in a year.
Aw, c’mon. Substack—claims I’m near the email length limit for this issue. Sorry gang, wasn’t me…
Raise your ✋ if I got the song stuck in your head #sorrynotsorry
Don’t fret. Unlike my doctors, I wouldn’t subject my favorite readers to a year’s worth of waiting. Stick around….
“Nostalgic Analogy Alert” Ha! (So good)
My space mountain story was exactly like yours right up until you said you then made your friend go on it ten more times. My sister and I went on it when we were 12 and 14 and it was our first and only roller coaster. We both screamed for the first half of the ride and then gave up completely as we were sure we were going to die, so what was the point fighting it. We disembarked and our parents had to take us back to our hotel for the rest of the day.