So that’s it then. Brain recovery complete. Barring the scar – which I’ll bear forever as a reminder of my little brush with mortality – I am fully functional member of the community again.
I was lucky. In the hospital were a Polish guy who had been there for almost 7 months – constantly hovering on the edge of infection and with parts of the tumour so deep in his head that they could never be removed – and David B of Pontefract, undiagnosed and unable to work for 7 years.
Me? I found out on a Wednesday and breezed back out of hospital the following Thursday. The dice fell well for me, for once.
So I’m back in the chair, in my office, looking at the unholy mess that still remains to be cleaned up, left there by the SEO agency who were running things before I took over. At home, the kids (who have largely been oblivious to everything) continue to rampage around the place, leaving a trail of biscuit crumbs everywhere they go, just like their dad. And on Friday the 3rd, I returned to the live stage once more at the Duck and Drake, Leeds, where for 2 hours I played out my little rock star fantasy once more – with an extra big contingent of friends there for the ride to help celebrate.
There’s even a little upside: being unable to drive for several months mean that I am morally obliged to drink at all social events!
So a quiet thank you to the various people who’ve helped me through this little spell… the neurosurgeons at the LGI… colleagues old and new… the countless friends who’ve sent me little messages or packets of sweets… my family who’ve constantly checked up on me and run innumerate errands on my behalf and, of course, The Wife, who has experienced the whole thing probably worse than I have: from watching me jitterbugging around on the bedroom floor in the middle of the night to having my head cut open to doing everything in the house and with the kids while I stared vacantly on from the sofa.
And a little thank you to you too for reading and leaving messages, if you have. It’s been a rough old ride, but it’s been nice to know you’ve been there for the journey, kind of.
Next week: incontinent swearing and despair recommences as per.