Where’s that damn thing now?

A bright light silently flashed inside my skull. I didn’t need to open my eyes to realize that I was in bed, it was dark, and I had just been awakened by this . . . whatever it was. My mind, though somewhat groggy, hastily compiled the backstory that consumes my hours these days. I tried to recall the countless articles I’ve read on sarcomas . . . do they metastasize to the brain? To the optic nerve? What would cause a flash of light in my head? And, of course, the million dollar question: was it related to my tumor? I again heard the dreaded words my NY doctor had uttered less than 24 hours earlier: “I suspect that it is.” Ugh.

And while we’re on the subject, why are those medical articles so dry, so boring, so . . . sickeningly clinical? I appreciate the impassioned voice, but these are passionate times – so let’s try to inject a little zip into our work, shall we doctors?

And there it was again. Time to open my eyes . . . can I still see? Yes, but it’s very dark. Still, a good sign. Now where was I? Oh yeah, what causes a . . . and there it was a third time. But this time, with my eyes open, I could tell that the flash had not originated inside my head, but rather had come from the wall of my bedroom. I got up and walked over to the window. And then somewhere out over the Pacific Ocean, some twenty miles to the southwest, a brilliant bolt of lightning silently but swiftly tumbled from the sky. We were having a rare electrical storm.

I love electrical storms. I just wish this one had knocked first.