Radiation is done. The bell has been rung. Temozolomide, complete...for now. One road has reached its conclusion, but what lies ahead is murky. Follow-up scans, follow-up appointments, and taking next steps. The bump is all but vanquished. That is the mantra we murmur in whispers when we wake up in the morning and before we retire for the night. The neurologist is still in charge. All the compartments are reinforced with lead and steel. The larger compartment has her clinic s

A poem about who we are, and what we own of our pain and ourselves.

All neurologists, I imagine, have a favorite lobe. Mine is the frontal lobe. Let me explain why. Athena sprang fully formed from Zeus’s forehead. Obviously this means she erupted from his frontal lobe, that’s what makes her the goddess of wisdom. Obviously. Anyways. While things are not neatly encoded in discrete brain regions in general, it’s still fair to say the frontal lobe houses much of what makes us human. All neurologists, I imagine, have heard the story of Phineas Ga

What are gliomas? What is a GBM? I try to break down the basics of a disease process that seems anything but.

My husband and I listened to the Hamilton soundtrack ad nauseam during the peak of the pandemic. I cannot listen to it these days, not because I do not love the songs (I do). While we were indulging Hamilton, I had two out of three miscarriages. The songs, with their catchy rhythms and flawless harmonies, were inextricably linked with loss. But “The Room Where It Happens” persists as a favorite despite that association. This felt true especially looking back at the eve of my