Mrs. Kelly's Monster - my reaction

This story really hit me hard for a few reasons.  The first is that I've never had quite that delicate of a surgery, but I've come darn close.  My first Thoracotomy (chest surgery) required two radiologists watching my tumor and chest live so that the surgeon wouldn't mistakenly nick any of the thousands of blood vessels that were running through the tumor as he tried to remove a chunk of the tumor for a biopsy.  My second Thoracotomy wasn't just into my chest cavity, it went straight into my lung, where my surgeon, unable to use the scope he had hoped to use, had to reach his hand in - between my skin, ribs, chest cavity, and lung walls - to cut out a tumor for a second biopsy.  Boy oh boy, the things we miss when we're under heavy anesthesia.  Pop, pop, pop...that's all I would hear if I were in her place trying not to think about what they were doing to my brain....that is, if I were awake.

The second thing that hit me was how I would live my life if I knew that I had two brain aneurysms that were ready to explode at any moment.  What would I do with my day?  I mean, when I was terminal, I knew I had a few months to live, to accomplish something, to spend time with my family.  If I only had moments...well...I don't know, but I would like to think I would accomplish something great, even if it were to just kiss my little nephew over and over, or play with my beloved dog Sampson, who is 5.5 pounds of pure joy, or watch You've Got Mail with my family, or talk to my sister about her boy drama, or sit on Facebook and play Happy Aquarium with my brother because it's the easiest way for us to connect right now.  All of those things qualify as great to me.  All of them.

Also, Mrs. Kelly called hers the monster.  I called mine Bannie.  Get it?  Bannie rhymes with Annie...

Hehe.