Chapter 37
Journal Entry for Wednesday March 11, 1998
If Grandpa Patterson was still alive, he'd probably ask me what I'm doing up at oh-200. Of course, he'd probably understand, having had his knee surgery before and all. He kept grandma up all night talking. The day of his surgery, she got more sleep than he did.
The truth is, I am nervous about my impending brain surgery tomorrow. Of course, I haven't been getting much sleep since I thought I saw dad's ghost in my room. Not that I believe in ghosts or the spirit world or afterlife or all that. Okay, maybe I didn't use to believe in all those things, but I'm not sure what I believe anymore. I'm not even sure why I believe what I believe I believe. I mean, I don't know if I'm just grasping at ways to think dad doesn't haven't to stop existing just because he's dead, or if his death has just made me…how should I put it?, a little less non-stoic.
Back to the whole surgery thing, it does scare me, and I'm not afraid to admit it. I know I was scared for the cauterization on my nose, and that turned out fine, but this is a lot more invasive and a lot riskier. Even Dr. Ultameier has admitted that much. I mean, that team of neurosurgeons tomorrow are literally going to be responsible for my mental state.
It seems like the more and more I find out about this "bullet-ectomy" (hey, what would you call it?), the worse it gets. The team of doctors will literally be drilling into my skull and removing the bullet fragments from my actually brain. I didn't care to ask for the finer details on that part. The surgery, in all, is supposed to last seventeen hours, each of which, I'm sure is going to be pure torture on mom. Then, after the final bullet fragment has been removed (assuming they can all be removed), it's still another three hours until anyone will be able to find out the effects the surgery had on my brain and mental capabilities. I don't know if you've ever had surgery, but let me tell you, even one hour of unconsciousness is an unpleasant thought, let alone nineteen more.
I can tell that mom is real nervous about the surgery (I keep referring to it as "the surgery" because I can't either pronounce or spell the official name of it to save my life), but she's trying to be strong. I pretend that I don't notice for her sake.
Brad isn't quite sure what to think about the surgery. I wouldn't say that he's one hundred percent for me having this surgery. The only real reaction I've gotten out of him is happiness; because he gets to miss several days of school both while I have the surgery done and recover from it.
Mark seems a bit more concerned. (Not that I don't think Brad's concerned, he just isn't letting it show). He's been trying to spend more time with me as of late, just in case I don't…I'm not even going to finish that. I'm going to think positive about this. I'm going to come out of this surgery and be back to my normal self. Even more so than I already am.
I guess I'll go back to playing computer solitaire now until it's time to get up in another two hours. An interesting fact: Did you know that it is supposedly possible to win every game of solitaire before you make your first move? I read that in a magazine the other day.
-Randy
A/N: Before I do this author's note, let's all join in me in singing "Happy Birthday" to Randy's Thoughts, in honor of his first birthday today! (Technically, I started writing on April 20, but it wasn't first published until this day.
Now on with the author's note!
As I've already said on Crash, I know it's been a long time since I last updated. Hopefully all that is going to be changing, starting right now.
I hope everyone who's still reading this enjoyed this chapter. If you did, please R&R.
Thanks for reading.
-Yours truly, Randy Taylor
