Brain Scan, Surgery Thoughts, and Thanks

Greetings from sunny Los Angeles, California! I just returned from my brain scan, which went without incident. A brain scan, for those who don't know, is really just an MRI of the brain, often done with a break between sessions for an injection of Gadolinium, a radioactive agent that highlights malignancies or other cell anomalies in the brain. These are things I have several times every year, and have had for about ten years...so I pretty much sleep through them, although they're quite loud and quite uncomfortable. However, pre-operative brain scans are a bit different -- they are accompanied by things called fiducials, which are small markers placed on the face and skull. These markers make for a curious appearance:

These little facial markers actually show up on the MRI, and make it possible for the neurosurgeon to establish the relationship between the inside and the outside of the skull. A bit intimidating, but oh well...
I realized, after posting yesterday, that my post was pretty clinical and descriptive, but didn't talk a lot about how I think about this whole thing. It's really quite strange...the things I'm most concerned about aren't the things you'd expect. I really don't worry much about the surgery itself, and the removal of most of the right frontal lobe. I'm pretty sure it's dormant, and I think the two prior surgeries have confirmed that. The things I'm concerned with seem almost petty:

I don't want a catheter. It's uncomfortable, and somewhat degrading and embarrasing.
I don't want an IV for three days. It's inconvenient, occasionally painful, and very restrictive.
I don't want leg compressors -- for those who haven't had surgery recently, these compressors are wonderful "attachments" reminiscent of medieval torture...they look like big knee-high socks, but they pneumatically compress every few minutes to force teh blood out of your legs and into your torso, preventing blood clots from developing. It sounds great in theory, but it's really pretty nasty in practice. Not painful, but it's very hard to get comfortable, and absolutely impossible to sleep.
I don't want to deal with the medications -- anti-seizure meds, pain killers, stool softeners, steroids, the works. For those who don't know me well, I don't do medications -- AT ALL. Not even Motrin or Advil. To the chagrin of my wife and doctor, I don't even take vitamins. Nothing. To go from that to getting pills pushed on me every hour on the hour is quite an adjustment.
So, as you can see, my concerns aren't over those things you'd expect. Of course, fear plays a part. The chance of neurological deficit -- likely speech or vision -- is always there, and weighs on the mind a bit...but the chances are small enough that they're easy (perhaps too easy) to dismiss. At this point, with less than 12 hours to go, I just want to get it over with. The anxiety and anticipation are at their worst right now...if they would do surgery NOW, I'd sign up!

Finally, Stronger, Momo, and a number of other outstanding Bloggers in Bloggers Against Cancer sent me the most wonderful care package, which arrived this evening, the night before my surgery. Treats, a monkey, and some great running gear...I can't tell you how much it means to me. I owe the entire community a huge debt of gratitude for their caring, their thoughts, their prayers, and their kind gifts. Thank you SO MUCH -- and you'll hear from me soon!