"if the Lord in his condescension... hath visited men in so much mercy, why should my heart weep and my soul linger in the valley of sorrow?"

 I shouldn't complain. Things are actually good. The post-op MRI looked good. The surgeon thinks he got the whole thing out. If it turns out to be an oligodendroglioma (which he thought it looked like, fingers crossed), then the plan will likely just be frequent MRI monitoring for recurrence, without need for chemo/radiation/biologics. 

However, life has changed. I knew that brain surgery was a big deal, but I guess I was hopeful that it wouldn't take long for Eric to feel like himself again. However, that hasn't been the reality. He is talking a little more, but still has a lot of aphasia (word finding difficulties, jumbled sentences, trouble focusing on conversations). He is moving well, except for a little left-sided neglect and some balance issues. He is getting home PT, OT, and will be getting speech starting next week. He sleeps about 16 hours per day, though, and when he is awake, he moves around a bit like a ghost. He is like the PS2 version of his usual PS5 self. The pixelated, glitchy version. He can't talk to me much, can't do much with the kids, can't really do much with me. It's a little like living with the ghost of Eric.

I think this is very likely temporary, but it's so hard, wondering, worrying. I miss him. I miss talking to him. I miss spending time with him. I miss knowing what he is thinking and feeling. I worry he won't come back. And it feels like I shouldn't be sad about this expected complication of major brain surgery on the part of the brain that is important for personality and attention, but I am. It's been really hard. 

Work has been a good distraction for me, but life feels weird. Family is here, which is extremely helpful but different, the kids are emotional, and Eric is foggy. I wish we could go back. I wish we didn't have to go through this. I don't have ideas of fairness, because as a doctor I've seen lots of horrible things happen to really good people. But I still wish it wasn't me. 

Still, I have so much to be grateful for. So many people have reached out to see how I'm doing. So many small acts of kindness. It all keeps me grounded to the inherent goodness of people and the world, and gives me hope. I know God is good, and is watching out for me. But still, for now at least, I linger in the valley of sorrow.

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