Gamma rays

or, when a knife is not a knife but also is sort of a knife

If you’ve read my latest book, Third Ear, you already know some (but definitely not all) of this story. If you haven’t read the book, here’s a spoiler alert: A couple of years ago, I was diagnosed with a benign brain tumor called an acoustic neuroma. Key word, benign! Also key word: acoustic. The tumor is affecting my right inner ear, and therefore it’s causing some hearing loss on my right side. Also, as I write about in the book, the tumor is not entirely benign. This is due to its location, which is rather close to my facial nerve and to my brain stem.

In addition to many other things, the book describes the discovery of the tumor and also the decision I made to “watch and wait.” However, after I completed and published the book, and after I had another brain MRI, the results suggested that it was now time to do something other than watching and waiting. Which brings us to now.

This past Monday, four days ago, I went through a procedure called Gamma Knife Radiosurgery. Even though the word “radiosurgery” was painted in bold letters on the wall of the basement area of the hospital at UCSF where I was being treated, it wasn’t until the day of my appointment that I saw the word “surgery” or heard it used. I think it’s a little like that pesky word “benign,” which both is and is not an accurate term for my tumor. The radiation being aimed with phenomenal precision at my tumor is kind of like a knife but isn’t a knife. There is no cutting involved, and nothing except gamma rays (high-energy photons, aka particles of electromagnetic radiation) are actually entering my body or my brain.

Okay, I have to explain that this is not entirely true. Because as part of the procedure, in order to stabilize my head (my skull), in order to ensure the precision of the knife-that-is-not-a-knife, a titanium frame is screwed into place with four pins. Yup. There were four pins screwed into my head. Two in the front and two in the back. (I have photos. I’ll show those to you another time.)

The wonderful nurse who took care of me admitted that this frame placement would be the most painful and difficult part of the (very long) day. First, because the lidocaine spray used to numb the skin on my forehead and the back of my head stings and burns A LOT, and second, because the pressure of four pins being screwed into your skull is a uniquely bizarre and surreal experience. (I mean, there appear to be screwdrivers involved, and they look exactly like the ones you’d buy at a hardware store, and even though I didn’t feel pain after the lidocaine did its job, I want you all to know that this is something I do not want to do again.)

Stay tuned for Part 2 of this story.

And please don’t worry, I feel fine now!