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Monday, February 4, 2019

DAY 059 --"Humor My Tumor"


It should’ve come as no surprise to me that the location of my cancer metastasis is in my cerebellum, and on the right side, no less. Yes, it’s visible in this scan, but let's wait for the results of this game of disconnect-the-dots before we point out where.

(If you're a brain surgeon, no fair calling out!)

The word itself, from the Latin, literally translates as “little brain.” Perfect. I’ll be needing my big brain later for other things, should the future challenge my past to a fight.

The cerebellum was discovered and named by Leonardo da Vinci. Some evidence suggests that he may have “borrowed” the name from Aristotle, but I can forgive what might be a millennium-old plagiarism long enough to revel in such celebrated company.

The problem is, there is no good rhyme for cerebellum. Don’t bother looking it up; I searched everywhere, and the deeper I delved the further away I got. The auto-rhymers provided nothing that matched sound and inflection exactly. The closest I came to it was “merit heaven.” (I suppose that could come in handy later, but it’s still clunky).


It was only my writer’s license that spurred me on, but it went downhill from there. When I got to “bare bottom” and “a gentle hum,” and my favorite but egads “mare serum,” I gave up. I left my quest, however, feeling rather special that a cerebellum has no exact textual doppelganger.

Makes me want to start a living cerebellum poets' society, or at least a support group for those of us with disaffected cb’s.

The last thing, as we’re now compelled to look at this whole thing from my pulp non-fiction angle, is giving my head-in parking rascal a moniker.

My lymph node lung tumor, as we know from our reading, has been “Rad Chemo.” But, now this renegade hiding in my hindbrain’s discordant cranium’s accordion creases? (If we can’t have good rhyme, we can at least abuse some alliteration).

I will put this to my friends and relatives on social media: Yes. That’s it. I’ll have a “Humor My Tumor” contest. My contacts are clever and fun and dark and devious --- just what this name-calling will need. Winner gets … well … we’ll think of something, and let's leave my merit heaven out of it.

More as we go, El





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