Another step to 'normal'...

Confucius was correct: "A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."

I took another on Wednesday during my tête-à-tête with my new neurosurgeon.

The news was mostly good. (Actually, all good considering; the only real bad had to do with martinis!).

The news is that (a) I'm doing as well, actually better, than expected, that (b) the swelling on the right side of the head is a muscle -- didn't know the skull had a muscle -- and it'll eventually go back to normal, that (c) the big, crooked "Y"-shaped scar that still has jarring (to the viewer) red spots will eventually subside and shrink a bit (though I'll always have a weird-shaped sliver of baldness, but that doesn't bother me much because I can't see it), that (d) the likelihood of seizures is "low," though I must continue the anti-seizure medicine for two more months, that (e) the weaning of the one med I'm taking will take another two to three months, (but) that (f) , if a seizure does hit, it likely will NOT involve passing out, but likely will manifest itself as severe twitching of appendages on the left side ("But no one might notice," I replied, "because that's how I dance."), that (g) I still can't fly because they drilled four holes in my head so the docs could then saw a big square hole in my cranium for access to the brain matter, and those holes haven't yet "closed" completely, that (h) the big square hole is secured by four titanium screws (that won't set off the metal detectors at the airport when I can fly again), and that (i) I'm not to exercise ("Just take walks," he said.)

Oh, and "no alcohol," he insisted after I asked about beer and martinis. (Sorry, Joyce, still no Sundays over gin, vermouth and three olives).

After tense negotiation (and questions from him about good beers after I told him I'm a beer snob, and me recommending New Belgian's "1554" and anything of the Samuel Smith's brand), he allowed me to continue the one-(good) beer-a-day regimen that I'd put myself on.

"It's not drinking the beer (or martinis) that's the problem," he said. "It's the 'coming down' when the alcohol wears off," he said. "It increases the chances of a seizure."

OK, as I told Joyce, I've got a solution for that. I'll just drink all the time and never 'come down.'"

Hmmmm, whataya think?

Ah, but, under that plan, those steps Confucius alluded to wouldn't be quite as steady as the doc (and I) would want them to be. And falling is the biggest fear (for him and for me) on this road to recovery.

So, one beer a day.

And one step a day.

And after a thousand miles, back to normal.

I plan to enjoy the trip.