Pooka & the Vast Lonely

Or protecting my creativity

On the eve of my brain surgery, I met with the neurosurgeon. He was cool, intelligent, funny, and compassionate. All the things one hopes for in someone about to open your skull.

I can’t remember how long the conversation was. Longer or shorter than it felt, I’m sure. What stuck with me was that he kept emphasizing how I wouldn’t even look like I’d had s…