Morty

Morty is my brain tumor. I named it so I can fight it. The plan is simple: kick the hell out of Morty.

The Unwanted Roommate

Morty moved into my head without a lease. He doesn’t pay rent, eats my groceries (energy), and keeps engineer hours—wide awake at the worst times. He also redecorates: balance, focus, and sleep keep getting rearranged like furniture after a bad party. Cleanup list: headaches, fog, swelling.

How he got in (the “move-in inspection”)

• Mar 27, 2025 — Warning notice. Stroke scare. Because life has a sense of humor, it landed on my ex-wife’s birthday. Creepy. Noted.
• Apr 25, 2025 — Discovery. I crash the car, end up in the trauma ward, and the scans finally catch the squatter.
• May 1, 2025 — First eviction attempt. Surgery. The team did what they could. I came out different, but I came out.

Repairs and pest control (ongoing)

• Radiation: 30 weekdays in a row. Think of it as changing the locks with a blowtorch.
• Temodal (temozolomide): 42 days straight. Side effects: fog and swelling—like Morty invited his cousins.
• Chemo: First night? Deathly sick. Morty didn’t move out, but he learned I fight back.

Emergency calls so far

• ER #1 (May): Chemo reaction. Stabilized, home.
• ER #2 (May–June): Dehydration/side-effects. In, treated, out.
• ER #3 (July): Swelling + pain spike. Monitored, discharged.
• ER #4 (August): Side-effects flare. Back home after.

The recent flood

• Last 6–7 days: ~30 lb of water (≈ 3.6 gallons). I’m tapering dexamethasone.
• Aug 22, 2025 — 8:00 AM: Leg ultrasound for possible clot (DVT).

House rules for Morty (posted on the fridge)

1. No rent, no rights. You’re not a tenant; you’re a problem.
2. No redecorating neurons. Memory and focus stay where I left them.
3. Quiet hours. Screens and noise trigger headaches; I keep things short and clear.
4. Visitors welcome. Sheri, Mom, Tammi, Ben—they matter. They stay.
5. No subletting to fear. Bad nights happen. They pass.
6. Maintenance is scheduled. Pills, scans, rest days. I budget brainpower like cash.
7. Eviction plan never stops. Shrink your footprint until there’s none left.

Status today

• Energy comes and goes. I use the good hours. I outlast the bad ones.
• Dreams are starting to show up again. That’s a good sign.
• The mantra stands: kick the hell out of Morty.

Log

1. Aug 22, 2025 — 08:00 Leg ultrasound scheduled (DVT concern).
2. Past 6–7 days Water retention ~30 lb; tapering dexamethasone.
3. Aug 2025 ER #4 — side-effects flare; treated and discharged.
4. Jul 2025 ER #3 — swelling/pain spike; monitored and discharged.
5. May–Jun 2025 ER #2 — dehydration / side-effects; treated.
6. May 2025 ER #1 — chemo reaction; stabilized and home.
7. May–Jun 2025 Radiation (30 weekdays) + Temodal (42 days).
8. May 1, 2025 Brain surgery.
9. Apr 25, 2025 Crash → trauma ward → tumor found on imaging.
10. Mar 27, 2025 Stroke scare (on ex-wife’s birthday).