I keep telling you that life is funny but I don't think you really believe me.
Fair enough.
I don't believe me much either.
It's part of the negative stigma of being "El Pinche Pirata".
Yes.
I know.
There is, in fact, a downside.

But this morning was a nice, "Ain't life funny" moment.

I had to meet a client at Emory Hospital to drop off film samples.
OK.
Not particularly funny so far.
Give me a sec' here, will ya'!

As I stood in the main hospital lobby, I recalled that this particular client I met during that time I was going thru "the great 'oma scare of 2005/2006" and was there at Emory Hospital quite a lot.
But, I also remembered that on the precise day that I was to have my first brain surgery, "the Amazing" was in another part of the hospital meeting with this client to discuss a film installation in an addition to.......
.......wait for it......
..................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................the new neurology/neurosurgery area.

Yeah.
I know.
You ARE freakin' out, man!

I mean, seriously, what are the chances that you find yourself working on and being worked on at the very same neurosurgery center at almost precisely the same moment!?!

I'm no math/physics major (looking at you, Deucey) but I gotta think those odds are less than 2-to-1.
Just a hunch.


And, because UPMC, where I had my 2nd and 3rd surgeries, recently called to request my most current MRI for ongoing research into survivability of chordoma patients, I decided to pop into Emory's Winship Cancer Center/Radiation Oncology Department to say Hi to the nice ladies who cooked my brain for me.

I got to see Willene, one of the nicest nurses/techs that I had the good fortune to be assigned in all of my treatments anywhere.
We had not seen each other since I finished being zapped at the end of September of 2006.
8 weeks of going to the hospital everyday to have your brain microwaved.

Little secret they don't tell ya':  you can smell your brain cooking.
It's a weird smell and you will not forget it.

Not that pleasant really - nothing that's ever going to get put in a votive candle, that's for sure.
Kind of a mixture of plastic and liver.



But anyhoo.....
Willene remembered me after 5 intervening years of patients, which is pretty darn remarkable, and gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek and giant smile.
Somehow, all that from the little dynamo who helped keep me around a bit longer meant a lot today.
It was nice.

Now that I'm sitting here typing this out another sort of odd coincedence comes to mind.
I have been in negotiations for what is one of the largest contracts we've ever done.
The same company hired us back in 2006 to do what was then our biggest contract to that point.
We got the go ahead for the install between the brain surgeries and the radiation treatments.
I worked the guys and myself like dogs to get the job done early so I could start treatments with an easy mind as I was really worried that I might not have a good response to treatment.
Fortunately, I was one of few who had very little side effects at all from the radiation.
But, I still finished a month long project in a little over 2 weeks.
It was a good payday.