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I'm so tired of talking about my brain surgeries, tired of the paranoia that I might need another, that the next time I'm a paraplegic, I won't be able to work myself better. I definitely don't want to attribute any success of mine to what's been the bane of a lifetime, but some of my imagination has been formed by it, to be honest. See? I've had a few hemorrhages in my brain called Angiomas. They're not clots. The opposite really. Like a blood blister under thin skin. A friend in high school summed me up very astutely when I was dubbed "blister brain." Sounds like a super villain.

Anyway, one such bleed was discovered in the Pans. The Pans is in the center of the brain-stem and responsible for dreams, among other things. My dreams have always been vivid and I've remembered many. After my fourth surgery, that area was healing from... whatever the surgeons did, and I often couldn't tell when I was awake or in a dream. Now, I can usually tell. So, in some ways, I live in my stories. I much rather run again, but I've been scribbling with pen and paper before I could spell, so I suppose I was meant to write books. 

If you could just help out and donate to angiomaalliance.com, that would make living with a disability much less exhausting. Because, though I'm out of a wheel chair, I still expend a lot of energy worrying that my son will go through what I have, since Angiomas are genetic. Hope that doesn't sound too sappy. Thanks for whatever you do.