Damnit, Larry

Dear Larry,

GAWD DURN IT, LARRY. I HATE YOU SO MUCH. HATE. HATE IS A VERY STRONG WORD SO I AM WRITING IT IN ALL CAPS, BECAUSE THAT IS HOW MUCH HATE I HAVE FOR YOU.

And I'm done. Sorry, there. Had to just get it out. Okay, now. *Ahem*

Dear, Larry

Tomorrow is the day. Tomorrow is when we talk to the neurosurgeon again. This time it is to get the 'plan of action'. Tomorrow is the day we figure out how to get you out of my head. To be totally honest, I am absolutely petrified. Of course I did what I wasn't supposed to do and that is to look online. I just wanted to know where the clivus was! You know, the one that you're leaching off of, you giant turd.

Yes, I called you a giant turd.

I don't want to assume how he is going to get to you, Larry. I don't know if it will be something 'simple' as going through my nose, or if it'll be more difficult like breaking my freakin' jaw. I dunno. I don't want to assume, like I said. But the idea of everything really freaks me out. But, I guess the idea of any super evasive surgery would be pretty freaky to anyone.

Ugh. Just... Ugh. I hate this. I'm trying to be strong and I'm trying to stay positive, and for the most part I am. But I am scared to death..

And it is totally okay for me to feel like this. I've come to terms with this. I am going to be scared, ya know? I'm going to get my head cut open, how I don't know, but at the end of the day, my head is going to be poked at. And I hear it is a long surgery.. and not an easy one, at that.

But I can do this.

I'll keep telling myself this. I know I'm over thinking, and I know I'm stressing before I need to. But I can't help it. I know it is going to happen, I can't control it, and I have to go with the flow. That's just the bottom line. I have to go with the flow.

So I will.

And that's it. That's tonight letter to you, Larry. I am going to ask all my questions to the surgeon, I'm going to get as much information as I can, and then I will just go with the flow.

Sincerely,
Tara

P.S
No one likes you, Larry.

P.S.S
You stink, Larry.