Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • "Cowards die a thousand deaths. The valiant taste of death but once. "

    Shakespeare, William
  •   *            *            *            *  

    "I have a brain tumor."

    "Oh, Garrett, I'm so sorry."

    "I just found out. The doctor said it was nonmalignant, a meningioma. It's small. But I've been in such a panic about it. I'm really afraid. Afraid he's not telling the truth."

    "He said meningioma?"


    "I have a meningioma. I was terrified when I learned I had a brain tumor. A friend had recently died from a brain tumor. Died, really quickly, too. It was horrible. So that's what I was picturing. Death, imminent. But I've had mine for nine years now. Well, longer probably, they found it nine years ago when I had an MRI for something else. "

    "Me too! The MRI thing, I mean."

    "Mine's only grown 2 millimeters in nine years. The doctor says I'll die of something else before the tumor kills me. That's not exactly reassuring, but life is a terminal disease. I’m not contented with the idea of having to die, but I've sort of gotten used to the tumor being there."

  • *

    "I can't imagine getting used to it. Now I have two kinds of nightmares, nightmares of drowning and nightmares of dying from a brain tumor. I feel as if I am on death row with two death sentences. Even were I to escape one, the other would get me.

    "It would be as if, just as they were leading me to the electric chair, the president pardoned me from one charge, but no one mentioned the other. So the relentless march begins again . . . the chair comes closer . . .”

    "I know what you mean, I really do. I see that approaching chair, only mine comes in the form of a grim reaper, with a blindingly white skull and black eye sockets.

    "My mother had a meningioma that grew to the size of a lemon. They took it out, but she was never the same. It runs in families. Does your Mom have one?"

    "Not so's I've heard."

    "Maybe she should have an MRI."

    "I could have inherited it from my father's side. Getting my Mom to take an MRI seems unlikely. But maybe I'll try."

    "When you have nightmares, what happens?"

    "I wake up in a sweat, with my heart pounding."

    "You're a little skinny guy, so you probably don't have sleep apnea, but it's possible. Ask your doctor about it."

    "Sleep apnea. What does that have to do with nightmares?"

               *            *            *            *  
  • I (Mary) am not "the valiant."

    I hate to admit that I am one of the ones who "die" more often than necessary.
  • I have a meningioma (brain tumor). I've been living with it for many years now. It is slow growing and nonmalignant but still scary and upsetting. The first and last photos are of my own brain tumor (meningioma).
  • This is Discovery at Little Hog Island, Chapter 13, part 3 section 72. It is part of a serial novel hopeful I've been working on.


    Links to the COWBIRD installments of my serial novel hopeful, Discovery at Little Hog Island. (These are only links to cowbird stories, nothing else.)

    To start at the beginning of this serial novel, go here: first installment


    Previous installment: 71: Garrett's Fear


    54: Chapter 10, part one, section 54.
    55: Chapter 10, part 2, section 55.
    56: Chapter 10, part 3, section 56
    57: Chapter 10, part 4, section 57
    58: Chapter 10, part 5 section 58
    59: Chapter 11, part 1, section 59
    60: Chapter 11, part 2, section 60
    61: Chapter 11, part 3, section 61
    62: Chapter 11, part 4, section 62
    63: Chapter 11, part 5, section 63
    64: Chapter 11, part 6. section 64
    65: Chapter 12, part 1, section 65
    66: Chapter 12, part 2, section 66
    67: Chapter 12, part 3, section 67
    68: Chapter 12, part 4, section 68
    69: Chapter 12, part 5, section 69
    70: Chapter 13, part 1, section 70

       *         *          *         *       
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.