Raspberries, how quaint.

The doctors didn’t even let her keep it. I mean, how lame is that? The neurologist slices her head, cracks her skull open, and removes part of her brain, essentially, and they don’t even let her keep the tumor. I know what you are thinking: they have to test it. Well, of course. But they didn’t need the whole four inch by four inch ball of out of control cells. It would have been put to much better use in a jar beside the TV, or on a bookshelf. Better yet, in the kitchen, next to the oils and spices. If you ask me, they were just being selfish.

That’s also the reason I left the stock photo of raspberries up; because it looks like a brain. A little darker, but even still. And I would know because I’ve seen one. My friend’s, actually. She asked a nurse to take a picture of her brain while she was under for surgery and the nurse actually did it. But don’t worry; I will warn you before I start posting pictures of naked brains. Well, usually.

But I guess I can’t start doing that yet. This blog has been started in the middle, and for respect to those who have a more intense case of OCD than others I will have to start at the beginning.

My best friend has brain cancer. This is the start of her story.