So much for optimism. It is dumb.

I am such an optimist that I avoid thinking about what else could be. Things will be great, because they just will! They have to be! There will be sunshine and butterflies and rainbows and happy, prancing unicorns with ice cream cones and even the flowers will have smiley faces.

There just will be, o.k.?

I don’t tend to dwell on the negative or alternative plans. In fact, I don’t even make them. As a reluctant planner, generally one plan is all I can ever actually get myself to make. So, my plan for my dad’s surgery today was to be upbeat, exchange jokes with my sibs, and wait for the good news. But to keep me from compulsively checking my phone every 2.3 seconds for a text message, I dragged myself out of the office and over to a yoga studio for a class. It was a class done in a heated room, and as I sweat, I breathed out all of my tension and worry and scary thoughts that had been trying to surface for days, when I have been all, “oh no, bad, scary thoughts, you can’t come here. I won’t even acknowledge your presence.”

During class, I focused on my breath, my sweat, my trembling arms, bringing my spine into alignment. It was such a necessary respite. And when class was over, I was sure the universe would reward this focused work with a happy message on my cell phone.

You might guess where this is going.

My cell phone held one text message and two missed calls. Two missed calls. Not good. I sucked in my breath and was momentarily too scared to even read the message. Indeed, the news was not good.

The doctors found yet another aneurysm in my Dad’s brain.

O.k., wait. What?

First of all, fuck you, brain aneurysms.

Second of all, seriously? Three? Is that even possible?

Third of all, I don’t even have a third of all. I can’t get any other words out, except, what the fuck? And, Seriously?

They had to stop the procedure. They can’t do anymore today. Three aneurysms are too difficult to deal with using this procedure. My parents will need to see another surgeon. Another day, another procedure, timeline uncertain.

When I last spoke to my sister, they were waiting for my dad to rouse from the anesthesia. Then he and my mom will talk to the surgeon about options and next steps. We all know that next steps mean the Big Scary.

The Big Scary is full on brain surgery with a much riskier, much more invasive procedure. It means much longer recovery times and longer before life is back to normal for all of us. Before that, it also means a whole lot of worrying before the surgery (will we be able to do the surgery before one bursts?) and more paperwork, stress and traveling for my parents. I wish I had better news to report here. I’ll post with updates on the new timeline and game plan as soon as I can.

Here’s to sunshine and butterflies and rainbows and happy prancing unicorns with ice cream cones and flowers with smiley faces next time around.