I have had the results of my brain scan and my neurologist says that the results are “very reassuring.” I take this as medical speak for “fantastic” or, as people say these days, “awesome.” My words are not suitable for a family audience.

The scan showed that the blood (the haemotoma) from my brain haemorrhage is now definitely smaller six months after I was taken ill and that I may start to come slowly off the anti-seizure drugs in late June.

Apparently this is a delicate process because if I come off them too quickly it could cause another brain seizure.

The neurosurgeons who were shown the scans said that they had had cases where the blood had dispersed slowly like mine and that the only nasty thing that could be underlying the haemorrhage is something called a cavernoma.

A cavernoma is a “benign abnormality” of the blood vessels which could have triggered my brain seizures which would then probably have led to me having the brain haemorrhage.

So, in another six months time, I will have another MRI brain scan to monitor my progress.

If it is a cavernoma then the only treatment is brain surgery.

Before you all panic and recoil under your tables, brain surgery isn’t always as awful as it sounds. Cavernoma surgery is tricky but the results are usually impressive.

I made that common mistake, like you are now probably, of looking cavernomas up on the internet and was largely reassured except for the site that said that the cavernoma surgery required “highly skilled surgeons.” What are the others like? I thought – I hope I don’t get one of them.

I am hoping, of course, that I haven’t got one of these things up there in my head.

Six months into my recovery though, another six months wait is a bit of a downer.

But, hey, I am still alive and the only obvious signs of brain damage are a slight speech impediment and a “lazy” left eye. I have seen patients at the neurology hospital who have suffered much more than I have.

So what do I do?

Celebrate? Yes, I think so. As much as anyone can on my diet of three glasses of wine a week.

I may still be feeling like I have just banged my head all the time but, somehow, this news has made the feeling seem less worrying even if it takes the ginger out of everyday life.

The dreaded instruction to “be careful” hasn’t gone away – I hate that as I am really not the careful type. I do know that if I bend down too much my head complains – that still stops me from doing so many things that I what to do. Also, I want to sleep all the time – and that is just plain boring.

Life though, forgive the cliche, really is bigger than all that.

So I shall carry on, hopefully, trying to remain patient when patience is the last thing I want to practise. Is that why we are called patients when we are ill? If so, it is what we are meant to be, not what we are, I think.

Maybe I am just someone who is never satisfied but on hearing this news, I have felt strangely overwhelmed by it all. It is as if the last six months has just come back and hit me. Relief I guess but it means I am quietly happy but far from opening that bottle of bubbly, motor racing style.

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