Going Barefoot on Bermuda Grass

My mother came home — with no warning ahead of time that I can recall — on a hot summer afternoon after more than a year-long stay in the hospital where she had undergone surgery in 1967 for a baseball-sized tumor in the back of her brain, followed by a long stay in an inpatient neurologic rehabilitation center. I didn’t know it at the time, but even though she had miraculously survived an impossibly difficult operation during a time when there were no CT or MRI scans, and when neurosurgery techniques were rudimentary compared to the present day — several years later she would eventually lose her battle to this cancer — a type patients still struggle to survive. <a href="https://medium.com/@drroysmythe/going-barefoot-on-bermuda-grass-4ea9be435cef">Read More</a>