On January 18, 2002 I met the challenge of successfully having a brain tumor surgically removed. I never really thought much about that part of me till the neurologist informed me about the invader (along with MRI visuals); that had caused me a bit of grief for 12+ years. At the moment that blow was delivered I expected the doc to tell me I had a month to live…or something more devastating than the simple fact that it was even there. But here’s how it went as she pointed it out on the light box:
“See this here, in the center. It doesn’t belong there. It’s a mass known as a meningioma.”
GULP! “You mean a tumor?!”
“It’s a slooow, growing, benign mass. Now you don’t have much to worry about and you shouldn't obsess over it. I consulted with my team and there is no cause for immediate surgery.”
On my way out to the parking lot I lost it and mentally expressed a few choice words to that psycho-neuro BLEEP. I regained my composure, went back to work…attempting to cope by turning it into something light hearted as I explained details to my boss. I walked in and she could tell by my expression something wasn’t right.
“Sooo. Yeah. I have this thing in my brain…what the doctor called a mass. So let me put my head in this chair and take a load off my mass.” She wasn’t very amused and then I broke down again. Another one of my colleagues, actually best friend Trudy walked in on the emotional situation and immediately asked our boss for a couple of hours off so she could take me somewhere to find steadier ground. Our boss graciously agreed and Trudy took me with her to a nail salon. I was dazed and she offered to treat me to a manicure and I requested the massage chair in lieu. I can’t remember what we discussed but I do know we were our crazy selves as our somewhat unusual humor was tossed back and forth. We returned a couple hours later and my supervisor insisted that I pick up my son from his class, then head home for down time.
I followed her advice and my little guy instinctively knew somethingwasn’t right with “Mama”. I buckled him in the car and he threw his arms around my neck, pulling me into a hug of infinite love. He then touched my cheek and said “I’m here Mama”. That was phase one of digging my heels in and contemplating a successful comeback.
After I flipped over a bench a few weeks later and lost partial vision, my regular physician referred me to another team of neurologist at Denver University (background miracle choir). They took one look and decided to go in as soon as possible. Once past my brain pan, they discovered the invader had started to wrap around my optic nerves leading to an additional two hours under. By my standards those who tended to me are the best team I have ever known! Talk about gratitude!
The entirety of this episode actually occurred over a span of nine months, starting in June 2001. What I didn’t know, was that I had prepared myself with what I call advanced healing by the time I was sedated for the procedure. Once I had a grip the second week of knowing, I researched endlessly to be better educated and to be prepared. I had many reasons to survive everything that that came my way. I met no obstacles in finding a “why” failure wasn’t an option. First, I was a single mother and no way would I miss seeing the stupendous man my son would grow up to be. And let me add, that children have the wonderful ability to cope with things when you prepare them with optimistic facts of healing physically and emotionally. Second, I was not finished with my work that I hoped would inspire many some day. Third, I knew with every thing that I was in that moment-that I would survive as a part of the inspiration to others as a beginning to the second “why”. I embraced what I saw as a tool to empower individuals with, including my four year old son. It’s kind of strange…to think that I was grateful for the lopsided brain invader.
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