For those of you that have been following my blog since I started it a few weeks ago, you know that it's in my nature to poke fun at anything that has an inch to poke, but I think it's important you know that what I'm going through is not all sunshine and rainbows. I know many of you have gone or are going through situations that can be equated to mine, and I want to convey the message that it's okay not to be strong all the time.
Everyone has a different way of coping with their struggles; my strength comes my friends and family, and my writing, and it is portrayed through the dry humour in my blog, but there are days that I, too, falter.
I have a knack at making my journey sound easy, when in reality, it has been far from it.
After my diagnosis, my family and I decided it was a good idea to get a second opinion on my case from another Neurosurgeon, just to make sure surgery was the best choice for me. A week before my surgery, the results of that second opinion came back. After being told by my physician, and my surgeon, that my Meningioma tumour was slow growing (or possibly not growing at all), I was told by the second surgeon that my tumour had indeed grown. What started out as a mass with a 3.3cm diameter, had grown to 4cm in three months. The first surgeon gave me the choice to have it removed or not, the second urged that I have it removed immediately, based on the slight possibility that it was Mesenchymal Chondrosarcoma (a rare, often aggressive form of bone cancer). After being so sure that my tumour was nothing serious, you can imagine my shock. I read the news while at the Air Canada Center watching the Toronto Raptors take on the Minnesota Timberwolves, and you can bet, it was difficult to concentrate on the remainder of the game.
Thankfully, the surgery went smoothly, and there has been no news from the biopsy (no news is good news!), but the complications came after surgery. One day, while in the hospital, my stomach started to twitch on the right side of my body (the side controlled by the portion of my brain that had just been operated on). This happened again, and thinking it was just a muscle spasm, I informed my nurse anyways. The surgeon came in later that day to break the news; what I was experiencing were myoclonic seizures. I was put on a medication for epilepsy that I will now have to take twice a day, for possibly the next six months. This medication disables me from driving for as long as I'm on it, causes extreme fatigue, and weakens the liver. Only once my surgeon is confident that the seizure activity has subsided for good, will I be take off the medication. These seizures are not normal, but not extremely surprising given the fact that my brain had been un-routinely irritated by the surgery. Once again, one of those things you think could never happen to you.
Early this weak, I had my sutures removed by my family physician; with some irritation and redness, and one large scar across the back of my head, I was sent home. Until that scar is healed completely, infection will remain a concern (on the surface of the incision, and in the brain). In the case of infection, there is a possible risk of a blood clot causing a stroke, an aneurysm, or possible paralysis. I joke that having no hair is low maintenance, but the aftermath of brain surgery is not. Worrying about how to prevent infection is basically a full time job, and even without stitches, the pain of the incision is real and there is no comfortable way to lie down, making some nights (despite the medication) impossible to fall asleep. So, eliminating the tumour did not eliminate the inconvenience, or the worry.
I'm not seeking sympathy, but the reality is something that I don't always share. These are only a few of the hardships I have encountered, and I'm sure there will be more as I get closer to the end of this road to recovery. It sounds cliche, but what you need to remember is that the journey is just as significant as the destination itself; you can't reach the end without hitting all the bumps on the way.
There is no insignificant moment when dealing with something like this...
I've been told on countless occasions how strong I am. I remain positive for my own sake as well as the sake of those around me, but if you think for a moment that I haven't been scared, or felt defeated, or cried...you're wrong.
You're not human if you don't have moments of weakness.
xxoo
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