Let's cut to the chase. . .

So, I've told you about my unexpected jaunt to the Emergency Room late one Saturday while my poor dog stayed home awaiting my return.  I've explained in general terms the process of removing a brain tumor.  Now let me briefly explain what else this means.  Brain tumors are either benign or malignant (as is the case with most if not all tumors).  Often neurosurgeons and other specialists will suspect what a tumor is by considering factors such as the patient's history, symptoms and imaging studies such as MRI and CT scans but to be truly sure, they have to examine tissue from the tumor under a microscope.  This was true in my case.  The neurosurgeon had an idea what we were facing but wanted to see the pathology reports to be sure she had it right.  During the procedure, slices of tissue are frozen and examined for initial or "cold" pathology reports.  While it is true that on occasions these reports are inaccurate, in my case thankfully they coincided with the final pathology report.  In no uncertain terms, I have cancer.  That awful word (and yes, it is just a word after all) that sends shivers down our spines and makes us lose touch, even if just momentarily, with reality.  Specifically, I have what is known in the trade as an Anaplastic Astrocytoma.  This nasty type of tumor (not that any tumor is "nice") is a stage III malignant neoplasm with the very real potential to kill mercilessly and quickly--often in a matter of six months to a year if you believe some of the statistics posted on the internet.  That's just it, though.  I don't.  Or rather, I refuse to.  Not because I am in denial or because I can't bare to face reality but simply because of logic.  Statistics are, by their very nature, representative of entire sets of numbers drawn from all types of people both in terms of age and in terms of the amount of tumor that is removed or "resected" during surgery.  In my case, I've been assured that I am young, otherwise healthy and that my surgeon was able to perform a "Gross Total Resection" (in other words, she got almost all of the damned thing out).  I'm scheduled to begin Image Guided Radiation (5 days a week for 7 weeks) next Tuesday and will begin taking 3 chemotherapy pills at the same time.  As my mother told me shortly after my diagnosis--"Failure is not an option."  I'm now a person living with cancer who may have a hard road ahead but I will get there by placing one foot in front of the other and moving forward.  I will be keeping this blog as a record of that journey so that I can look back in several months and see how far I've come.  I will remember, many years from now, how short a period my battle with cancer truly was in the broad swath of time that will be my life. 

Surgery and Post-Operative

Following my MRI on March 27th, my neurosurgeon scheduled me for a craniotomy--basically a procedure where they cut through your scalp, remove a section of your skull, remove the tumor, re-attach the bone and stitch the scalp back up.  To put things into perspective, the scar that this surgery ultimately left on my scalp (which is healing amazingly well by the way) is approximately the size and shape of a horseshoe.  I was taken into surgery around 5:50am and was in recovery by approximately 3pm that afternoon. Following surgery, I was wheeled to an ICU room and placed under observation every 30 minutes initially and then every hour for the next 24hrs.  The next day, feeling much more lucid and energized, I asked if they could move me to a normal neuro room.  Eventually, they did so and I spend the next 48 hrs recovering and was increasingly able to rest since the observations were cut back more and more as my vital signs were normal.  By day 4, I was well enough to be discharged and was sent home to continue my recovery.  I must just add: the nursing team at the hospital were absolutely amazing throughout and I feel like nurses are often undervalued. THANK YOU TO ALL!



Stitches and Scar--48 hrs post-operative



Diagnosis

I'm not the kind of person that normally writes blogs for others to read and comment upon.  In fact, I've never done this before and never thought I would...but to be honest, I never expected to receive the news I received recently either.

I left home that night around 11:30pm on Saturday, March 26th with the intention of buying a pack of cigarettes and maybe a bottle of soda and returning home.  A quick trip that I had made many times previously that should have taken no more than 15 minutes. Half way home, I began to feel strange and knew instinctively that I was about to have a seizure.  I guess this is the "aura" phase that people talk about and I'd had two previous seizures and knew the terrifying feeling and the awful sensation of feeling my mind disconnect from my body.  The last thing I can remember thinking to myself as the seizure began was "stop the car, stop the car."  Beyond that--blackness and then, suddenly, I came to.  Paramedics and police were knocking on the window of my car.  I was dazed.  I looked at the clock--11:58pm.  How could that be?  I looked back to the paramedics.  "Are you doing alright tonight, sir?" she asked.  I nodded.  "We got a call that maybe you might need some help and we'd like you to come with us to the hospital to get checked out."   The next thing I clearly remember if being loaded into the back of an ambulance.  Suddenly the rush of cool air hit me as I was being taken out of the ambulance and wheeled into the Emergency Room.  I remember nothing of the ride to the hospital nor of how I got from my car onto the stretcher.  The next two hours blur together as my mind fought valiently to regain control and banish the clouds of confusion that had settled in post-seizure.  Several points in time stand out from that time like beacons within the mist.  I remember being told that they were going to need to get a CT scan of my head.  I remember being told they'd found something abnormal in that CT scan and that they'd need an MRI to follow up and explore this abnormality further.  The next moment of clarity that I have is laying in a bed in the ICU of the hospital, again having no recollection of how I'd gone from ER to ICU, and waking up.   There was a female doctor holding my hand.  She introduced herself and told me that she had some bad news to tell me.  She proceeded to tell me that they had found a mass in the left frontal lobe of my brain that was approximately the size of an orange and that they would be taking me to surgery the following morning to remove it.  I don't know how I expected to feel in that moment but to be honest with you my initial shock was followed almost immediately by calmness.  I nearly immediately went into business mode and told the doctor quite plainly that surgery the next day would be "impossible."  I explained that I had left home with the lights on, the TV playing and my dog on the sofa.  I further explained that I have no family in the local area and that a surgery of that magnitude would be simply impossible at that moment in time.  I asked how long she thought I could postpone the surgery and her response knocked me back a little.  "Well, we're talking weeks not months" she replied.