Life Changes in an Instant - Part I

It has been quite a while since I went into blogging hiatus.  Since my last post, my life has changed dramatically.  In March of this year, I started waking up with daily morning headaches that wouldn't subside until medicated.  A couple of months later, I realized that I was unable to smell those things that meant the most to me (the top of my daughter's head, my husband wearing his favourite cologne), nor could I taste a variety of foods: coffee being the one that stands out the most.  These things, added to the ever constant pain, and our impending posting to Ontario, encouraged me to see my family doctor to see if I could (a) get this resolved while I still had a doctor; and (b), if need be, get a referral to a new physician upon our arrival in Ontario.

Initial blood tests and early diagnoses brought about little in the form of relief so I was sent for  more tests.  My first CT scan was scheduled for the day the packers arrived at our house to prepare for the movers' arrival the following day.  Yes, we were leaving exactly two days later for our new western destination.  Anyone who has had a CT scan can understand that they're pretty uneventful.  You don't have to do much but keep your nervous body still while hoping that at the end of the procedure someone will be able to tell you some results, those being good or bad, and you can move along to deal with them.  This, I found out, is not the case.  However, I kind of had an idea there was something wrong when at the end of the procedure the technician told me they were going to redo the test with dye as "the doctor wanted to have a closer look".  I'm sure on the pictures from the second test they could tell I was panicking by the size of my eyes ...

The psyche, however, is an amazing thing.  Somehow, despite the fact that they couldn't give me any information after my CT scan about what the doc was focussing in on, I was able to block out all of the "bad" diagnoses I could come up with in my imagination and concentrate on our move.  How I did this, I have no idea.  I'm someone who thinks too much and has some sort of sick need to contemplate each and every thing that could happen, to the worst degree I might add, and go from there.  I think, at this point, my condition was assisting me by keeping me from doing just that.

The day after we took possession of our house in Ontario (barely a week later), we were at the grocery store stocking up on supplies when my cell phone rang.  I picked it up and immediately realized the worried tone in my Moncton doctor's voice.  I hurried outside to try and hear her clearly.  Turns out I had this thing they call a meningioma:

Meningioma: A common type of slow-growing, usually benign brain brain tumor that arises from the dura, one of the meninges, the membranes covering the brain and spinal cord. A meningioma may occur wherever there is dura (the outermost of the three meninges), but the most common sites are over the cerebral hemispheres of the brain. Meningiomas are the only brain tumors that are more common in women than in men. They tend to occur in people between ages 40 and 60 but can occur at any age. A person may have several meningiomas. Very rarely do meningiomas become malignant. The symptoms depend on the location of the tumor. Treatment ranges from observation to neurosurgical resection.

This brain tumor was growing in my head and it was about 4 cms in diameter.  In fact, I had two of these creatures making themselves at home in my head, one larger than the other.  My first question was, "Is it cancer?" and my second was, "What happens now?"  The doctor told me, "Meningiomas are not usually malignant."  Then she said I was being referred asap to a surgeon in Ottawa to get an MRI and to discuss the future plan of action, and that this surgeon would be calling me that very day to get information on a drug store to forward a prescription for steroids and accompanying anti-nauseants for me to start taking immediately.  At this point I think I blanked out because the doctor asked me if I had any questions and, while my head was swimming with information I wanted to communicate, I couldn't get one iota of information out of the gaping hole that was my mouth.

The next number of weeks were also a blur.  I had to tell my family, immediate and extended, and my friends what was going on.  This was difficult for me.  I'm a pretty "private" person, and definitely one who doesn't want people feeling sorry for her.  I've been learning since then that talking about it has been quite therapeutic (hence why I'm here now bombarding you with this story).  I also had to have an MRI ... seriously, people, I'm not a claustrophobic person but boy did that procedure send me over the edge!  Who knew wearing a hockey helmet with your eyes closed while being stuffed into a tin can and shaken about for 15 minutes would cause someone to freak out like that!  Again, not sure where I gathered the courage to get through that one, but I talked myself through it and refrained from mangling the panic button in search of rescue.  Thankfully the technician warned me about the shaking part or I would have thought we were having an earthquake!

Less than an hour later we were meeting with my hero.  An angel disguised in scrubs who was not only smart and knowledgeable about my situation, but also kind, funny, and in no hurry to get us out of our initial meeting.  No question was silly.  No tear was mocked.  He was (and is) a genuinely fine surgeon and an amazing person.  I can't say enough good about this man who essentially came to save my life ... (to be cont'd)