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For those of you interested, this is the abbreviated story (laugh, I know) of my brain tumor, which was diagnosed and surgically removed earlier this month. Today represents only the second day in nearly three weeks I have not been grounded by pain, so this post is a bit late coming (though admittedly, I first posted it elsewhere about two days ago). The experience itself was horrid, and I wish no one can ever relate. But, I would not go back in time and change it, not for anything in the world, because the experience has already taught me so much, and I know the lessons will only continue.
At the present, I am 19 years old, and realistically I should be dead right now. I did nothing to deserve or earn the privilege of my current situation -- Most people with tumors, especially ones that have gone undiagnosed for years, die. And I didn't. Believe in miracles? I certainly do. In fact, I think I experienced a few::
August 24, 2007.
Today I was given the best news ever: the lab reports show that the tumor removed from my brain on August 9 is not cancerous, causes no diseases or conditions, and is completely benign. Translated from the implications of this, it means, simply: I am going to live. That is better than the alternative, which on August 7th I feared would come true.
[Always one to over-prepare – a habit I think I inherited from my mother – I gave my last wishes to her and my step-father before surgery, just in case. I told her what I wanted to happen to me and my belongings in case I died. Also, I made two witnesses (they were strangers; I didn’t get their names), myself, and my mother, sign a Power of Attorney. This contract gave her the ability to make any and all decisions on my behalf in the event I entered a coma, or on was placed on life support, or in any other way not capable of a reasonable thought process. It also gave her the ability to make decision on my burial process, in the event it came to that. It was the worst, most morbid experience of my life and I hope no one anywhere ever experiences this. Lesson here: always be prepared]
The tumor had existed in my head, undiagnosed, for years. It could have been a bad kind – and the number of bad types far outweigh the number of benign types – doing damage and slowly killing me, and they wouldn’t have known simply because no one knew it was there. The miracle here is that my tumor defied the odds, which were heavily stacked against me. Simply because it was benign, the lack of a diagnosis does not make me angry. More specifically, the lack of diagnosis did not kill me. In fact, it almost certainly saved my life.
Only after an eye doctor visit on August 7th, when I was sent for an MRI, just as a precaution and not expecting the scan to find anything, did they see it. And it was big. The main tumor was only the size of a grape (there were several smaller ones and the surgery team had to use a microscope for those), but the cyst encasing it was the size of a lemon; it occupied, roughly, about a quarter of my brain cavity. It was so big it had actually, slowly over the years, moved my brain out of the way, and that is the second miracle: had the cyst been caught earlier, the doctors would still have done surgery. Except they would have cut through brain tissue to remove it. Then, there’s the potential for hearing issues and difficulty with balance (I talked to one brain doctor who actually had a similar tumor and operation; he is now clinically deaf in his right ear and he has trouble balancing – He can no longer practice surgery either), you could also lose eyesight, or memory. Those kinds of things are kind of important. In short, you are never the same, assuming you actually wake up, after they cut brain tissue. So you can see why I’m glad they didn’t have to cut through mine.
Here’s another fun part: the operation was supposed to only take an hour and a half, but I was open on the table for four. The reason was because the doctors had to be extra careful, due to a small surprise. Turns out, the team of doctors discovered only once my skull was open that the cyst was just two millimeters from the brain stem – basically the control system for your body. You damage that, and the repercussions are horrendous. This means when I went in for the first MRI on the 7th, I was (per the doctors’ best guesses) very, very close to a seizure, or going into a coma. Or worse. The thing could have killed me if I had gone on much longer without knowing about it. Just good luck? Maybe. But I’d like to think that was a miracle, too. I had every chance to die during this – if even one small thing was different I very well could have – but it is had become more and more obvious that someone wanted me to live. My reasoning is that you just can’t dodge that many obstacles without a little outside help. There was only one right road to take, and I know I wasn’t behind the steering wheel. (for the record: it wasn’t a fun ride, and I'm glad it is almost over)
Originally, the doctors prepared me for weeks of physical and occupational therapy either at an institute or at my house, being as the tumor was located in a place that effects balance, and both fine and gross motor skills. I am stubborn and impatient and I wanted out of intensive care. To prove I was ready to be released from the hospital, the physical therapist watched as I went up and down two flights of stairs with no help. And this was only four days after brain surgery -- Another miracle right there. Now, weeks later, I am walking, and talking, typing and seeing normal. In fact, I only have a few minor side effects: a quarter of my head is numb, my hearing is much more sensitive, and writing by hand is a slower process. No complaints from me. I think I got lucky.
And fortunately, once I fully recover, I have an almost certain shot at a normal life. I’ll be able to raise a family some day, with a wife, and kids, and teach them all the lessons that the experience taught me so suddenly. I’ll teach them that as long as you are healthy, and your family is healthy, life is always good, and you should never complain. I will teach them that there is nothing as important as a family that cares. Because they are the ones who will support you, and cry for you, when you are too weak to support yourself, and too worried to cry. One day too, I will be able to teach them that you need to take advantage of every opportunity, and to always make the best of what you have, because you don’t ever know when it all will come to a halt, like it did for me on the 7th. But the most important thing is, I will teach them that miracles do exist. I know, because in a matter of days, I experienced several. And I am alive and typing only because of them.
The morning of August 7th we were running late to an eye doctor's appointment so we stopped by a place for a hurried bite to eat. Unknown at the time, a doctor would find a tumor in my brain only two hours from then, and I would be rushed to the hospital for a surgery that would save my life (in more ways than one).
I woke up this morning feeling well, so we decided to leave the house, for the first time since surgery. At my request, we went to the exact same restaurant, and I wore the exact same t-shirt. Except today, we took our time to eat. Like I said, I'm kind of a bit stubborn.
Go Spurs Go.
2003 
. It already looks like you've done a great job of that.
