If I Can Do This, So Can You

To truly grasp the resilience we exhibit in crises, it’s essential to recognize my background. I might project strength, but I also harbor many fears about everyday life. My list of phobias is extensive, including everything from mundane occurrences like my cat vomiting to the terror of heights.

Though I can handle the thrill of sailing through rough seas—where life preservers are within reach—my fear of falling from heights is paralyzing. My attempts to conquer this fear on a Ferris wheel resulted in panic attacks, leading to dramatic exits from the ride, much to the dismay of nearby children.

A brain tumor was certainly on my list of worst-case scenarios. Now, I find myself navigating life with this unwelcome addition. Despite its small size, it remains a daunting presence—a real-life “Death Star” in my brain. Yet, surprisingly, I’m handling my emotions with stability. My inner Spock would say, "Fascinating."

I’m currently observing my thoughts and behaviors as I adapt. Am I completely at ease with this situation? No. But I’m pragmatic, researching, and engaging in open dialogues with my neuro-oncologist, family, and friends. I’m not falling apart, which is a relief. Sure, I’ve faced challenges at work due to fluctuating physical energy, but I’m still here, functioning and present.

I refuse to succumb to toxic positivity. While I hold onto hope and acknowledge favorable odds, I understand that no one truly knows the outcome, not even the skilled doctors treating me. Positive thinking does not eliminate tumors, and I’m committed to being honest with myself.

Yes, I’ve Had Teary Moments

Of course, I feel fear. However, I don’t dwell in negativity, nor am I actively trying to achieve a state of calm. This newfound resilience seems to have emerged organically, responding to this heightened crisis.

Enhanced Coping Skills Have Emerged

While I can’t predict if these coping mechanisms will remain throughout this journey, they’re here now. My faith plays a role, as I believe everything occurs as it should. I also see humanity’s potential as extraordinary; we are all made from stardust.

If you find yourself in a similar predicament, you, too, would likely tap into a reservoir of emotional strength you didn’t know existed. This experience has opened my eyes to the depths of our resilience.

We Continually Adapt within Our Evolving Crisis

For over two decades, the shadow of a potential brain tumor loomed. After my treatment for stage III lymph node cancer in 1998, I was warned that radiation could lead to tumors or secondary cancers down the line, particularly in my brain. Years passed without incident, and I began to forget about that possibility.

However, about eighteen months before the pandemic, I started feeling unwell. Despite numerous tests, no one thought to investigate my brain. It wasn’t until I broke down in my doctor’s office, expressing my desire for answers, that a brain MRI was finally ordered.

The Unthinkable Happens. What Now?

When my radiology report appeared online, I was apprehensive but curious. Familiar with medical terminology due to past experiences, I braced myself for the news.

The first note indicated brain lesions but didn’t suggest multiple sclerosis. Instead, it mentioned a word I recognized as related to tumors—“Meningioma.” A quick online search confirmed my fears; I indeed had a brain tumor.

What Are We Facing?

My neuro-oncologist clarified that this tumor is located in a specific area of my brain but has not yet infiltrated surrounding tissues. While the tumor is small and currently non-invasive, it can pose risks, including vision or hearing loss as it grows. The majority of such tumors are slow-growing and non-cancerous, but there’s always a risk of malignancy.

Although not all brain tumors are cancerous, even benign ones can be life-threatening due to space constraints in the skull. My doctor is optimistic about my situation, and I choose to align with his assessment and the statistics suggesting a positive outlook.

My thoughts during this time include:

> “I refuse to waste time worrying about what I can’t control. I will face what I know directly, as there’s no alternative.”

Further scans are needed to monitor the tumor’s growth, leading to options ranging from observation to surgery or radiation therapy. My current inclination is towards surgery for complete removal, but I’m aware of the complexities and risks involved.

Our Perspectives Shift Dramatically in Crisis

The human capacity to process the unimaginable has not escaped my notice. Within weeks, I went from fearing multiple sclerosis to confronting the reality of a brain tumor—one I’ve long dreaded. With this new diagnosis comes the acceptance of treatment risks.

If needed, I’ll coexist with this tumor temporarily, but I will adapt and cope with whatever comes next.

When the Worst-Case Scenario Isn't So Bad

I had a recent PET scan, which checks for abnormal metabolic activity. My previous scan was clear, but the results of this one had me apprehensive.

When I finally reviewed the results, I was relieved to find no signs of increased activity elsewhere in my body. My immediate reaction was one of gratitude: “Thank God! It’s just a brain tumor!”

This unexpected joy in such a daunting diagnosis is surreal.

We Adapt Because We Have Untapped Potential

The essence of this experience is profound. Our perspectives can shift dramatically during crises. Somehow, we manage the inconceivable—be it a brain tumor or another significant medical event.

This is how we must navigate our lives; we adapt, evolve, and lean into our circumstances. Our inherent desire to survive is powerful, even for someone like me who often feels timid.

Remember, we are all composed of stardust, which means we possess extraordinary potential. For now, I remain resilient. I’m grateful for the outpouring of love and support, which I genuinely appreciate.

If you feel inclined to support my journey, perhaps with a cup of coffee or a toast for the day I confront this challenge, I would be sincerely grateful!