When the scans showed an obvious mass, I had to buck up and force myself to contact my late brother’s wife. I couldn’t remember the name of his tumor, and we were still keeping a lid on everything. So I knew it wouldn’t be long before I had to tell our daughter and then figure out the rest. So the fact-finding phone call turned up information that both solidified the fear but also gave us a glimmer of hope since they were initially categorizing the mass as a meningioma. Meningiomas are typically cancer free, but they still represent a fear of harm to the brain and potential death. So, my immediate family found out while I was still in the hospital. My boss found out so she could file paperwork for me to be absent and help cover my ass at work.
We told everyone not to say anything. I wasn’t posting any information online, I hadn’t mentioned being sick. I wanted to be able to process the information, deal with what was going on, figure out my feelings on everything, because even roller coasters didn’t have as many up, down, sideways and loopty loops as my emotions did.
In my haste to tell my immediate family, I accidentally included an extended family member by the same name as someone else I was trying to let know. I immediately asked them not to share any info, that it was not for public consumption, and to please let me tell people as I saw fit. And, of course, those wishes weren’t granted. I mean, I did mention the little black cloud of injustice, correct? Best laid plans, intentions, and all that gobbilty goop.
The hospital neurosurgeon did tell us that they had neither the equipment nor the cowboys to perform the type of surgery I might need to get rid of the freeloader that had taken up residence in my brain. I mean, whaaaat!!! In all honesty, I’m grateful that she did. She told us she was referring us to a neurosurgeon that she had worked with before and was very confident that He was whom I needed to be seen by. So, a few referrals, a handful of phone calls, and 2 weeks later, we were on the road to UVA and my new team of Brainiac Fixers.
When I say “we” I mean, my tribe. My three sisters showed up for me. Texas, Oklahoma, & Virginia, all at my daughter’s house, along with my daughter wearing eye patches. Because laughter gets us through the dark times. Imagine rolling up for dinner with your kids, to find your sisters and daughter on the steps, all surprising you, wearing these silly eye patches. I cried, of course, then threw a tantrum because I wasn’t getting the sushi bake that I was promised for dinner.
I knew they would be with me, support me, and just be there. We’re sisters, it’s what you do. But they drove out here to go to all of the dr appointments with us. Texas even became my own personal secretary in the visits, so I wouldn’t forget anything and we could focus on the Drs.
And support is what we needed. We felt like we were on this roller coaster of emotions, and what happens next, how do we feel about it and basically lost somewhere between losing our minds and being numb altogether.
Chapter 3
