As I drove down a familiar road, my son enthusiastically discussing video games from the backseat, I found myself in a peculiar state of mind. “Uh-huh,” I replied absentmindedly, my attention drifting. I was moving slower than usual, captivated by the sunlight filtering through the trees. Normally, I’m a mom on a mission, too busy to notice such details. However, that day felt different as I was on my way to pick up my recent MRI results before heading to the library with my son.
The receptionist greeted me with a smile and handed over the single-page report. As I exited, my son dashed toward the parking lot, and I began reading the document, my heart racing.
This wasn’t a scene from a film. In movies, individuals learn about their brain tumors in a doctor’s office, surrounded by family, who immediately rush in to offer support. Instead, I found myself Googling unfamiliar terms on my iPhone while walking alongside a 9-year-old whose biggest worry was whether he would get to play Terraria later. The hot parking lot smelled of fresh tar. “Hurry up, Mom!” he urged. “I want to go to the library!”
Right, the library. That was the plan.
During the 20-minute drive, my mind felt like it was splitting in two. One half adopted an unexpected calm, responding to my son’s questions with simple “Uh-huhs.” The other half was spiraling into panic: Why did I do this now with him? What does this mean? I need to talk to my doctor, but he won’t be available until Monday. How will I wait for answers? I’ll have to tell my family, and they’re going to freak out. Should I keep this to myself until I know more? No, that would only lead to anger once they find out I was hiding it.
“Mom… MOM!” My son’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “We’re here!”
I looked around, realizing we had arrived at the library. My son hurried inside, and I followed, browsing my phone for any information I could find on my specific type of tumor, its treatment, and prognosis. Most articles suggested it was likely benign and that surgery had a high success rate. Brain surgery? What the heck?
I envisioned characters from movies, bald and lying on operating tables, while the music swelled and their families waited anxiously. But those films never addressed the questions that loomed over me: How long will I be out of commission? Who will manage my kids’ activities? What if surgery leads to complications like a drooping leg or an eye twitch? What if it drains our savings? We wanted to buy a new house and take the kids to Harry Potter World this year! Am I about to ruin all that?
“MOM!”
“Yes, sweetie?” I attempted to focus on him.
“I’m ready to go. Can I have someone over when we get home?”
“I’m not sure. Let’s discuss it later.”
Somehow, I made it through two days of distractions before I could meet with my doctor. We filled that time with family activities: a baseball game, a fireworks display, a sleepover (complete with panicked texts from a child unaware of my situation), an earthquake (yes, we were waiting for the locusts and boils), Sunday school, a nature hike, and a video game night with pizza. We decided to wait to tell the kids until we had more information to avoid unnecessary anxiety.
I’m adding “compartmentalizing” to my skill set because I’ve perfected it.
On Monday, my doctor confirmed what I had seen online: likely benign, treatable through surgery or radiation (what?). He referred me to a neurosurgeon and sent my records. We began notifying family and close friends, sharing the news with the children over dinner, assuring them that everything would be okay. Now, we wait.
This isn’t a movie where problems and solutions are resolved in two hours. This is a waiting game, and it’s unfolding in my life.
In summary, navigating the reality of a brain tumor diagnosis is far from the dramatized portrayals seen in films. The waiting, uncertainty, and emotional challenges are all part of the journey, one that requires patience and support from loved ones.
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