Brain Tumor

I'm sure everyone has, at one point or another, googled "brain tumor symptoms." You're looking for reassurances that you don't, in fact, have a brain tumor. 

Well, sometimes, you actually do have a brain tumor. Like me. 

I have a meningioma, a benign tumor on my brain stem.

It started in early 2025. When I woke up in the morning, I had a "rush of blood to the head" feeling. It lasted only seconds. Google told me that this is common in older people (like 60+), so it didn't really explain what was happening to me. 

I thought maybe my electrolytes were imbalanced, so I started adding electrolytes to my water. The sensation went away, but then it came back. 

Finally, I made an appointment with my doctor. A head CT was ordered, along with some bloodwork.

About two days later, at 9:30 pm, my doctor called me. She said that my head CT showed a mass and said that I needed to go to the ER to get an MRI. She also suggested that I bring an overnight bag, in case I needed to be admitted. 

I asked her, "Is it cancer?" She said she honestly didn't know. Only an MRI could tell me. 

Within an hour, I was checked in at the ER and began the wait. My husband stayed home with the kids — I didn't want to worry them. My 7-year-old woke up as I gathered my stuff to leave and asked where I was going. I told her that a friend of mine had an emergency and I was going to help her. 

It was after midnight before I was finally taken to a room, and another hour and a half before I got the MRI. All the time, thoughts flew through my head, like "What if I have cancer?" "What about my family?" "What about my business?" (I'm self-employed). 

The MRI was expected to take 45-60 minutes, and I needed to remain very still, which felt like an impossible task. But, for many years, I did hot yoga, which has a 90-minute sequence. So I ran through the sequence in my head, including the breathing exercises. Before I knew it, the MRI was over. 

It was another torturous hour before a doctor came in to tell me the results. 

Meningioma, a benign tumor, that has probably been growing for 10 years or more. I was safe to go home, and needed to follow up with a neurosurgeon to discuss treatment options. 

I said to the doctor, "So... this kind of sounds like good news, compared to something like brain cancer?" He confirmed: of the possible outcomes, this was pretty good. 

I collapsed into sobs. The doctor put his arm on mine, and told me to take all the time I needed to process the information. It was 4:30 a.m. by the time I finally got home.

The weekend was agony, waiting for my consult with a neurosurgeon on Tuesday. Of course, I consulted Doctor Google, but meningiomas are widely varied. I didn't want to cry in front of the kids, so whenever I felt tears coming, I left the room.

On Tuesday, I met with the neurosurgeon. Surgery is the recommended treatment plan, possibly followed by radiation if the entire tumor can't be removed. He said that he wasn't comfortable removing the tumor, due to its location, and recommended a different neurosurgeon in Chicago.

Ger flat-out asked him, "Is she going to die?" The neurosurgeon said no, I'm not going to die. And also, I won't have any cognitive deficits because the tumor is nowhere near the "thinking" part of my brain.

I made an appointment with the second neurosurgeon as soon as I got home, but the first available was six days later. More waiting. The Friday before the appointment, I got a call from the neurosurgery department: the surgeon wanted me to have an exam by a neuro-ophthalmologist and an audiologist before my appointment.

I raced into Chicago for an appointment with the ophthalmologist later that day. The audiologist was scheduled for the following Monday. Results of both were good: no eye or vision impairment.

The second neurosurgeon had a very serious personality. He started by telling me, "This is a complex tumor." We'd decided that Ger wouldn't join me for that appointment, so he could stay with the kids. I figured I wasn't going to get any new information from the first consult. But in that moment, I wished we'd made a different decision and that I wasn't alone.

The neurosurgeon explained that there was a risk of damaging something during surgery, like my hearing, a nerve in my cheek (affecting my smile), or a nerve impacting the use of my arm – something like that. I'd be in the hospital for five days post-surgery, and possibly inpatient rehabilitation depending on any damage. Recovery is a minimum of six weeks, and possibly physical therapy for a longer term.

We set a surgery date for July.

I love to plan. Not knowing the plan is very hard for me. But there's absolutely no way to know the outcome of this surgery. I can only plan my time leading up to it, and plan for multiple scenarios that might happen after.

But I know a couple of things:

I'm not going to die.

The "thinking" part of my brain won't be impacted. When I first heard "brain tumor" I was scared that surgery would damage who I am as a person. That I wouldn't be able to write anymore. That's not the case. Anything other damage, I'll deal with.

I told my older two kids about the tumor. We named the tumor Betty. I promised that I would keep them informed as I get more information. I'm going to wait to tell my 7-year-old until closer to the surgery date.

We developed a mantra for our house, to get through these next few months: It will be hard. But it will be fine.