From struggles to successes

It wasn't easy the following days, weeks, or even months now since I was diagnosed with a brain tumor. The weirdest thing to deal with is the fact the I do NOT have any symptoms..nor did I prior to being diagnosed. From all the information I gathered on the website Dr. Chandler recommended (www.abta.org) I probably wouldn't have had any symptoms until it got worse and was in the grade III or IV stage of development. I would have experienced symptoms such as seizures (and couldn't even imagine doing that if it happened) And not only was I not experiencing any symptoms from a brain tumor, but there was the ever lingering and looming "life expectancy" issue that came up in discussion. Average life expectancy is 7.5 years for people diagnosed with a grade II glioma. The first few days following that dreaded news I didn't necessarily cling on to that idea...you know...the possibility that I could die before my parents, die before I had the chance to be happily married, die before I was able to have kids, or earn the Ph.D I have always wanted...but it definitely crossed my mind often. And it most certainly changed my perspective on life itself (although that could have been the car accident that helped change my perspective irregardless of a brain tumor). Either way, I found myself more sensitive to those around me, more engaged and empathetic with my clients (I am a substance abuse and mental health counselor/therapist), and less inclined to get angry over situations that might have otherwise pushed me over the edge. I found myself wanting to make personal contact with old friends I took for granted, forgiving people (and at times myself) for things of the past of which I was holding resentment, and appreciating small gestures of kindness or a lone flower growing with an aura of sunshine on a cloudy day as well as really beginning to count the many blessings in my life altogether. And speaking of blessings, that car accident was a blessing. If not for the car accident I may not have found the tumor in the early stage I did. God is good.
I do my best to maintain a positive attitude because it really comes down to this: you can either ball up in a corner and cry and be in denial about everything or you can face each day and challenge with the unwavering strength and love of God believing that what He has in store (regardless of outcome) is exactly how it will be whether you stand up or not. Now, don't let me kid you. Not all days are butterflies and rainbows. There have been days I have cried uncontrollably not knowing or understanding what is happening to me and/or what is to come. I have had days where I didn't want to talk to anyone or be around anyone because I was perfectly and contently miserable with my own thoughts of the situation. I have had nightmares. I have had sleepless nights. I have had trouble concentrating and focusing at work. But every day that I wake up I thank the Lord above that He gave me another day to live and try to make the best of each and every moment I am able to spend with my friends, family, my beloved cats, my co-workers, and the unbelievable support I have surrounding me since my diagnosis.
My surgery is creeping up quickly (it is currently schedule for April 24, 2012) and people often ask me if I am getting nervous. I always tell them "no." What is there to be nervous about? They are only cutting my head open and removing a life threatening mass on my brain. :) Ha!! Call that sarcasm if you will, but I am being serious. Afterall...we (my friends and I) named that life threatening mass Timmy. Timmy the Tumor. It adds humor to the entire situation and that is probably just another way to help cope with such an awful topic. It helps me help my friends and family if I can make light of it (plus I get to blame all my inability to concentrate, forgetting things, and random thoughts that don't make any sense on "someone" else). We are even having a "toodle loo Timmy" party the weekend before my surgery! Just another reason to celebrate life :)

For the unexpected--a poem

Lord, if in this time and trial

You decide to take me

If there is anything left

Let my legacy leave

An understanding to those

That I will inevitably be

Forever in Your arms

Forever happy

Let them not cry tears of sorrow

Lord, please pray that they see

That this is Your doing God

And that You were always with me...

Holding my hand firm

During the challenging times

And the easy times, too

You were there to guide me

All the way through 

But not just with me, Lord

You were also with them the same

In the waiting room, during surgery

As they waited to hear my name

I have made it this far

In this journey I've just begun

And you've remained constant, unwavering

Through the night and rising sun

It is You, Lord, that I am grateful for

Indebted to You forever

My life You already know

My future You've already conquered

Tara Newton--January 18, 2012

How my journey began...

So, for some of you who read this you already know the story. But for those of you just joining the journey I am going to tell you how "Timmy" came to be and what is going on thus far. It was October 8, 2011. I had just dropped off my 21 year old cat at the vet and I was on my way to have breakfast with my Dad. Just two blocks from my destination I reached down to get something out of my purse...milliseconds passed. Before I had time to react or hit the breaks, I was shoved 50 feet into the on coming lanes of A1A just having experienced the worst accident I had ever been involved in. Up to this point in my life, I had never had so much as a stitch or broken bone! But, here I was, sprawled over my passenger seat, I had hit the rear view mirror and windshield following...blood began gushing out of my head. Needless to say, I stayed completely calm...almost dictating the scene by informing those who stopped to help to call an ambulance and then someone to call my Dad. I wouldn't be going to breakfast with him after all. I was taken by ambulance to Baptist Hospital at the Beaches to have some imaging done due to the head trauma. Soon enough, my totaled car and the 18 stitches I had in my forehead would be the least of my concern. The emergency room doctor entered the room, surrounded by my entourage of family, and began to explain that an abnormality was found on my brain. Having determined it was not caused by the car accident they sent me to Baptist Hospital Downtown for more testing. It was in those next 2 1/2 days I would learn that I had a brain tumor. Multiple doctors, neurologists, nurses, tests of all kind later I was released to go home with an appointment set up to see a neurosurgeon. Ultimately I would have to schedule a biopsy to determine just what kind of tumor was in this ol' brain of mine. So I did, November 22, 2011 was the day. I was put under anesthesia and Dr. Chandler drilled a hole in my head and took a sample of tissue from the tumor to test. Weeks passed and I grew more and more uneasy waiting to hear about the results of the biopsy. On December 7, 2011 the results were in and my mother, father and step father all gathered into a tiny doctors office. Dr. Chandler entered the room and escorted us instead to a conference room. I was diagnosed with a fairly common, yet uncommon type of brain tumor. Medically speaking it is called a low grade glioma. Scientifically speaking, it is referred to as a Diffuse Astrocytoma Grade II. Throughout all the information that was given on that day, two things stood out before I went numb: treatment options (surgery to remove, chemotherapy/radiation, or wait and watch), and life expectancy. Wait, there is a life expectancy with my brain tumor? Awesome.  Dr. Chandler explained that most people with this type of tumor will live five years, some will live 10 years, and not all will live 15 years. What? 15 years? But I'm only 26 years old.  Exactly. And yet the only thing I kept telling myself was not to cry in front of my parents and that I had to go back to work. This couldn't interrupt my life, not now...how could it? I have too much to do and I'll be damned if something like this would stand in my way. So that's what I did. I went back to work after that morning appointment. I didn't know how to react. I calmly told my closest friends, co-workers and other family members waiting to hear the news, my voice steady and unwavering. I knew if I could sound or look like I was okay, then surely they could believe it.

To be continued...