These
are five of the scariest words I know. I know this because I’ve had a doctor
say them to me.
I
can imagine writing this page was hard, because almost anything I’d write would
be trite, scatological or particularly unprofessional. The ABTA, however, has
some really good advice on:
- Educating Yourself
- Seeking a Second Opinion
- Insurance (These dang tumors are costly!)
- Finding a Treatment Center
- Finding Support
Getting back to the importance of “Educating
Yourself,” the ABTA website – www.abta.org - has
tons of information on all of these topics.
I originally was told by my ophthalmologist who
ordered up the MRI that revealed the tumor. Here’s my description of my
reaction, excerpted from “Chief Complaint, Brain Tumor” - http://www.chief-complaint.com/
“The ride through the tree-lined streets of
Chicago’s north shore suburbs to the ophthalmologist’s office, though, seemed
longer that the four or five miles than it was. My memory of that ride was that
we talked about everything except the reason for the ride—the nice fall
weather, possible movies we should go to, and maybe the piles of leaves in the
gutters above the third-floor attic.
But I knew that, this time, something was
wrong, something that wouldn’t be easily fixed. My fear was that I had some
horrible eye problem that would require surgery. My parents had both had
cataract surgery and it sounded unnerving.
So I stewed on the idea of eye surgery (What
else could it possibly be?) during the drive and, in the process, torqued my
nerves so tight that I would’ve needed a socket wrench to loosen them.
We took an elevator up to the ophthalmologist’s
office and, unlike previous visits, we were quickly shown into an examination
room.
Almost immediately, the doctor entered the
room and shut the door.
Then in a no-nonsense tone of voice he told
us that I had a brain tumor and he could recommend a very good neurosurgeon.
My tongue tied itself up, then slightly
loosened, and I sputtered out something like, “Brain tumor?”
I was stunned. I was shocked. I wasn’t even
sure what a brain tumor was other than bad, very bad.
What do you say to somebody who’s just told
you that your life is going
to change, for the worse? “Thanks for the
really bad news?” “Please excuse
me while I start to freak out?” “Where’s the
scotch? And not the Black Label, I want the really good Blue Label stuff!”
I have no real memory of what was said other
than some comment about sending me to a neurosurgeon that specializes in brain
tumors.
There was a painful discontinuity about
hearing life-changing news on an absolutely beautiful autumn day. The warm fall
weather hadn’t changed.
The streets were teeming with students who
just escaped from grade school. But I had just heard the worst news I could
ever remember hearing. And the only people who knew it were me, my wife, and
the ophthalmologist’s medical team.”
If you have a description of that moment, the moment you learned you
had a brain tumor that you’d like to share, just write it into the “Comments”
section on this posting.