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Life Goes On - Two times lucky
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Recovering from brain surgery — twice — requires initiative, resolve and support
By Anne Megahy
According to the Brain Tumour Foundation of Canada fact sheet, this year 10,000 Canadians will be diagnosed with a primary or secondary brain tumour.
In 1992, I was one of those people.
On January 26, 1992, while shopping with my husband, I turned to say something and was unable to speak. Although it lasted mere seconds, I thought it odd. At home, I wrote some grocery items on a piece of paper as we talked and later found undistinguishable marks instead of words. My daughter convinced me to tell my doctor and a CAT scan was arranged for March 31. Afterwards, the neurologist informed me I had a large meningioma (a benign tumour) that had been growing for possibly 15 years in my right frontal area and surgery was necessary as soon as possible. I was advised to put my affairs in order.
On April 9, my surgery lasted for about eight hours and I awoke to find my sore head in a cast, but I was alive and everything seemed to work. A small amount of tumour remained because to remove it would have been too dangerous. An annual CAT scan would keep everything in check. In the meantime, I was prescribed 300 mg of Dilantin a day to ward off seizures. After five days I went home to heal. My family was so thrilled with my condition we agreed that all I had to do was grow hair and I’d be as good as new.
While the hair growing was on schedule, my mental and emotional states were another matter. I experienced uncontrollable weeping spells without warning or emotion. Sleep was a memory. I would lie in bed with a small radio on my chest listening to talk programs and drifting off for five minutes or so at a time. Daytime was no better. I always seemed to be saying the wrong thing and annoying someone. No one understood me or could tell me things would improve.
Since I spent a great deal of time alone, I began to take note of my weeping spells, ‘blue’ moods and any other interferences in my daily living. The miserable months dragged by. On a visit to my dentist in July, his assistant told me about the Brain Tumour Foundation in London, Ont. I called immediately and was relieved to discover that my ailments were a common result of brain surgery and the Dilantin I was taking. I was advised to have my blood and Dilantin level checked and to have psychological counselling.
Blood tests showed low hemoglobin and a hormone imbalance, not uncommon after major surgery according to my family doctor. I located a psychologist who did a thorough examination to determine whether I had suffered any brain impairment from the tumour. The result showed that I had some short-term memory loss, and my word search, cognitive memory and visual perception had been affected. The good news was that I could strengthen these areas.
I became healthier and began to feel like my old self, visiting the hospital every year ‘just for the record’ for three years. Then, in December 1995, my annual CAT scan showed that the tumour had come back. Surgery was scheduled for January 1996. (Ironically, my sister would survive the same surgery later that year, as did my mother in 1971, even though familial brain tumours are thought to be uncommon.)
My tumour was smaller since the growth time was much shorter, but my mind ran rampant as I had never heard of a tumour recurring. I was afraid my brain and my skull could not survive another assault. While I fretted that my life could be ending, I endured comments like, “Oh, it won’t be any problem since it’s small” and “You’re strong. You’ll breeze through it.”
Since I knew how to help myself the second time around, I wasted no time in having my blood and Dilantin checked and again contacted my former psychologist.
To anyone dealing with a similar problem, I would suggest keeping notes of any unusual feelings such as mood swings, weeping to extreme, personality change, etc. I would also recommend having blood work done to check for problems or hormone imbalances, seeking counselling and finding a support group of people who have experienced the same health crisis. The Brain Tumour Foundation is a terrific place to start. Above all, remember, you will feel better. Even though my psychologist found no new problems other than verbal memory loss, I know I have changed. I’m more direct and impatient with people, which doesn’t enhance my popularity, but it’s a small price to pay because I won the draw — twice.
As of her latest MRI in February 2002, Anne Megahy is still tumour-free, though admittedly sleep deprived. Thanks in part to her work with the Brain Tumour Foundation (1-800-265-5106 or www.btfc.org), a Bill to name October as Brain Tumour Awareness Month has passed third reading in the Ontario Legislature and will become law upon receiving Royal Assent.
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