this beast has a name...

Glioblastomas Multiforme. 

Mine is a grade 4 (i.e. - very aggressive)

You may need a small instructional guide on how to pronounce this beast. I found a good pronunciation in "A Patient's Guide to Understanding Brain Tumors" a small publication produced by Merck, a pharmaceutical company. 

(glee-oh-blass-TOE-mahs mull-tee-FOR-may)    

GBM for short...

30 year old man + Grade 4 Brain Tumor = Confused Cancer Patient

so what's next?

 


 
 

july 5th

On July 5th, 2013 around 10am I watched my beloved wife walk out of the room towards the exit doors of the surgery ward. I spoke to the anesthesiologist briefly as he told me what it was he was about to do. He said...

"I am going to put this in your IV and wheel you to the operating room, by the time your wife is through those other doors you won't know who you are" 

As I watched her walk though those doors, he was right.

The night before, Katie and I walked through the front doors of the hospital and onward outside to the front grass lot of UMC. It was humid and very much July outside and I needed one more trip outdoors before this surgery was to happen. We had spent most of our outside time here in the grass area where we could sit, I could smoke and we could talk. The sprinklers sent us from our favorite spot next to an oak tree to a curb, where we are to finish our late night conversation. This was really the last time we had alone to express to one another how we felt about the situation at had and of course one another. We dried our tears and went inside.

Morning brought us visitors, everyone that wanted to send me off with a good luck and GOD BLESS YOU. A moment of prayer was given, lead by my Father, whom had earlier offered to trade places with me, then a knock at the door...time to go. Katie walked next to my bed and followed me into a holding room. We said what needed to be said and made a promise to one another, the same promise we have always made to each other...see you soon.

At the time of surgery we had been told that it could be a tumor or an infection, the length of the surgery would determine this. Hopefully the surgery would be brief,  leaving us with good news of a soon to follow fast recovery. 

The news we got that day was that I was alive and that it was a tumor... 
 

So I can't exactly start from the beginning telling this story so I guess the best place to start is right here. 

I have brain cancer. 

It took me days to just verbalize that... The word cancer itself sends fear trembling through your veins as the doctor tells you, not the person sitting next to you; but you, that this is what you have. There isn't really a response to this as the spit in the back of my throat dried.  

The doctor looked at me with as much fear in her eyes as I knew was contained within me. I had no idea what all this meant at the time so I braved another question...Is it something we can fix?...and the same fear remained in her eyes as she new the answer wasn't what i wanted to hear. 

That day, July 16th 2013. My life changed forever.