What I've Learned from Having a Brain Tumor

It's been over 5 months since I first found out about the tumor in my pituitary gland. Recently, many people have asked how I've been doing, so I thought I'd give a brief update and some lessons I've learned from this experience.

Compared to where I was 5 months ago, I am doing A LOT better. I still have challenging days, but I've started exercising which has helped a lot with energy levels and a happier disposition. The medication I'm on still makes me incredibly tired, but I've gotten used to it and it feels like the new normal.

So that's my health in a nutshell. Now for the lessons.

1. No matter what I'm experiencing, someone else always has it worse. I don't feel like I have much right to complain. Yes, life is hard, and no, I don't have much energy on a day-to-day basis, but my challenges are small compared to others, and it's because of that knowledge that I'm able to keep a pretty upbeat and positive attitude about the situation. I have a close family member with cancer and other significant health issues, so how can I complain when I'm not even experiencing a tenth of what she is? Therefore, I try to keep the struggles I face to myself cause they're really not that bad in comparison.

2. Negativity and complaining make it worse. I've never been much of a complainer (at least, I don't think I am) and I haven't dwelt on my health issues. As a result, with a little more effort than I'm used to, I'm able to get everything done and have pretty productive days. While in the beginning I had days I felt sorry for myself or laid like a dead fish on the couch, I realized pretty quickly how awful I felt all the time and decided to focus on the good. That's not to say I don't have bad emotional days every once in a while; everyone has them--it's part of being human.

3. Exercise is magical. I never thought I'd be such a huge advocate for exercise, but it was the only way I've found to help me with the side effects of my drugs. I've gone from wanting to stay in bed half the day every day to being able to function again. The last couple of weeks I wasn't able to exercise due to travel and BYU being stupid, and my body felt like it was going to die. I started getting crankier and wanted to lay around a lot more. A few days ago, I was able to pick up exercise again and now my body is feeling much happier.

4. It doesn't matter how you exercise; it matters that you do it. Today I found myself feeling guilty for not pushing myself harder on the elliptical. But then I realized, who cares? My body is still adjusting to exercise after a couple of weeks without it, and it doesn't matter if I'm not going as fast or hard as I was at one point earlier. The important thing is that I'm there, doing it in the first place, for the amount of time I need to.

5. I don't have do everything. It's ok to say no.
In the beginning, I felt guilty for not going to social events, not doing my visiting teaching, or not getting everything done in the time frame I had allotted for myself. While I don't condone skipping out on home/visiting teaching, I realized God understood my situation and knew I was doing the best I possibly could in that moment. Now, if I don't feel like cleaning or doing laundry, it's ok. I take a break and try again tomorrow. The end of the world is not going to magically appear if I neglect something a bit longer than I intended. My mental health is not worth getting stressed out over the little things.

6. There are multiple ways to do service. Sometimes I feel like service is seen only as completing big gestures for other people--going to an all-day church sponsored service project putting together hygiene kits, making dinner for other people, taking care of someone's yard/house, receiving inspiration to take bread to a lady on the other side of town. The list goes on. While those are all wonderful ways to give service, those aren't the only ways. Again, in the whole feeling guilty realm, I've felt bad for not giving service through the aforementioned ways because they are hard for me to accomplish. But I realized one day at the temple that my service doesn't have to always be some great physical act.  With my goal of going to the temple every week, I was giving service to those who couldn't do temple work for themselves (the temple is more mentally/emotionally demanding than physical). My ability to do different acts of service will vary depending on where I'm at in my life. When I have a house full of kiddos, I won't be able to go to the temple as frequently as I am now, but I will be able to do other things that fit my situation of life. I just have to find--and I mean actively look for--opportunities that fit my life in that moment and be diligent in taking advantage of those opportunities.    

7. People are mean or insensitive because they don't understand what I'm experiencing. This lesson is harder for me to talk about, and I hope it isn't taken in the wrong light. I know from the outside my life looks pretty glamorous. I have two good jobs, a wonderful husband with no kids to be responsible for, and a cute apartment. Additionally, we got a new car a few months ago, we go out to eat frequently, and we go on vacation once per year.

I am very aware of my blessings.

But what some people also don't recognize are the struggles I hide. We go out to eat frequently not solely because we can, but because by the time I get home from work, the medication I'm on makes me so exhausted that I don't have the energy to make a meal. While I used to diligently clean once a week, I now clean every 2-3 weeks. I don't have a baby not because I don't want to; I physically can't.

The comments I've heard regarding these actions are hard to forgive, but I have to keep reminding myself that people don't understand the emotional toll these actions have on me. Do I feel bad we go out to eat so much or don't have kids? Yes. Do I feel ashamed? No. And I shouldn't. I can't change the circumstances of my life, I can only adjust. And this is how I've chosen to adjust. I guess I'm still learning that people will always judge but it doesn't really matter what they think. I get to choose how to live my life, whether or not they agree with those choices.

8. Even if no one else understands, Jesus Christ does.
As much as I love my husband, he will never understand exactly what I'm going through. And if he can't understand, that means people even further removed from the situation won't be able to. But there is one person who does understand. I am so grateful for my Savior Jesus Christ and His love for me. I've been able to trace the different emotions I've felt to different events in His life, and I am so grateful He was willing to suffer so He could understand my pains, my struggles, my weaknesses, and my heartaches. It is because of Him I can make it through--and not only make it through, but make it through full of joy, for I know "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me" (Philippians 4:3). If everything else the in world crumbles tomorrow, I know I get to be with Him, my Heavenly parents, and my earthly family for all eternity. There is no greater joy than that knowledge.

My Health Struggles

This post is not a happy post, so read at your own risk. I've gone back and forth multiple times on writing this, but perhaps something I have to say will help someone. If not, I guess it's for my own catharsis. But before I get to the gritty details, I want to share an experience that happened a little over a month ago.

We had fast Sunday on March 13 due to Stake Conference on March 6. As the Sacrament part of the meeting occurred, I prayed to God explaining how utterly broken and despicable I felt. I felt like such a failure--in life, in my job, in my calling, and most importantly, to my husband. As I expressed these feelings, I was overwhelmed with the strong feeling that I was not broken; I was loved. And no matter what I was going through, my Savior Jesus Christ was there to lift my burden and carry me through. I may not be perfect physically right now, but that is the purpose of the Atonement: to compensate for my infirmities. I had never had such a stronger appreciation for the Atonement than I did in that moment, and I began to be incredibly grateful that this trial I'm experiencing is helping me to become closer to my Savior--something I've been praying for for many months now.

Now to preface this experience. (Note: some of this may be too much information for you. If that's the case, I apologize. It's not embarrassing for me, just part of what's happened). Jonathon and I went off birth control just before Thanksgiving because we decided it was probably getting time to have a family. By February, I still hadn't had a period, and three months is the recommended time to wait before going to see a doctor. I knew I wasn't pregnant, so March 1 I went to the doctor to see what could be done. I had blood drawn and tests done to see if they could figure out the problem.

The results came back and my hormones were all out of whack. Essentially, my hormones were not where they should have been that would have allowed me to get pregnant. Around this time, I also noticed a decrease in energy and an increase in depressive and anxious episodes. I was (and still am) very emotional and moody and had/have a very hard time getting things done.

The doctor recommended I get an MRI to see if they could find anything in my pituitary gland. So, a few days later I got an MRI. To put things in the timeline, I found out about the hormone levels and the need to get an MRI before that fast Sunday (March 10 to be exact), but I didn't get the MRI until the following Wednesday (March 16).

I waited another week and half before I got the results back. On March 25, I learned they discovered a benign tumor in my pituitary gland that's causing an increase in production of the hormone prolactin. Thankfully, the tumor is benign, but I can't begin to express the emotions I experienced over the next few days. Will I need surgery? What if when they take it out, they discover it's malignant instead of benign? How bad will the surgery be? What if I don't respond well to the anesthesia (my mom almost didn't wake up the last time she was on anesthesia)? What if I have to be alone during recovery (Jonathon's going to Texas the third week of May)? The doubts, anxiety, and fears went on and on.

While I knew everything would turn out, more than anything else I was shell-shocked. How could a 26 year girl have a tumor? I was baffled.

So I went to an endocrine specialist on March 31 who told me this was no big deal; this tumor was very common and they had medication that would shrink and eventually get rid of the tumor.

There was just one catch.

I couldn't get pregnant while on the medication, and they recommended I be on it for 2 years to give the tumor enough time to disappear. TWO YEARS. Two years doesn't seem like that long, but when your husband is finally ready to start having kids and your own biological clock is ticking, it feels like an eternity. I know I'm being a bit dramatic, but that was literally a hard pill to swallow.

Everyone told me how lucky I am. Lucky I don't need surgery. Lucky I can spend the next two years playing with my husband. Lucky I can make sure I'm ready to start having kids.

Don't get me wrong, I do feel lucky that it's not worse and that I don't need surgery. But it still hurts to put my family on hold.

Perhaps the hardest thing as this point though is how I feel physically as a result of my hormone levels being off. Like I mentioned earlier, I feel so exhausted. By the time I get home from work every day, I'm so tired that I can't even make dinner. We end up eating out 90% of the time cause Jonathon doesn't have time to cook.

I vary between feeling so sad for no particular reason whatsoever to feeling so anxious I can't accomplish anything. Right now, I'm writing this blog instead of doing the copious amounts of grading that needs to be finished within the next 3 days.

I struggle going to church; not because I don't love going, learning, and feeling renewed. Rather, I hate getting up, getting ready, sitting through 3 hours pretending to everyone that everything's ok when all I really want is to go home and sleep. I struggle doing my visiting teaching because I get so anxious with social situations and committing to anything when I don't know how I'm going to be feeling when that time comes around.

I have many headaches and migraines that make getting things done that much harder, and I lack any sort of motivation and drive I once had. I even have been super spacey as of late and forget what I'm saying mid-sentence. It's the strangest thing, and particularly embarrassing when I'm teaching and forget the point I'm trying to make.

Now, I don't write any of this to get pity. I HATE pity, and in spite of these challenges, I feel very blessed. I feel blessed for my incredible husband who's been a rock through it all. Who takes care of me and accomplishes some of the tasks I can't complete any more (like making dinner when he can and cleaning). I'm grateful for the love and support of my family, especially my dear parents. In spite of crying uncontrollably over small inconsequential things, they still love me.

And I'm especially grateful for Jesus Christ and his Atonement. Because of Him, I can and will get through this hard time. He and his angels are there to buoy me up when times get rough. He knows my struggles, He knows my pains, and He's there to ease my burdens. There are many tender mercies Jonathon and I have received through this experience, and for that I am grateful.

Like I said, I don't want pity. I simply hope that my story can help someone, somehow. If anything else, I know what it feels like to feel utterly helpless, broken, and alone. However, by turning to Christ, we will never truly be alone. No matter how much we feel like no one knows what we're going through, He does. He cares. And He's there to make everything better--or at least help us get through it.