It too much

My head hurts. This is too much for me to process. All I want to do is sleep. People are losing their minds. People are OK with *me losing my career because I will not comply for WHAT IS NOT RIGHT FOR ME. It’s too much. I can’t handle this. I need help. And sleep.

What planet do we live on?!

I was just told that my hospital is refusing to grant any medical exemption for the needle to ANY patient. Period. This is not OK! If you are living with 2 rare brain tumors that have been stable for 10 years and have no qualms about being forced to take it, please contact me. Otherwise, if you feel that this rule from the hospital is OK, please unfollow me now. We will not ever agree to disagree over this.

My “doctors”, and I use that term loosely, work for ME. They are supposed to advocate for ME. What the hell am I paying so much money for if this is the treatment I receive from them? This is utter BS. I have a voice and my voice matters. I WILL NOT BE SILENCED OR BULLIED. I have called the grievance line for the hospital and you can sure as hell bet I am not going to take this lying down.

Hopeless; yet #MentalHealthMatters, yes? So mine should matter just as much as the next person.

I don’t want to get the needle.  It’s not for me.  I have prayed and researched and studied and it’s not for me.  I don’t feel peace when I think about having that injected into my body.  I should feel peace.  I should have the right to decide for me.  If you are going to reply with “but the needle will eradicate C19” please stop.  People who got the needle are still getting C19.  They are still getting sick.  They are still getting hospitalized. They are still dying. The needle has not, and will not stop it.  Save your breath. 

However, if you choose to get the needle – then I APPLAUD you.  If you made the choice on your own, or with your family/Higher Power/anyone else you choose to discuss your personal medical history with – I APPLAUD you.  I support you in making your own choice for your body.  WHY AM I NOT AFFORDED THAT SAME RESPECT?  Please.  For the love.  I beg you.  Why am I not afforded that same human decency? You know, I am reading everywhere that #MentalHealthMatters.  Doesn’t my mental health matter too? Or just yours?  How is that OK?  How is that normal? I am terrified that the needle will trigger my brain tumors to grow.  Period.  End of sentence.  The needle isn’t for me.  I am in the process of asking my doctors to write me a letter of medical exemption if I need one for my employer.  My first doctor refused today.  My NEUROSURGEON. If I cannot find one doctor on my team how can the medical industry fail me like this? I am trying to have faith.  To be positive.  To live in hope and faith.  But, I feel hopeless. And I am terrified. I am scared. I feel like I am sinking back to the very dark place I was in last month, and that scares me too. I am afraid as my thoughts aren’t good.

Baby steps

This morning I had my first EMDR therapy session and I’ll be damned if I didn’t go straight to the few moments before the first craniotomy. It was so very much. 🤧

More to come

It’s so hard for me to believe that 10 years ago I began this blog.  Just shaking my head at where the time has gone.  Wow.  I am so thankful I have kept at it this entire decade because I have so much healing and growth to be thankful for!  Oops, ended that in a preposition but haha, it’s my blog I can do what I want.  🙂 What do you think I will be writing about in another 10 years?!  Unbelievable!

We all know this blog began as a place to update on my brain tumor diagnosis and subsequent journey to follow.  But, for my family (in the future) I want to share with them that I am more than my brain tumors.  I hope they know that now, but regardless, I want them to look back on this blog (on my small place on the internet) and see me.

Some of you may know, I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  I come from generations of pioneer stock, but as I read somewhere recently, aren’t we all pioneers just in our own way?  I carry the burden greatly of not being a mother in this life and the generation line breaks with me.  That knowledge kills me slowly sometimes, and it was very painful and poignant this morning during Sacrament.  I was sitting behind a high-school friend of mine, and I could see her sitting next to her husband and a few of her children.  One of her sons was sitting next to her and he laid his head on her shoulder.  Somedays, I am really strong and little things like that don’t bother me, but for some reason this Sunday I was feeling more vulnerable.  (NOTE:  I have been struggling with quite a bit of anxiety lately; I discontinued my anti-depressant – with doctor direction – in May; I have been feeling a lot of fear about v8x – which I may post about in the future) and with dealing with those emotions plus it being a Sunday during Sacrament I am kind a floopy mess right now.  😉  So, here I come to the blog to get all this junk out!

Back to the topic at hand:  I want to share something that I did this morning with my junior companion in Ministering.  (For those who may or may not be aware, Ministering is the new term for Visiting Teaching.)  Life is in session and between trying to schedule a visit between myself, the sister, and my junior comp., I couldn’t get anything scheduled.  So, I grabbed some blank notecards this morning and took them to church.  My junior comp. and I wrote a quick note to the two sisters I am assigned to minister.  I am hoping this gesture will make them feel better, because I think it sure helped me to feel better.

I guess to summarize, I think any small gesture really can go a long way.  For all parties involved.  I am very thankful.

Weep around the clock

I’m not sure what’s going on with me. I can’t stop crying. Literally. At a moment’s notice.

I want to be strong. I want to be smart. I want to be realistic.

  • Sunday was the 10 year anniversary of my brain tumor diagnosis.
  • Both of my cats are 17 years old and are in very rapid decline. Almost simultaneously.
  • Next week is the 10 year mark of the first brain surgery.
  • I am turning 50 years old next year.
  • I stopped the anti-depressant this past May, with doctor support and direction.
  • I am in the process of going back to college and am having difficulty with a certain department on campus. Also, I was denied financial aid and am in the process of trying to petition to have it reinstated.

This is a very, very short list.

I am so acutely aware of my own mortality and everything around me.

I don’t want to go back on an anti-depressant. I want to feel my feelings yet be very mindful of my limitations.

I am scared the weeping won’t ever stop.

If my brain tumors don’t end up killing me …..

….it will be the freaking dumb-ass staff at the medical clinics I am forced to interact with! How many hours of my life have I wasted being on hold with them trying to get a straight answer on something?!

That’s it; that’s the blog post.

Fraud. Also TL, DR

I am worthless.

I feel so utterly worthless.  These damn brain tumors have already taken so much from me!  And they continue to chip away at any self-confidence I have left, which is very minimal to say the least.

I wanted to attend a Thyroid Cancer Conference this weekend.  Wanted being the operative word.  It’s 5:15 PM and I just remembered about it now.  It’s over.  I missed Friday’s, and missed all of today’s.  I was in the works of being a moderator for an online support group for people with Thyroid Cancer.  How can I do that when I can’t even remember a stupid thing  like a virtual conference?!

I am a fraud.  A big, freaking, fraud.  Eff you Cowden Syndrome.  And a BIG eff YOU to Lhermitte-duclos Disease too.  You both robbed me of my heart’s desire and you continue, even 9 years later, to make me miserable.

I have mentioned that feeling many times over the last 9 years.  I feel like a fraud:  I may act like I have my crap together.  But, I don’t.  Not at all.  I try to be positive.  No one like a Debbie Downer.  I try to act brave.  But, I am not brave at all.  I am terrified of dying alone.  I am terrified of what my life will look like as my medical status moves forward.

I know it was only virtual.  I know that there are more important things to worry about.  But, as I continue to forget things, it just exacerbates my fear of what my life will be like one day.

What do you do to try to not beat yourself up about things?