JPA: My Space Tumor

Juvenile Pilocytic Astrocytoma. I guess the cells are star-shaped, which is why it sounds like it should be living in outer space or something. Since it had probably been inside me since I was a kid, they considered my type of tumor to be juvenile (there are regular pilocytic astrocytomas, too). For a lot of people, these tumors can manifest themselves and start causing problems when children are very young. Mine didn't, for some reason. One of the mysteries of life.

Here's a link to more info, with a bunch of medical jargon thrown in.

The SCAR!

Here it is, in all its glory. Prior to December 4, I had never had stitches before, but the surgery resulted in 23 of them (the ventriculostomy required an additional three, but those aren't very noticeable). Yeah, I like to go big or go home...

Sorry it's a little disgusting. The doctors have assured me that it really won't be noticeable once my hair grows out a little more (the Sinead look will not be sticking around).

Things I never thought I'd be doing...

See, it's weird, me sitting here, writing about brain surgery. Up until three weeks ago, I had never been in a hospital, save after I was born, and then, suddenly, on November 30 I was admitted to one for ten days. You don't really ever predict brain tumors, obviously, and I certainly didn't predict mine. I had had weird symptoms--morning vomiting, headaches, balance issues, exhaustion, weight loss, and a whooshing noise in my right ear--but I didn't really think that any of those problems were a result of a brain tumor, of all things. Then, on that Friday, the doctor told me that I had a "mass" in my brain that was pushing on my ventricles, which were obviously compressed, and that I was lucky to be not only coherent, but also alive. I still don't know what to make of that. I'm glad I was? Yes, yes, I'm glad I was. And am.

So they inserted a tube in my brain via a hole in my skull, which drained the excess fluid until they were able to perform the surgery on December 4. The benign tumor was the size of a small, irregularly shaped Clementine, and resided for many years (we don't know how many, but potentially my whole life) on my brain stem. It's 90-95% gone now, thanks to Dr. Cornelius Lam and the rest of the team at the University of Minnesota. They're incredible, wonderful, compassionate surgeons to whom I am forever indebted.

And now here I am. Two and a half weeks post-surgery, typing this post about brain tumors. Moreover, typing this post about brain tumors and me. It still hasn't really hit me. I have a giant scar in the back of my head and my coordination is still a little off, but getting better every day. And I have headaches, different from before the surgery, though those are nothing a little extra-strength Ibuprofen can't handle. Other than that, though, everything's basically the same. I feel better in many ways, but...what? I had brain surgery? It just hasn't sunk in.

This sameness, though, the normalcy of daily life is what I am so thankful for these days. I like normal. I can do normal. I'm removing "boring" from my vocabulary. Boring is good. Boring is regular. And regular is exactly what I want.