It's All in My Head

As I've been discovering in the past week, there’s no easy way to say this. The tingling/ vibrating in my legs and lower body, which I had thought came from riding my bike, are actually all in my head. Literally, I’m afraid. There is a growth under my scalp, which the neurologist says is, “On your brain, not in it.”

It’s not what I expected to hear. I’m not the type to have a brain tumor. In-grown toenails, maybe. Varicose veins. But a growth in my head – it’s way too dramatic. It’s also scary and a pretty rough thing to tell your husband, children, and friends.

“Remember the word ‘benign,’” I say bravely, before I say the actual words “growth in my head.” I have to say it over and over, as I have family here, but also in Oregon, Maryland, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, and even Denmark. Some become very quiet. Some may be crying. Some of them remain hopeful. “There are ways besides going into your skull, aren’t there?” No, I say calmly. I hope I say it calmly.

Some people rush quickly to how lucky I am. I am lucky, since the tumor is 99% likely to be non-cancerous and is not in the deep dark recesses of the organ that allows me to think and move and talk. On the other hand, I don’t feel totally lucky. In fact, I feel a little unlucky.

Life is rarely what you think. I thought I’d be wobbling along the bike path on my pink Cruiser by now, but instead I’m facing another kind of challenge. What I want now is to cruise through even this, acknowledging that it’s hard but not overwhelming. I want to do this with grace and tenderness and love.