My name is Tyler Beam and I have an anaplastic oligodendroglioma. I have had two craniotomies, just finished my fourth cycle of Temodar, and started radiation therapy in March. My doctors did not expect any change in tumor size until four months of treatment had been completed, but we pushed for a scan after two months and the tumor had already shrunk by 25 percent! This was quite a blessing, especially after the problems I encountered in my initial treatment.
In 1999 I was diagnosed with a glioma and scheduled for a biopsy. During the craniotomy, the doctor cut a blood vessel and triggered a massive hemorrhage lasting several hours. My life was in danger. At some point during the surgery I had an out-of-body experience. Leaving the operating table, I went to heaven and saw bright sky and open space. I never saw anyone in what I assume was heaven, but the peacefulness is what I remember most. Then I went straight from heaven through the operating table into hell. From there I went directly back to the present and heard a voice clearly saying, “You have a choice to make.”
I guess I made the right choice, because I am still here today. But just two years after surgery I began to suffer from migraines, and then I began to have seizures. My neurologist ordered a scan. It revealed a large tumor in my right occipital lobe. Several opinions from well-respected doctors concluded that I had not received accurate information about my surgery in 1999. The tumor had neither been removed nor biopsied; it had had more than four years of uninterrupted growth.
Am I going to live? Don’t I deserve an explanation? Is this fair to my loved ones? I asked these questions daily, but there were few answers. I decided to quit asking. I have realized that life is not about the hand we are dealt, but how we play it.
Everyone will face unfortunate situations in life: a job loss, a nasty divorce, or a death in the family. Difficult times are unavoidable. Sometimes we see them looming on the horizon, and some sneak up without warning. Every morning I open my eyes realizing I will have to make countless decisions throughout the day. Do I want these decisions to be well thought out, or do I want to stumble through the day and have my decisions reflect that? I want to be a person who works hard to make good decisions. Nobody makes all the right ones, and I will be the first to admit that, but the wonderful thing is, I have another day to do better.
Brain tumor patients, survivors and caregivers play a very important role in finding a cure for brain cancer. Many people paint a dark and limited picture for those affected by this disease; it is our job to add color. I have a post-it note above my desk at work that reads, “Who do you want to be today?” I try to live like yesterday was my last day on earth and someone gave me another chance to live it. I do not expect to uncover a magical cure to take away my cancer tomorrow, which would be nice, but I try to throw myself into what I am passionate about. I do this because it makes me happy. People who are living with brain tumors deserve to be happy.
In spite of taking 3,500mg of seizure medication daily, MRIs, doctors appointments, worrying if the tumor is growing again, and countless other problems, I will make it though. My friends, family, and my amazing wife will not let cancer overtake me. But more importantly, I will not let cancer overtake me. Please, do not let cancer overtake you.
We must be the ambassadors for the daily fight and the future cure for this deadly problem. We hold the unique ability to change people’s perception of brain cancer and only we can do that. Let’s give this disease a face and a name and be proud we are resisting it. If we don’t defeat it for our generation, let’s set the bar high for the next one.
Tyler and his wife, Michele, recently moved back to Louisville, Kentucky where Tyler grew up. They celebrated their first wedding anniversary on March 1, 2004.
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