What a Long Misunderstood Trail
My trip into brain tumor land started very young (3 days old). It hit me hard when I turned 13 and no one could give me an answer but “I’d grow out of it”. At that age I started to get sick all the time, but no one looked into my head to see what was going on. With the two frontal lobes damaged from high pressure, I went on trying my best. I seem to recover some after two years, went on to be a pro drummer for 15 years. After that I started the same sickness I had as a child.
It wasn’t until I was 50 did they see the 2.5 pound tumor. A gift from a concussion at work.
After 3 years of rehab, mostly done by doing what I could still do, play the drums. It took me further than my neurosurgeon had thought, by a lot. But then I started going to the Minneapolis VA and I’ve never been the same.
Most of my days in the past seven years have been spent in bed. A place I have grown to hate. They took it all away from me, the Minneapolis VA is a nightmare of doctors who know they have a captive group. Their “care” has dug me a hole that I’ll never get out of. I’ve spent 48 years in distress, it is wearing me down. All I ever did since I was 13, hide the sickness, no one believes you. Keep going until they have to pick you up. 99.9 percent of people have no idea what a dark place it is. So after finding out what had made me sick for most of my life. Had it removed. But as for help, the VA is worthless.
I’m so weak, I’ve lost the means to fight them. They always seem to find a way around not to do what’s best for a man who lived, succeeded, with his head full of a brain tumor. My afford, in the end does not count. I’m still being told there’s nothing wrong with me. I now feel it will never end.