May 20, 2024: My Ten-Year Craniversary

Ten years ago, doctors discovered a brain tumor 2.7cm, the size of a walnut, on my cerebellum. I was 23 years old. At the time, I was living alone and studying to become a professor at a graduate college. I knew nothing about recovery or the nine days I would spend at the hospital, followed by more time living at an in-patient rehabilitation.

I wish I had known then about brain surgery support groups and the truly great organizations such as NBTS. Friends and family are great support, but they are unaware of the possibilities. I woke up with a double vision and ataxia, which I have had every day since. Although my tumor is gone, an acquired brain injury does not involve instant magical recovery. I continue to recover every day of my life. The sense of self and the girl I once was is gone forever, but someone stronger stands (albeit physically less stable at times) in her place.

I have learned from physical, occupational, speech, vestibular, and vision therapy that I can be strong. My brain injury may be invisible, but I am not. Although I struggle daily with my balance, in 2017, I went on to hike the Appalachian Trail from Georgia to Maine. I climbed mountain after mountain, holding onto my trekking poles for support. I learned to trust in myself and in others when I needed help. I finished my master’s degree and taught overseas in Poland, Albania, and Spain. I published a memoir about my first year of recovery called Walnut and a second book about my hike called Raven. I worked for years at a University in Baltimore, and I now teach at a lovely college in upstate New York.

I continue to challenge myself daily, I dance to improve my balance, and I walk every single day. I may not have perfect vision, but I adore reading, and I encourage my students to read out loud in class and share their own stories. Although I wouldn’t wish someone else to trade places with me, I do wish to raise more awareness for brain tumors. I don’t want you to see the world from my double vision eyes, but I want you to know that not all struggles are visible. Just because someone can pass for normal does not mean they are alright.

Each year I celebrate a craniversary on the day marking my brain surgery. I honor my younger self, who could physically do more and yet did less, instead I make goals for the future. Last year I spent my winter break and went to teach at a language school in Ambato Ecuador. The year before, I traveled solo to Mexico. I don’t believe in can’t because recovery is not a box of “no.” Instead, I say yes. I encourage raising awareness and I tell my story in my travels.

We may never wake up and return to the life before our brain tumors, but we are alive and can do much more than be simply a survivor. I will always admire my fellow brain tumor survivors, and I want you all to know as well – I see you, and I will continue to share our story.

Opinions expressed within this story belong solely to the author and do not reflect the views or opinions of the National Brain Tumor Society.