If you were to ask me who I am, the first thing I would tell you is that I am a mom. I have two kids — my daughter is 13, and my son is five — and they are the center of my entire world.
Before my life turned upside down, I was an independent, do-it-all kind of person. I worked as an executive assistant for 10 years, wearing many hats. I loved my job, I loved being outdoors, and I loved being the soccer mom who was involved in every school activity.
But in 2021, everything changed.
The Episodes
It started just one week after I gave birth to my son. I was sleeping when I was suddenly woken up by a feeling I can only describe as being on a roller coaster — that weird sensation of your stomach rising. Then, I smelled something burning, and my mouth tasted like metal. At the time, I didn’t know it was a seizure.
I was told by my doctor back then that it was stress from birth complications. As the months went by, these episodes became more frequent and intense. I started having such bad vertigo that I would have to throw myself on the floor to keep from collapsing. I kept telling everyone, “There is something in my head,” but they just looked at me as if I were crazy and even called me a hypochondriac. I was told by the doctors that I had postpartum depression or that I was just stressed. I knew I wasn’t depressed or stressed.
The wake-up call came nine months later when I took my kids to the park. When it was time to leave, I realized I had no idea where I lived. I’ve lived here for multiple years, but I stood there with my baby and my daughter, completely lost. I then realized something was seriously wrong with me, and I needed to advocate for myself and find the correct answers to my symptoms.
The Diagnosis
I finally found a doctor who suggested I might have epilepsy. He felt that the episodes were most likely focal aware complex seizures, so he sent me for an MRI. The next day, I received a phone call and was told they had found a large brain tumor in my right temporal lobe. I did not have time to process such news. I had just given birth, and suddenly I was searching for someone to open my head.
I didn’t like the first surgeon I met; the “vibe” was off. He treated me like just another patient and didn’t give me any details. Then, I found my neurosurgeon. He went into great detail, explaining that the tumor was wrapped around one of the main arteries of the brain. He cared about preserving my functions, not just removing the mass. Right away, I knew I was in the best hands I could be in.
My surgery was on July 26, 2021. The tumor ended up being attached to my hippocampus — the memory center that is also sometimes called the “GPS of the brain” — and was deep-seated, wrapping around my brainstem.
Before I went under, my only prayer was, “God, please do not let me forget my kids.” When I woke up, I had forgotten certain people, but thankfully I was able to remember my precious children.
The Treatment
The pathology came back a month later: grade 2 diffuse astrocytoma. Considering the size of the tumor and certain mutations, including the IDH1 mutation, they recommended a year of chemotherapy and six weeks of proton radiation. I didn’t even hesitate. I said, “Bring it on.” I kept thinking about my kids and wanting to buy myself as much time as possible to cherish them.
Treatment was anything but easy. It tested me not just physically but also mentally and emotionally. Nonetheless, it showed me a strength I did not know I had. Even on the hardest days, I kept going because my why was always bigger than any obstacles.
The hardest part was telling my daughter. She was old enough to know something was wrong, and one day she told me, “Mommy, you don’t love me anymore. You don’t play with me that much.” It broke my heart. That day, I told her the truth about the cancer that day because I didn’t want her to think her mom was just checking out on her. Telling her about my brain cancer diagnosis was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do.
Treatment is also expensive. Around the time of my surgery, my support system launched a GoFundMe and raised more than $70,000 to help cover some of my out-of-network medical expenses.
Reclaiming My Identity
I went from being the person who did everything for everybody to needing help showering because I felt extremely dizzy throughout my radiation treatment.
I lost all control, and I just did not recognize myself anymore. Some days I can’t even keep up with my kids’ schedule. I now need to write everything down and find new ways to remind myself because I know I’ll forget.
One of the loneliest parts of this journey is that brain tumors can be an “invisible” illness. People tell me all the time, “But you look so great!” They don’t see the migraines, the epilepsy, the hearing loss, the cognitive deficits, or the fact that I have to read the same page of a book 10 times because my brain will not grasp the words.
Through it all, I’ve learned to adapt. I found new ways to navigate memory challenges, lean on support when I need it, and redefine what strength looks like. I may not be the same person I was before, but I have discovered a deeper, more resilient version of myself.
This journey also showed me who and what truly matters. While some people drifted away after my diagnosis, others stepped in with an incredible amount of love and support. Additionally, I joined a brain tumor group on Facebook and met some amazing people who actually understood what I was going through. Throughout the process, my mother became my rock — she moved in to take care of my children and me.
Why I Walk
Every year since being diagnosed with an incurable brain tumor, I have participated in the New Jersey Brain Tumor Walk. I walk with purpose — not just for myself, but for everyone impacted by this disease. It’s a reminder that we’re not alone and that progress is happening.
I’ve already done chemotherapy and radiation. Back then, Voranigo wasn’t approved yet. I remember asking my oncologist back then, “So what happens next if it comes back?” My options would have been another surgery and more chemotherapy because radiation is no longer seen as a possibility for me.
New research, made possible by organizations like the National Brain Tumor Society, recently led to the FDA approval of a drug called Voranigo. Since I have the IDH1 mutation, that drug is now an option for me to delay progression. Knowing there is another option on the table is everything because, as a mom, I will do anything to buy myself more time to watch my kids grow.
We deserve a cure. We deserve to live. We deserve more time to spend with our families and friends. It’s not only about time, but we also deserve quality of life. We’re going to continue to have hope because I know science will continue to make advances.
Now, I live life with a perspective I never had before. I celebrate the small moments — days at the park, sunny days, rainy days, time spent with family, the laughter, the tired days, days that are good, and days that are not so good. Life isn’t about waiting anymore; it’s about truly living every day as if it were my last.
I’m still here. I’m still fighting. And most importantly, I am still being the best mom I could be, and to me, that is everything.
