The Night Before a Scan

It’s Sunday night, December 17, 2023. Tomorrow, I have my biannual brain MRI. I’ve thought through the various outcomes of the scan and the next steps. There’s a flow chart in my head with all the possibilities. If there’s new growth or reoccurrence, I’ll wait to tell the kids until after Christmas. I’m debating if I’ll wait until after New Year. If it’s clear, I’ll be able to sleep again until the next one in June.

To some, it may seem over the top. To me, it’s necessary. My tumor was discovered two years prior, and I didn’t have a plan. I was with my 3 kids and husband at an imaging facility for a spine/neck scan. When I was called to get the CD of the scans, someone sat me on a bench in a hallway and told me had tried calling the referring doctor for 30 minutes but hadn’t heard back. His next words will always be a blur. There was “sorry” and “I have to tell you…” and “you have to go straight to the hospital” and “ma’am, you must understand, you don’t have much time left.”

I walked out, said all done, and we dropped the kids at their respective daycare/school. After that, I shared the news with my husband, and we headed to the ER, where I was immediately hooked up to all the things. I kept thinking I would leave, see a specialist and plan. But it didn’t work out that way. I remained hospitalized for 2 weeks. My kids (3, 7, 9 at the time) weren’t allowed to see me. I had to share the news over Facetime and watch as I was unable to provide physical comfort.

I didn’t have a plan to help my kids. I didn’t have a plan for my absence from work. I was a department chair/special education teacher. There were no sub plans. I didn’t even remember to clean my desk the day before. Prior to surgery, there were lots of scary questions, and I didn’t have answers.

So now, I must always have a plan. Not just for my tumor but the what-ifs for anything and everything for our family, even my kids. I don’t want to think about these things, but I must. I’ve never been one to make rash decisions. I like to research, rationalize, and think through options. I know this isn’t the answer, and it’s not a guarantee, but it provides the comfort I need. Unfortunately, it does the opposite for those around me, so I’ve learned to keep them in my head – at least the hard ones.

The fun ones I share with the family. If we get the all clear tomorrow, we will have dessert for dinner and stay up later than we should on a school night. If we don’t get the all clear, the plan is still the same.

TAGGED WITH: brain tumor

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