I’ve been in a funk for a few years now, ever since I was first diagnosed with a brain tumor. I walked out of the doctor’s office that day in shock, holding it together until I sat in my car in the parking lot.
And I cried. Not just a little cry, but the kind that comes from way deep down in the soul.
This wasn’t supposed to happen to me.
But it did happen to me, and I needed to figure out how to deal with it. It’s been a deep internal journey since then.
I didn’t cry for months. Not even when my little girl asked me, “Mom, are you going to die?”
A long discussion about death ensued and I explained that no one knows when it’s their time to leave this world, so it isn’t something we needed to worry about just yet. Over two years later, I’m still here.
I don’t talk about it much, not at home, not with extended family, not at work or on social media channels. What’s to say? I know there are many people out there with blogs or social media accounts and they share every headache, earache, etc. And there are so many people with more serious health issues than me. Maybe this post here is a bit TMI, but it’s cathartic for me. This way, I don’t have to tell the same story over and over.
Last month I cruised solo and it was much needed. I had word just before I left that my tumor had grown. All that was left was meeting with specialists to take the next step.
I had already been through the stages leading to acceptance and had resigned myself to impending brain surgery. I knew that was the only option left. The type of tumor I have isn’t the kind that’s responsive to chemo and I’m told radiation of the brain is too risky at my age. I’ve taken all the medications my body can handle and I refuse to allow the treatment of the symptoms take away from my quality of life anymore.
I had a chat with my oncologist and as sweet as that man is, he even admitted there’s nothing else to be done besides surgery. Then was the appointment with my neurologist, who concurred and and sent me to a neurosurgeon. The bottom line is, my tumor has not only grown, but it’s also too close to an artery for removal unless things go seriously downhill. I’ve been given another six month reprieve, and I plan on making the most of it.
I’ll admit, this news is bittersweet. I’m not quite ready to have my head opened up and all the risks it entails, but it also scares the hell out of me that it has to stay there a while longer. As it grows, it gets closer to an artery. This means there will be an added risk when it is time for the surgery. Until then, I’ll just deal.
I boarded my flight to Vegas last week with a heavy heart. In fact, I almost cancelled my trip because I was that down about things. I didn’t even pack until two hours before my flight left. But I realized if I didn’t go, I would be letting Mr. Miyagi (the tumor) win. And I’m glad I went, because this trip to CES changed me profoundly.
I met up with old acquaintances and made some new friends. I got to jam for a few minutes with Bob Marley’s son, Rohan. And I was one of the lucky few media people able to secure a spot at the Nokia press conference. In the middle of all the chaos that is the International Consumer Electronics Show, I found peace and happiness with what I’ve been given in life. And it made me smile to think of all the unbelievable moments I’ve experienced.
One night I sat in my hotel room and the tears flowed again. It was the deep sobbing, like the day I learned about Mr. Miyagi, but it was also a cleansing of the soul. I had been keeping so much emotion bottled inside that it was blocking my creative flow. I’ve had some serious writer’s block since that day in the parking lot.
Even if the trips and fun projects end now, I’ve had a good run. I’ve done more in my life than most people could even imagine. My family is amazing and I couldn’t be more blessed. I know I’m not perfect (never claimed to be), but I do my best to live a good life and I have NO regrets. None.
Yes. I do have intense headaches every day, but you won’t hear me complain about them. Instead, I’m singing Coldplay, Adele, U2, and Kenny Chesney at the top of my lungs. And yes, I do cry a bit more now since I’m no longer holding in everything. And it feels good. I feel good. And I’ve got a lot more living to do.
If our paths have ever crossed, be it virtually or in real life, I want to thank YOU for being part of all the amazing moments that have led up to this one right here.
Nobody inspires me more than you Shannon. Your positive attitude, sense of humor and heart wrenching candor have me cheering you on and praying daily that Mr. Miyagi shrinks within an inch of his miserable life if not totally disappears! You are an amazing and incredibly talented woman, brave, generous and admirable in every aspect. I am grateful for your virtual friendship, that you have taken the time to get to know me, teach and share with me what you know. It’s a rare find to meet someone like you and I am so grateful that you tweeted into my life. I look forward to meeting up again IRL in 2012! xoxo
Good for you. You’re one of the very few people to come out of Las Vegas a winner.
Shannon,
You amaze me often. I love seeing your words on my twitter stream. I love bumping into on the way to a wedding to see two people who neither of us have met or known get married AGAIN in Disney. I love everything about you and your site that I know. Keep your chin up and if you want to cry that is okay too. xoxoxoxo I have never been to Los Vegas but know what it is like to be among the crazy and find the peace. Happy for you!
It was great to catch up with you in Vegas Shannon, and just like our marketing slogan …. you are “Amazing Everyday” Mrs H L
Aw honey, I had no idea you’ve been going through this scary, scary hell. You have more life, vitality, fun and sunshine in you than six lesser women put together. Still, I reckon that sheer guts and determination can sometimes work miracles, and you have plenty of both, so Mr. Miyagi had better watch out! (And I don’t know how you feel about more woo-woo kinds of treatments, but if you’re up for it, it might be worth looking into Pranic healing, meditation, visualization–anything that can help strengthen your immune system and boost the effects of more traditional medicine.) Meanwhile, I am sending you positive thoughts (shrink, you evil bastard!)and big hugs.
Shannon,
You are amazing – that path that put you in my life is a beautiful one and I’m glad to have walked on it for a few feet with you (a mile or so more would be fantastic, don’t you think). An inspiration as a mother and a woman, your attitude and work ethic is second to none.
Love,
Julie
Shannon you rock. I had no idea you were going through this.I am sorry for the hard times you are experiencing. I see your postigs on fb and they are always one of the few i like to read. Most folks turn away from joy and happiness when life deals them this sort of hand. I can tell by your posts and pictures you post that you have not. I am inspired. We all have a big bad wolf out there looking for us. We just dont see ourse
Sorry I wzas doing that from my not so smart phone and posted befor I was finished. As I was saying, There is a big bad wolf out there for each one of us. Most are just lucky enough to not see him. Yours is at your front door; and instead of running and hiding from him like most would, you have went on the front porch and kicked him in the nuts. Shannon, since we were kids your friendship has always been a pleasure and you a pleasure to be around. Through the years(and Its been a bunch), I have seemed to smile when I think of you or here something about you. I wish the best for you and your family. My prayers and positive thoughts are with ya’ll.
I had no idea any of this was going on and as we chatted about if we’d see each other at CES I was bummed we would not, but now knowing this I’m….well I’m not sure how to clarify what I am, but I’m concerned about you.
Our paths have not crossed as much as I would like and yet this news hit me like a ton of bricks. My thoughts, prayers and hugs are always here for you.
Yay! You. Great outlook. Makes my whiney-ass problems seem pretty insignificant. And they are, actually. So, thank you. Bless you. Yay! You!
Shannon…I know you’ll understand this when I say how glad I am that I read your post today as it gave me the kick in the ass I needed. I’ve been having a hard time the past few weeks, all around issues stemming from someone else’s death. Someone else, not me. I didn’t die. And your post reminded me. So, thank you. I am sorry that Mr. Miyagi is being such a jerk though. And I think you’ve got really pretty hair. So, there’s that.
You my darlin’ are an inspiration. So sorry you’re having to deal with all of this, but a strong attitude makes a big difference when fighting something like this and you’ve got that in spades. Sorry I missed you at CES this year, but I know you made the event better for everyone that got to spend some time with you there, and that’s a testament to what a special person you are. Feel free to let me know if I can ever help you with anything!
Sometimes there are no words to express one’s emotions upon hearing the sad news of another…What does come to mind is the appreciation that one feels for someone who smiles, L,laughs, gives of themselves in the face of danger. I want you to know how much I admire you. I will keep you in constant prayer in hope that the brain tumor can be removed…with little residual signs. Keep living…Loving…You are one brave woman. My best to you always…God Bless You.
I’m having difficulty expressing how much I appreciate you writing this. So I am just going to say thank you. I am so grateful to call you a friend as well as a colleague.
Shannon, you are amazing. I’m sitting here sobbing. That day I met you at Disney, I knew you were special…
I want to write more … but I can’t stop crying. Let me come back. x
Shannon,
I can’t imagine that talk with my child… having had a friend in a similar spot (brain surgery because of a tumor) I can understand what all you must be going through… I can only hope that your outcome is as good as hers… removal and a return to almost normal…
You will continue to be, as you always have been, in my prayer friend.
I’m back.
That moment when I met you. You changed my life. I missed not seeing you at BlogHer, and when Jen mentioned that you weren’t well – I didn’t quite understand to what extent and didn’t want to ask (in case it was rude).
Moments after I sobbed through reading this post this morning, my Husband hugged me and remembered how magic you were to me at Disney. Moments after that I got a phone call from my doctor saying that a test had come back abnormal and I’d need to get a biopsy.
I thought of you Shannon, and how you’ve popped into my life again for a reason. Thank you for your friendship. Your strength. Your support. Your inspiration. You soak the life out of every moment. I often forget to do that.
I’m glad you had that moment in Las Vegas. You are in my thoughts and prayers, and always an inspiration. xx