My twitching arms were actually a symptom of a brain tumor

By | January 22, 2022

It’s been a stunning October morning in Long Island, New York. The alarm went off, because it was on regularly at 6:45 in the morning. I became a preschool coach at age 24 coaching a man or a woman after months of going online due to the pandemic. There is a sense of returning to normal life again, regardless of carrying masks and social distancing. The international community is now seeing moderation in abandoning the tunnel. I reached my arms through my frame to silence the alarm and my arms became so heavy that I hit myself inside my face. I quickly discovered that I couldn’t feel my arm, but I didn’t feel too anxious. Maybe I slept on it incorrectly.

I stumbled off the bed and tried to brush my teeth, but my arms became numb. “Well,” I remember thinking, “…that’s a strange piece.” I quickly grabbed my things and walked out the door. My arms remained numb and tingly for the rest of the day, and now no longer just relaxing that day, for the weeks that might quickly follow.

I’ll admit – I have hypochondria. I’m considered a “Google employee”. I diagnose myself all the time on WebMd and different comparable sites. I didn’t tell my kinship circle of numbness due to the fact that I didn’t need them to suppose I had become spiraling–but again–into a deep rabbit hole of self-diagnoses.

It wasn’t until sometime in November that I got extra worried about what was going on. I started losing things all day at work. Everything slipped out of my grasp. Then after I got home, I started to blink – it was like I had glass balls in my mouth. This scared me.

Known at once as Dad and Mom who were similarly interested, they made an appointment with a neurologist as quickly as his schedule had to match.

When my appointment came, I was pretty sure everything would be fine. I’m imagining myself going home with a super easy fitness bill and hearing back from my buddies and my circle of relatives who “simply want to relax”.

After explaining my references to the doctor, he didn’t make a specific challenge, but did mention he might charge me for an MRI of the brain, “to err in the face of caution.”
Entering to check my mind, it became frightening to see the huge white tunnel placed within the center of the stark room. After lying on the bottom of the system, my head is secured with foam pegs that are snugly placed in the cage so I don’t move. Slowly, they moved the system down the back. Feeling myself starting to panic, I gradually took deep breaths and reminded myself that this would all be over quickly. What I didn’t recognize, this turned out to be as simple as my first MRI of many. After about forty-five minutes, I was removed from the system.

I left the workplace and went on my way, easier to meet by ringing my smartphone on the phone later that Friday night. became my doctor. He outlined how he identified a small tumor, also called cavernous hemangioma (CCM) in my mind. Cavernous hemangiomas are identified in 0.5% of the population and are almost always benign. I became, unfortunately, part of the 40% of people who enjoy the nervous signs, as I developed a hemorrhage, which caused inflammation in my mind. I didn’t really care what he said after that. My head was spinning, my ears were ringing, and I was sweating completely.

I asked, “So, what now?” He replied that we might keep it for disclosure. He advised me that these tumors can bleed as soon as possible and in no case can they bleed again. He professed to remain in existence as I usually do and now almost no longer assume much of this. How did I pretend to do that?

Fast ahead to April. I skilled the worst migraine of my existence–and I’ve had many. It become the midnight while it struck, waking me up from a useless sleep. The piercing ache pounded in my head. I notion I become going to die. I knew in that second that the tumor become bleeding. I texted my physician who advised me to, “attempt Tylenol.” But Tylenol wasn’t slicing it. I desired answers.

After calling in unwell to work. I known as my physician withinside the morning and demanded some other MRI. I’m now no longer commonly the competitive type, however I knew some thing become virtually wrong. He agreed, and lower back withinside the system I went.

Sure enough, I become proper. Scans confirmed that now no longer simplest had it bled once more, however my tumor had doubled in size. At this point, I found out I had to take topics into my very own hands.

I spent my nights learning my condition. After knowing that surgical treatment become a excellent possibility, I consulted with some neurosurgeons earlier than in the end selecting Dr. Philip Stieg at Weill Cornell in New York.

At this point, whilst my CCM become now no longer actively bleeding, there has been substantial staining to the tissue withinside the surrounding area. The possibilities of the tumor bleeding once more have been high, thinking about it had already bled two times in a brief span of time. As Dr. Stieg placed it, my CCM, “might simplest retain to grow.” Adding that if I have been his daughter, he might have it eliminated.

I booked my surgical treatment the day I met Dr. Stieg–a testomony to now no longer simplest what an brilliant health care professional he is, however how calm and at peace he made me sense. I made the choice proper there in his workplace, that I become going to deal with this example with positivity. There become no different option. Sure, I ought to sulk and cry approximately it, however that wouldn’t get me anywhere.

On July 7, 2021, I went in for my craniotomy. Due to COVID, simplest one man or woman become allowed withinside the health center with me. So I stated good-bye to my mother and sister withinside the car parking zone and made my manner into the constructing with my dad. After spending a while withinside the pre-op area, I become taken for one extra MRI. I become nearly there: The give up of the street become in sight.

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