Blackout

The summer of 2003, before my senior year in high school, was a fun and exciting period of my life. I had a great job interning with my father, and I spent a lot of time with my friends, but I was hiding a secret. On the outside, I managed to maintain a composed façade. However, on the inside, I was experiencing a tempestuous storm, completely turning my world upside down.
The spring of my junior year I started having “spells” or “blackouts” as I called them. I never remembered them happening, and almost didn’t believe my friends’ imitation of my spells. Typically, the spells would transpire mid-sentence. I would be talking and all of a sudden stare off, and repeat a word over and over for about a minute, and then snap back into reality like nothing ever happened. At first my friends thought I was joking. It was as though something momentarily unplugged in my brain. They started happening more frequently as the semester went. I was embarrassed of my spells and asked my friends not to tell anyone… especially my parents! I didn’t want them worrying and I thought I would just grow out of my cojndition.
The New York City blackout on August 14, 2003 was not the only blackout in the area. My parents attended a wedding the night of the blackout. The following day, we were talking about the wedding, when all of I sudden I found myself on the couch with a cold washcloth on my forehead. My parents had a look of shock and terror in their eyes. My mom started crying. I asked what was wrong, and they told me I had blacked out. Ironically, it was while asking them about the blackout the night before. My secret was out.
I went to my doctor right after the incident and he referred me to a neurologist. As I walked out of the elevator, towards the neurologist’s office, I saw the office number printed on the clear glass door, “240” in bold black letters. Apparently I repeated “240…240…240…” all the way into the office, past the neurologist, and on the table of the EEG (measuring brain waves). That was the longest blackout I had experienced; long enough for the neurologist to see me, and for the electrodes to be attached to my scalp, and record my brain activity. We found out the neurons in my right temporal lobe were misfiring. I was having seizures. I would later learn the term for my seizures were complex partial seizures. My neurologist suggested I had epilepsy, which meant no driving. I was devastated. Of course I was worrying about my car and my parents were worrying about my health and safety. The next step was a routine MRI scheduled for the following Friday, August 22, 2003.
The morning of the MRI I wasn’t nervous at all; I already got the bad news a week earlier, what else could go wrong? After the MRI was finished, my mom, grandma, and I were on our way out the door. A radiologist came running out of the back and asked to speak with my mom. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she told me I had a lesion in my brain. I went numb. I didn’t even know what that meant. We rushed over to the neurologists’ office and my emotions rushed to me all at once as he held up the MRI slides on the light board and said the words “brain tumor”. I fell apart. I already knew my mom was upset and I wanted to be strong for her, but I burst into tears and couldn’t hold them back. I had a flood of questions running through my head. Would I be able to walk; to talk; to go to college? Would I die? My neurologist spoke with confidence that my tumor was benign. He explained that a cyst was attached to the tumor which suggested it was benign. He also mentioned that I would need surgery as soon as possible. We scheduled an appointment later that day with a pediatric neurosurgeon.
We drove back to my house, still in shock, when the song “A Rush of Blood to the Head” by Coldplay came on the radio. I still consider that to be my theme song. We were waiting for my dad to come home from work to meet us before the appointment with the neurosurgeon. I went up to my room and called my best friend to tell her my news. I choked on the words as they came out of my mouth, trying to fight back tears. My friend crashed her car when I told her. As I stood in my room on the phone, not saying much of anything, both of us just crying into the phone, my dad walked in my room. He came over to me, put his arms around me, and we both started crying.
In the waiting room at the neurosurgeons office, my parents and I were greeted by a kind and friendly doctor. He greeted us and shook each of our hands, with a warm smile the entire time. We all took a seat in his office and he glanced over my chart before discussing my tumor. As his eyes scanned the words, he had a smirk on his face and he looked up at my dad, still smiling. He asked my dad the name of the street he lived on as a kid, and before my dad finished the name, my neurosurgeon stopped him and said, “I was your next door neighbor. I used to play with your younger brother.” We were all so relieved to have a familiar face participating in my care. My neurosurgeon pulled some strings and scheduled an emergency surgery for later that afternoon. We didn’t even have a chance to go home; we went straight into the ER before surgery.
For some reason I wasn’t as nervous about the surgery while in the ER. The main thing I was upset about was when my neurosurgeon entered the room with a razor, and told me he would have to shave a tiny section of my hair for the pre-op CT scan. I had long hair at the time, and I loved it. It seems ridiculous to me know that I actually cried a little when he shaved the section. The rest of my time in the ER was a blur. When we were ready to go to the OR, a staff member wheeled me on the gurney down the hallway, and I said by to my parents, everyone in tears except for me. (I think they gave me an anti-anxiety medicine in the IV). I was in the waiting area alone, when the anesthesiologist entered. I remember talking to him about wanting to eat some sushi as soon as I get out of the hospital. The next thing I remember, I woke up, and it looked like I was under water. Everything was blurry, I couldn’t speak straight, and I couldn’t really understand my parents. I was in the recovery room and I never remembered the anesthesiologist giving me the IV.
The next time I woke up I was in the pediatric intensive care unit, and my mom was sleeping in a chair next to my bed. I had a huge bandage on my head, but I was feeling fine besides the nausea. I was out of the hospital Monday morning and at the mall with my mom and best friend on Tuesday to buy headbands. With my hair down, you couldn’t even tell I had surgery. One of the funniest memories I have was when I was at the mall in a clothing store. I asked a sales associate for a pair of jeans and she said, “Oh my gosh, I love your headband! Where did you get it?” When I told her it was gauze because I just had brain surgery, she stepped off her ladder and gave me a big hug.
School began only ten days after my surgery, and I was there for the first day. I met with some of my teachers the day before to let them know what happened, and that I may be in and out for doctor appointments. I was glad to be back at school with all my friends to support me. The second day of school I decided to meet with my guidance counselor about college. I had a complete change of plans after my surgery. Originally, I wanted to go to a business school, and work with my dad. However, after the surgery, I decided I wanted to go to a small liberal arts school and apply to a pre med program. I wrote my college essay about the most influential person in my life… my neurosurgeon. I still joke with my dad that I was going to write my essay about him, but he helped me edit it until it was perfect.
I currently attend Fairfield University in Connecticut. I am going into my senior year, and will be receiving a BS in psychology. I took all of the pre med classes, but there was one class I took my sophomore year that changed my career path. Human neuropsychology is my favorite class. I loved learning about the brain and different disorders. I am currently working on an ongoing research project with my neuropsychology professor, dealing with traumatic brain injury and the residual cognitive and attentional deficits. I am applying to graduate schools specializing in neuropsychology this fall, and I am so excited to start my career.
I didn’t have any real problems following the surgery, and I consider myself extremely lucky. I developed a writing disability, but I have learned to work around it. I still ride horses, snowboard, go to concerts, and enjoy my life as a 21-year-old college student. Do I wish I never had a brain tumor? My answer is NO. I would not change anything about my life. Although it was a rough time for my family and I, the people I met, and the hardships I faced shaped who I am today. My family and friends helped get me through this, and I could not have done it without any of them.