by Jim Thomason

Created on: January 20, 2009

I was sitting behind the wheel of my truck, key in hand, and I could not remember how to start the engine. I fiddled with the volume control on the radio. Nothing happened. I twisted the knob on my turn signal expecting the engine to roar to life but all I heard was an empty click. My mind turned to the cool sliver of metal in my hand and I watched, transfixed, as it slid into the matching slot on the steering column. I twisted the key, engaged the motor, and climbed out of the fog.

An MRI revealed an Acoustic Neuroma, a benign brain tumor. The doctor explained the tumor was responsible for my occasional "brain fog", clumsy gait, hearing loss, and unsteady balance. The tumor was of medium size and could be treated with gamma knife surgery should it continue to grow. For the time being, we would take a wait-and see approach and that was fine with me.

Sometimes, as I lay in bed at night listening to the trill of the Whip-poor-will perched in the stately Magnolia outside my bedroom, I am seized by the horror of a deadly mass invading my brain, imaginary tentacles boring through the grey matter of my essence. The symptoms you get use to, it is the not knowing that worries the soul.

Sad eyes are difficult to deal with; soft, misty eyes full of sympathy and misunderstanding. Family and friends speak to you as if you were a child, or mentally deficient, and sometimes you want to shake them, let them know that despite the growth, you are still there, fully functioning, as alert as ever. And then you stow the can goods in the freezer while putting away the groceries and you see yourself through their eyes.

Education is an important coping mechanism for dealing with brain tumors. Reliable information helps dispel common myths associated with this misunderstood condition. Your doctor should be a primary source of information but there is a wealth of research available over the internet.

Humor is a medicine best taken in large doses. The day the doctor told me I had a brain tumor I had to slow down for road construction as I made the slow trek home. A sewage line had burst and I slowed down to avoid skidding as the road in front of me was covered by several inches of water. My air conditioner was busted and I had the driver's side window completely rolled down. My thoughts were on the diagnosis and I failed to notice the van coming toward me at full speed. As it passed, a wall of putrid water rose up and spilled through my open window washing me with water flushed from countless toilets. I had to laugh. Life has a way of reminding us that things can be worse.

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