Lumpy Brain Stuff
I see a lot of people wearing little bracelets for health and social causes. With the exception of the yellow Lance Armstrong foundation cancer bracelets and pink bracelets for breast cancer, I have no idea what any of the bracelets mean. You need a bracelet with a hundred colors and their causes to decipher them. It's not that I have issues with the things--I just never know what the bracelets stand for.
My Mom recently ordered a small handful of bracelets from the Pituitary Network Association. I didn't plan on wearing one, but with my mom and darthcynthia wearing one, I figured--since I'm the one with the tumor--I may as well wear one, too. The thing I like about the PNA bracelet is the Web address is very prominent, and people see it. It's advertising for a group trying to raise awareness of something that's not at all uncommon.
There were times in the early 90s when I felt horrible. Doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. I thought maybe I had mono or something else weird and lasting...
One day while chatting with mfelps around that time about the way I felt, he jokingly said, "Wouldn't it be funny if you had a brain tumor? Not like a kill ya brain tumor, but one of those brain tumors that make you laugh and stuff at really inappropriate times."
The thought had definitely crossed my mind...
* * *
I found out I had a big ol' pituitary tumor on February 18, 2004. While recently reading some old journals from 2001, I came across this:
12/21/01
I don't know what's wrong with me. It's like I'll be fine, then BOOM....my whole body feels weird and I get dizzy for a few seconds. It's like there's something moving in my brain. I have a headache and I'm pissy and I just wanna cry for no reason at all.
I feel like the whole world's mad at me for some reason and no one will tell me why.
* * *
darthcynthia is the only person to see me at my head-punching worst. Reading through the journal entries from 2001 to after I was diagnosed, it's just sickening stuff. I didn't know what was going on inside me--I only knew I felt wrong. Nobody could tell me why, though.
Most doctors don't think about pituitary tumors.
* * *
In January of this year when I found out the tumor was worse than ever, I kinda lost it, but did my best to hide the feelings. I felt so bad for Cynthia, but we at least knew what was up this time around. Even still, I have my moments, but nothing like before I knew what was wrong.
I recently wrote an article I want to pitch to some health magazines. While the kind of tumor I have occurs in 14 out of 100,000 people, 1 in 5 people have some kind of pituitary tumor. I have about 35 people on my friends list. Odds are, seven of us have pituitary tumors.
While working on the article, I read the letters Charles Whitman--the University of Austin clock tower killer--left behind. The feelings hit home. Whitman thought about killing himself so he wouldn't kill others (course we know how that story ends). When an autopsy was performed, a brain tumor in the pituitary region was discovered.
Reading through my old journals, I found a long entry about suicidal thoughts I had around the time the tumor was discovered:
I sometimes think I need to stop myself before I stop others. It feels like there’s something eating my brain. It’s like something's eating the parts of my brain I need, and leaving only rage and dark holes behind.
Sometimes I feel like it’s all gonna end soon, and not be pretty.
I hope someday I can read this and think, “Man, who was writing that crap...it sure the hell wasn’t me!”
Or maybe someone will read it and say, “Well, it at least explains why he went out like that...”
I hang onto a thread of hope that gets thinner each day. I don’t think the thread can get any thinner...maybe there's some stretch left, but soon it’s gonna snap.
And I kinda like that thought...
* * *
Those who know me know I'm a pretty peaceful guy. I don't hurt people--I've never even been in an all-out fight. I love animals. I don't eat anything that comes from an animal for ethical reasons; my shoes and my wallet aren't even leather. I would never harm an animal. But for a moment, I must have thought about it.
In another entry, a neighbor's dog must have been barking because I wrote about wanting to set it on fire.
* * *
I'm doing much better this go around with treatment. I'd still like to get testosterone levels back up, but the other hormone out of balance is coming down near vaguely acceptable levels. Whether it's knowing what causes the feelings or something else--even on bad days--they are better than "good days" the first time around.
I never really realized how bad things really were three years ago.
At least now when I read that line from an old journal,“Man, who was writing that crap...it sure the hell wasn’t me!” I know the answer.
It was me, but at least now I know why I wrote it and will never write something like that again.
It's amazing how knowing what's wrong can help you cope...