A Mixed Bag: Lessons From a Deadly Brain Tumour
“That’s bad right?...”
“not necessarily…”
The above words were exchanged between me and the MRI technician the moment I was informed midway through a precautionary MRI (for what I now know, was unrelated headaches), that they unexpectedly needed to inject me with a contrast dye in order to get a better picture of my brain. This short conversation set the stage for the most challenging part of my life. I was diagnosed with a low-grade astrocytoma. A brain tumour that inevitably mutates into deadly cancer. Even after surgical removal, small undetectable parts often have infiltrated the brain like mould on a loaf of bread, and will almost always return. Even with treatment, the average 10-year survival rate of this disease is estimated to be about 50%. and an overall survival rate of 20%. I was 25 years old.
However within this moment of bad fortune, almost everything surrounding and following the initial diagnosis has been extremely lucky. My surgeon informed me that it was in the best possible location. I had caught it many years before I would have likely showed symptoms (and by then would have been almost certainly too late to avoid an early death). I was also a great candidate to a modern procedure which massively reduces the chance of it forming again. After a successful surgery, a genetic analysis of the tumour showed a favourable mutation subtype. It has been three years post-surgery with no recurrence, no side effects (besides a partially paralysed eyebrow and a cool scar). While not completely out of the woods, my chance of one day looking at the mirror and seeing an old man staring back has dramatically increased.
This enormous confrontation with my own fragile mortality caused me to think, a lot. An ex-girlfriend pointed out that I “have a bi-weekly existential crisis”. But the years of stress and a ton of therapy has led me to come out the other side with a couple of personal lessons.
Always Look To Ask Better Questions.
“How long will I live?”
“Why did this happen to me? Why is life so cruel?”
“How rare is this? Just how unfortunate am I?”
“What will happen to me after I die?”
These were the initial questions that swirled around my head in the months after my initial diagnosis and surgery. These questions led me to the following: Anxiously combing through page after page of research studying my condition. Bitterness and envy when someone would complain about minor inconveniences. Sadness and self-pity looking at young happy families, and believing I’d never have my own. These questions, while valid, mostly brought me negative emotions. Eventually the frustrations and anxieties of these questions forced me on the path to ask better questions:
“How do I want to live the rest of my life, however short it is?”
“What is the meaning of life in general?”
“How can I reduce the suffering in the world?”
“What does it mean to be happy?”
These questions are complex, subjective, actionable, and come with a certain acceptance and peace. I know for certain that as time goes by my answer to these questions will change, and I will develop new ones, but damn I feel much better for asking them.
Life Was Not Meant To Be Lived Alone.
Developing deep and loving connections with those around you will do more for your wellbeing and happiness than anything else. In our darker moments its always tempting to isolate yourself from everyone, this isolation can be driven by multiple feelings: Arrogance, jealousy, insecurity, anger, sadness, self-hatred, pettiness, embarrassment. No matter how tempting and comforting it can seem to go through life alone, and how painful it can be to open yourself up, it is always better with the help of other people. People like your family, friends, partners, workmates, professional services and sometimes even complete strangers. Yes, sometimes these people will irritate you, sometimes they will downright hurt you, and don’t dare expect that anybody will ever fully understand you. Despite this, it’s definitely worth it to open yourself to others. If I didn’t have the help and support of my community (especially my brain surgeon) I’d be dead, or worse.
There Are No Happy Endings, And That’s Comforting.
Dying is kinda terrifying. It could be argued that our anxiety of death is the core motivator in life. We are so afraid of this that we often take the ostrich approach: We bury our head in the sand, or we push it so far into the future that it feels like it will happen to somebody else. The reality is, you are going to die, and it will likely involve some serious suffering. The person that eventually goes through this experience is the person reading this right now. Pretty scary stuff right? For me this became an immediate reality that I woke up to every day. Before every follow-up MRI came weeks of anxiety, minor panic attacks, phantom symptoms and emotional exhaustion. I’d bargain with myself, creating hypothetical percentage chances if it came back or not. I’d think about all the potential things that I’ve done to cause it to come back (that big drunk birthday party definitely caused enough neurotoxicity that I’ve doomed myself!!!!). Now I try to remind myself that even if I avoid dying from the tumour, some other uncomfortable fate inevitably awaited me down the line. I cannot deny that I will die at some point. I’ll have little choice of when and how that happens. It’s going to suck. With accepting that, I now just have to worry about how I live my life every day until that moment.
The Obstacle Is The Way
Life is really hard. The challenges we all face often feel confusing, downright unfair and even insurmountable. When we experience an event or series of events that are especially painful or challenging it can feel like it is only happening to you. It’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking that once this current rough patch is over that it’ll be smooth sailing from now on. Looking at my own experiences, the smooth sailing is the exception. There is always an unexpected challenge, some pain or some uncomfortable task that needs to be done. When you have the mindset of feeling that this challenge is the only way it could be, that you either need to learn to live with it or overcome it, ironically everything feels less crushing. As an added bonus, those brief moments of smooth sailing feel even sweeter.
It’s Easy To Forget All Of This
“Wow, everyday after that must feel like a gift for you”
“Yeah, I guess so?...”
Objectively speaking, I am one of the luckiest people that has ever lived:
- I live in the modern world, in a wonderful, stable country.
- My parents and family were always loving and a great example of a healthy relationship
- I wasn’t born with any disabilities or deformities
- This tumour wasn’t the only close call that I’ve managed to duck and weave out of by fortunate coincidence.
- I get to make a good living with a job that I enjoy and brings intrinsic meaning to me.
I constantly forget this. You would think that having such a stark reminder of how precious my life is would automatically have me springing out of bed everyday, filled with the sheer exuberance of existence. In reality, I have spent a lot of the last three years struggling with anxiety and depression symptoms regarding my own existence. Mental wellbeing is a practice that requires attention everyday, similar to pruning and maintaining a garden. Even though I’ve experienced a powerful existential experience, living well requires everyday practice and as mentioned earlier, a lot of help and support.
Conclusion
You may have read this and thought that “Yes everyone knows that, these points are all quite obvious, and this article isn’t actually saying anything profound, unique or clever.” You’re probably right saying that. There have been countless individuals before me who are much smarter, vastly more experienced, have overcome greater life challenges and are much more eloquent in explaining everything I’ve said. But there is a big difference between being told about wisdom and having subjective and deep experience. You either already have, are currently, or will eventually experience some extreme difficulties in life. I can only hope that me talking about working through my own challenge might make it slightly easier for you, and in turn I hope you can share your own lessons from your own challenges.
