Chapter 8: Are You Happy?
It’s currently noon on Friday, February 7th. I’m not writing this blog post at 4:00 am like usual, so I guess we can confirm that a right partial craniotomy will indeed cure jet lag given enough time. I am now almost 48-hours post-surgery and feeling as well as expected. I feel a bit like I have a cruel hangover but wasn’t allowed to drink any good Chianti to induce it. Life isn’t fair.
My fabulous neurosurgery team at the University of Minnesota told me yesterday that I had a “nice looking brain” which was my favorite compliment of all time. I’ve always thought my brain was my sexiest feature. By 2-3 hours post-op, I was already bugging all of my nurses to let me walk to the bathroom alone and unhook my monitors, so I could start typing this damn blog again. When I made the EKG tech hand me my own EKG around midnight to read the report myself, I think I passed the final test and the team let me break free from the hospital yesterday to rest at home for a few days. I’m now home with family (I can't thank my support team enough during all of this!) while I wait for the brilliant pathologists to read through all those juicy little brain slices the surgeons cut out.
At this point, I have gotten numerous questions from you all about the medical details of what’s going on. I could go into some seriously boring pathophysiology and anatomy regarding this, but since this is the first real “PTO” I’ve had in years, I think let’s not. Here are some medical updates as I like to look at them:
- I am a human. Humans all go through a remarkably similar life cycle. I recently had a conversation with the wise monk mentioned in a previous chapter about this. We discussed that the life cycle of a human consists of four trials: A human is born alone, learns something alone, faces an illness or a challenge alone, and dies alone. I have learned a lot of medicine in my life, people, but this monks’ lesson was the wisest thing I have ever learned.
As a physician, I am obviously a strong believer in evidenced-based medicine and think we should all strive to be advocates for our own health. Exercise, eat a balanced diet, get your vaccinations, take your physician's recommendations seriously, etc. Health does not come for free! However, in this very strange twist of fate, I would like to take some time in the present moment to reflect a bit on the psychological, emotional impacts of health so bear with me.
Oftentimes, in my role as a physician, it is my job give a patient a new diagnosis. No matter the diagnosis, whether “hypertension, “diabetes,” or “cancer” among others, a new diagnosis is always life-changing. A diagnosis is a label of sorts. It will be plastered on a patient’s medical record for the rest of his/her life and will likely bring about fear, questions, concern, and emotional distress.
Sometimes, ironically, a new diagnosis can bring a sense of peace or clarity to a patient. It can answer a question about an unusual symptoms and offer a “label” that actually brings comfort to a patient who may have felt isolated and unheard for months or years. More often than not, however, this new “label” is not felt as such a positive one. The patient changes from “healthy 29-year old female” to “29-year old female with depression” and this comes with its own set of consequences. So, instead of calling myself a “29-year old female with depression and brain cancer of unknown etiology,” I’m going to call myself “Courtney, who has always had a quirky brain.”
I will not spend time worrying about the messy details of pathology, of treatment plans, or of prognosis at this point because 1) Worrying will not change the outcome and 2) There is only one thing I know for sure:
- A human is born alone, learns something alone, faces an illness or a challenge alone, and dies alone. I am currently somewhere along the spectrum between birth and death. I hate to remind you all, but so are you.
- I may have brain cancer, it’s true. I may have a type of brain cancer that can respond to chemotherapy, radiation, surgery, all or none of the above. I don’t know yet, but I also don’t really care. I obviously don’t wish this on anyone, but I could easily outlive a friend or a neighbor who gets in his/her car and dies in a motor vehicle accident tomorrow. Length of life is not a guarantee. Living, learning, dying, these are situations we can count on. Number of days in between is not a given.
- Enjoy today for today. Brain cancer, or simply a bad stroke of luck, is waiting somewhere for all of us. Have a little fun before it gets you, too :)
I want to take a minute to reflect on one other thought today before I’ll have to take my tenth nap. I have never felt true fatigue before now. First, I would like to take us back to a journal entry pre-tumor diagnosis from one of my favorite days in Thailand. I apologize if the change in chronological order is challenging for everyone, but if my brain can do it, I have faith in yours.
Saturday, January 18th, 2020: Chai Lai Orchid Elephant Experience, Chiang Mai, Thailand
Today, I met my first elephant. I have never felt such joy as I felt in this moment. Prior to my arrival in Thailand, I knew without a doubt that I absolutely needed to meet one of these gorgeous, majestic creatures. I tried to take time and do extensive research so that the elephant experience I had would be an ethical one. I landed on Chai Lai Orchid, which does not allow elephant riding and instead offers a unique, personalized full-day jungle tour with elephants located around an hour north of Chiang Mai. After having also attended a weekend at the Elephant Nature Park later in my travels, I would have to recommend Elephant Nature Park as the more authentic, ethical experience of the two. Regardless, both were life-changing adventures for me.
An open-air truck arrived outside of my apartment bright and early on Saturday morning. As we sped down highways and eventually, narrow gravel roads, we eventually arrived to a small, secluded elephant eco-lodge nestled in the jungle around an hour north of Chiang Mai. Stepping off of the truck, I could see smiling elephants all around me. The elephants were not on chains. They were roaming around the sanctuary, eating bananas and bathing themselves in the river. I had never seen anything so beautiful. The full-day tour included opportunities to meet and feed the elephants, bathe them in the river, and hike throughout the jungle with them. Although I should have perhaps been more frightened than I was to be hiking relatively independently next to an enormous herd of elephants, I never once felt fear. These creatures were wise, kind, somehow all-knowing. Perhaps this was a fiction of my imagination and these elephants had actually been through horrible experiences to be “trained” by humans in the past (Again, please watch “Love and Bananas” to learn more about the plight of the Asian elephants), but the elephants I met today actually seemed genuinely happy and free. They often walked up to me, smelled me, stood next to me and gave me wise looks. Perhaps they were trying to tell me something I was not yet ready to hear.
Following the jungle hike, the adventure continued with a river rafting experience. As I sailed down the quiet, peaceful river, I came across a remote hill tribe neighborhood deep in the jungle. A family was sitting on a small, rickety patio next to the edge of the river as I cruised by. The mother smiled at us as her children waved with excitement. I do not know how much English this family spoke, but as our river raft sailed by I was smiling larger than I had perhaps ever smiled, mesmerized by a rare moment of pure pleasure and relaxation. The local woman seemed to notice this and, without clear reason, stood up and asked me as loudly and proudly in English as she could, “Are you happy?”
My only thought was, “I’ve never been happier.”
Fondly,
Courtney
© CB2020