October 6th 2024.
When I first heard the words "Germinoma of the third ventricle," I couldn't help but wonder what that even meant. A doctor had pointed to a section of my brain scan, showing a large grey mass. It was brain cancer. Despite the gravity of the situation, I felt numb. I couldn't process what was happening.
It all started in 2014 when my memory began to fail me. My manager used to call me an elephant because I could remember everything, but soon I was forgetting even the simplest tasks. On top of that, I started experiencing hallucinations out of nowhere. I would be walking with friends and suddenly the street would be empty in front of me. It was like my brain was playing tricks on me.
These symptoms led me to see my GP, who indicated that I had a brain related issue. However, the words "cancer" or "tumour" were never mentioned. Within a week, I was scheduled for an MRI and then immediately sent to see a specialist. That's when I saw the scan of my brain, with the large grey mass clearly visible.
My tumour was a germinoma, a form of cancer that starts in germ cells and can cause tumours in different parts of the body. In my case, it was in the third ventricle of my brain, growing against my hypothalamus, the part responsible for working memory. As terrifying as this was, I was quickly told that this particular tumour is highly receptive to treatment and the chances of success were high.
But due to its location, surgery was not an option. Instead, I underwent three rounds of chemotherapy and one month of radiation therapy. It was a difficult time, and my life was put on hold. But thankfully, the treatment was successful, and I was cancer-free after 18 months.
However, life after brain cancer was far from easy. I felt like I was missing out on so much. I had to stop working, and I missed the feeling of accomplishment and the relationships I had built with my clients. I also missed out on social gatherings with friends, and my personal relationships suffered as well.
Even after my treatment, I struggled to re-enter the workforce. I was unsuccessful in 14 attempts, and I never mentioned my brain cancer during interviews, afraid that it would impact my chances. In four of those workplaces, I was employed for only one day before they realized something was wrong with my memory.
Not only did my work prospects suffer, but my personal relationships did as well. My circle of friends drastically diminished as my memory issues became more apparent. I found myself feeling anxious and nervous about social gatherings, fearing that I would repeat myself or forget important details.
Despite the common suggestion to "write it down," I was already doing so. In fact, I had become extremely organized, with folders and documents for every day, week, and month. But even with all my notes and reminders, it was impossible to write everything down.
It took me a long time to accept that I would always have a damaged short-term memory. But that didn't mean I couldn't have a good life. That's why I decided to write a book, Memory Fail, to share my cancer journey and show other brain cancer patients that they are not alone.
I also hope that my book will provide a deeper understanding of the impacts of brain cancer to friends, family, and caregivers. Because even though it may not be visible, brain cancer affects many people every year. We need more understanding and support.
If you had a broken leg, no one would tell you to walk faster. So why should a brain cancer patient be told to stop being forgetful? It's time to raise awareness and show compassion towards those who are struggling with this invisible illness.
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