The scariest moment
is when you realize, that even you, may die a lot sooner than you planned unless you step up to fight. Even considering your fight, sometimes the battle is too far gone and this dreadful disease claims another life. As these people succumb to this disease, does the incredible weight of the task present itself yet again.
I have come to accept an absolutely ludicrous amount of strange information over the past year. The most astounding and world altering of that information was without a doubt, “Brad, you have a brain tumour, it is cancerous and it is malignant”. Not exactly the words you want to hear a week after your 24th birthday and two weeks before your December Holiday. Needless to say that changed things, not just for me, but for everyone. I still stand firm in my belief that I got this cancer and tumor for a reason, I was given it to prove something, to create a change in mindset and to live a positive life. More astounding still is that as much as I am scared of this cancer, I still believe it is the best thing to ever happen to me.
I was supposed to fly to London a week later to witness the birth of my niece and Godchild, Isabella Grace Taylor, but if I had boarded that plane and made my way to London, 3 different teams of doctors explained to me that I would have had an aneurysm and died on the flight, and I would not be here writing this new piece of my life. So I have begun to ask myself, what can I do now that I have been afforded this situation?
Over the past year, I have been on an incredibly emotional ride, with highs and lows, pains and broken barriers and through the doors of some of the finest medical institutions on offer, along the way I was told I was fortunate, unfortunate, lucky, rare, and the most meaningful thing I have been called is a fighter. We are all born with this inherent ability to recognize when we are in peril, we summon every ounce of fight within us and in one final display of courage and bravery we stave off this tumultuous beast, so that after the dust has settled, the wounds healed, and abrupt memories of the fight have faded, we walk out the other side with stronger relationships, being a stronger person with a better perspective in life and an understanding on the beautiful differences between us all and how important those differences are.
To remind people of my medical history that prepared me for the biggest fight of my life, here is a list of medical barriers I have endured:
Asthma
Tick bite fever 3 times
Hernia
4 sinus operations
Tonsils removed
Appendectomy
Varicous seal (blocked vein)
Cerebral Malaria
2 broken arms
1 broken collar bone
Pneumonia twice
Bronchitis more times than I care to count
Pleuracy
and the big boy, brain cancer, a pineal cytoma lodged into the 3rd ventricle in the middle of my brain,and that resulted in 3 operations, a biopsy and way too many catheters and MRI’s.
That was all in my past, since my last MRI my girlfriend and I headed North to Europe where we visited Amsterdam, Berlin, Munich, Naples, Capri, Positano, Sorrento, Rome, Siena, Florence, Venice, Athens, Mykonos, Ios, Santorini, Crete and Barcelona. A lot of the time we werent exactly sure where we were, or how we were going to get to the next place. As travelers will know, you have to account for changes in plans and accept pretty fast that sometimes things dont go according to plan. We have had an incredible trip filled with laughter, the occasional fight, and more than anything a willingness to see the things that I wished I could. This trip was not some form of bucket list, but rather a trip to gather perspective on life, and realize that there is a lot more going on out there and if we dont strive to change the way we see the world, the world will never change or we will get left behind. So after touring Europe for 3 months living out of a bag, we are now in London, regrouping for something I have feared about the second we put paper to pen. The one year scan approaches, and it haunts my dreams of late.
I had been pushing this scan to the back of my mind while we were traveling, but as the months rolled by, time gathered momentum to form somewhat of a juggernaut, pushing me and the scan into a collision course at 11:30am, 24th October, 2012. Now my mind obsesses over the appointment and scan, because in one sentence, it holds the power to change my, as well as my loved ones, entire outlook on life once again.
The scan is approaching, and in order to try get a psychological edge over everything, I have been seeing a resident neuro psychologist at the Harley Street Clinic. I have seen her on a number of occasions and we have been working together to ensure that I am ready for any outcome of the scan. But only to be truly ready do you have to truly accept what could ultimately be your fate. I have never accepted death, even though in America I looked into its eyes before my 9 hour operation, and the whole time up until now I realize that cancer is a disease that kills people but I didnt every fully address it until last Friday in the rooms of my neuro-psychologist. She could see I was in disarray, I was experiencing intense headaches, not sleeping, depressed, stressed, tired and lacking confidence. She sat me down and said “Brad, we have to go over best and worst case scenario”. We go over best case scenario and that is the tumor and cancer is inactive, the proliferation rate is low, and you can carry on life as per normal. She then addresses worst case scenario. Instantly my pulse quickens, my hands begin to sweat and become clammy, and a weird sensation occurs. For the first time in over a year, tears start to build up in my eyes, the bubble in my throat expands until it is almost choking me, encouraging me to release the fear and panic. The tears begin to roll out of the corners of my eyes, and in that instant I realize why I am crying. My scariest moment is realizing that I too may die, and that I am crying because I love my life, the people in it, the stuff I have seen, and I, in the past year, have been able to see what life is about. It is about people, all kinds of different people who in some way or another are fighting their own fight. My scenario may be more life and death, but I encourage everyone to take a look and address what they are doing and whether they are doing it for the right reasons with the right people. Because in one sentence your life can change, so make sure it is the life you want to live with the people you want to live it with.
When I slide into that MRI machine on Wednesday morning, my mind hopefully will be under control, my pulse steady and my focus clear. I have been looking after myself mentally and physically, conserving this latest reserve of fight for Wednesday, when the MRI machine begins to work with the contrast that will be flowing in my veins, and lighting up the radiologists screen with an image not of negativity but rather hope and positivity. I hope they see a message of hope, fight and courage on that screen, from a man who never wished this disease on anyone, but has embraced the disease and is determined to make a message of positivity and inspiration. The contrast will begin to heat up as the MRI (magnetic resonance indicator) begins to magnetically pull the charged particles into a position where they are fully able to see every millimeter of my brain and the matter within it.
At the moment my sleeping pattern is non-existant, I wake up in the middle of the night not wanting to die, my day dreams are obscured by flash panics about death and I realise I do not want to die, I do not want this thing to have beaten me. I slowly calm myself down, i gather control once again and go over everything I do know about my cancer. In the end I resort back to the same statement I made the day I was told I had a “blockage” in my brain, whatever it is, however long it has been there, and whatever threat it poses, I will fight this thing once again, with every manageable ounce of energy and commitment.
