Tag Archives: neuropsychological testing

Ain’t No Stoppin’ Us Now

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The Big ‘C’.

We hear about it all the time filling the airwaves, social media and conversation.  You’d be hard pressed to say that there’s anyone out there whose life hasn’t been touched by it.  My own family has been affected by cancer – as I mentioned before on this blog, my mother is a breast cancer survivor and the strongest woman who I have ever met – she even managed to raise me!

When I received my brain tumor diagnosis, the one blessing bestowed upon me was that the doctors thought it was likely benign.  A malignant tumor would have presented so many more challenges than I was already facing.

Just as with any type of cancer, brain cancer is awful.  There’s no denying that fact.  I thought maybe it was just me, but it seems to be a common thread among benign brain tumor patients to feel a sense of guilt in opening up about their struggles due to our benign status.  Trust me, we are grateful and while we do consider it a stroke of great luck to not have encountered the big ‘C’ in our journeys, our benign tumors have presented us with unique challenges which we will deal with for the rest of our lives.

This past Saturday, I met up with three truly remarkable, inspirational people from right here in Connecticut who have gone down the same path I have – Rob, Aisha and Julia.  All three were diagnosed with benign brain tumors.  As we sat around the table for coffee, sharing our stories, I felt the connection of togetherness and pride in that while we may each have undergone a traumatic experience, we are still here and able to share our stories.   The scars on our heads cannot take away our ability to live and sometimes even important, to laugh.

This meeting was something I had wanted to do for a while, to reach out and talk with others in the same situation like I am.  Now, I do not want to take anything away from anyone with brain cancer, or any other form of cancer – I hate the thought of it.  But hear me out.

Being diagnosed with a benign brain tumor and having it removed is not the end of the struggles, unfortunately.  If you been following my story, you know my continued struggles and the additional surgeries and procedures that were needed.  However, I am very fortunate in the grand scheme of things – something which I have known for quite some time, but which I sometimes forget to appreciate.  The four of us each had to fight to regain our livelihoods, which included intensive rehabilitation and requiring us to put our lives on hold.

Pre-brain tumor, Rob created a very successful life for himself.  He spent years in the music industry, working as the tour agent for musicians including Britney Spears, the Backstreet Boys, Justin Timberlake, Mary J. Blige and most recently, the Jonas Brothers.  Unfortunately though, in November 2012, Rob’s life changed forever when he was diagnosed with a brain tumor on his brain stem and spent nearly 200 consecutive days in various hospitals.  During that time, he underwent 9 surgeries and countless hours of rehab.  He developed hydrocephalus and now lives with a shunt.  He still experiences double vision and is restricted to driving during the day.  However, Rob is full of hope and is an inspiration to me and everyone around him.  I have been in Rob’s company on several occasions now, and despite his challenges, not once have I heard him complain about his life or feel sorrow for himself.  His doctors will continue to monitor the remaining tumor that is left on his brain stem and his hydrocephalus is under control with the shunt.

Aisha, whom I’ve previously mentioned on this blog, was diagnosed with the same type of tumor as me – a central neurocytoma.  Ironically enough, she grew up and lives in North Haven, CT, the same town that I grew up in and come to find out, in very close proximity to where I used to live.  Like me, she was treated at Yale-New Haven Hospital and her prognosis is good.  Aisha is a spirited and hysterical individual with a tremendous outlook.  She shared a story with us of how she applied for a teaching job at the University of Bridgeport and was called for an interview while in the hospital.   Determined, she asked if she could interview via Skype.  While she did not Skype with them, she did end up going for an interview five months later when she was home and recovered, and was the successful candidate for the search.  Despite her fortunes, Aisha is left with paralysis on her right side, requiring a cane to enable her to walk.  There’s no stopping her though – she doesn’t let her challenges bring her down.  She truly lights up any room with her positivity.

Julia reached out to the CTBTA seeking to volunteer and help our organization – not to mention, she is full of wonderful ideas!  A phenomenal personality and pleasure to meet with, I knew she was committed to this cause from the moment we exchanged our hellos.   Before her diagnosis, Julia was experiencing headaches and loss of smell, which she believed to be a sinus issue.  Unfortunately, she was diagnosed with a meningioma and underwent a craniotomy and then again surgery for a CSF leak and infection she developed.  Julia has since lost her sense of smell and can only taste certain things, but certainly has not lost her sense of humor!  During our meeting, she asked the rest of the group about our screws.  Yes, screws.  Julia pointed to a spot at the top of her forehead and another one above her right eye where the doctors inserted screws to place her skull back in.  When I reached out for her consent to share her story with you, she referred to herself as “part bride of Frankenstein, nuts and bolts and all!”  Despite her sense of humor however, she expressed frustrations with her memory and fears of neuropsych testing, all while waiting for a decision on her disability.  Yet, in the eyes of a seven-year survivor, for someone who is only seven months out, I think she’s doing remarkably well!

I think the four of us would all agree that joining together and sharing our stories – the pain, the struggles, and believe it or not, the belly-hurting laughs, was a great experience.  There’s just something about the camaraderie felt between those sharing similar experiences that is therapeutic.

So yes, while a cancerous tumor certainly is not the same as a benign tumor, tumors are tumors and they each present their challenges and obstacles.  It is my hope, at least, that together we will bring all brain tumors to the forefront – both cancerous and benign.

Because after all, grey matters.

Don’t Worry Be Happy

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Triumphantly, I made my return to the office last week.  Yes, three-and-a-half weeks removed from brain surgery, I went in.  photo 1I was eager and motivated to do something – better yet, anything other than sit at home and channel surf.  I was well rested and feeling great and had recently received medical clearance from my doctors to return on a part-time basis for a couple of weeks.  But what would I feel like after a 20-hour work week when I had done literally nothing for the past four weeks?  Over time, the answer to this question became clear.

Initially, I was overcome by emotion but also very excited to see my coworkers and peers.  Making the rounds and saying hello to everyone, I felt like an exhibit – “where are your stitches?” and “what are you doing here?” were the common questions.  Perhaps this is my “new normal” but unlike others, I expected to be back that quickly.  My surgeon had predicted I would be out for 3-4 weeks at most and I know how my body recovers and heals.  So when I woke up after surgery with no unexpected side effects, I fully expected to be back to work in no time at all.  Of course though, in a matter of three-and-a-half weeks, over 600 emails had piled up and I needed to sort through them.

Per my doctor’s orders, I was to work no more than 4 hours per day, even though I think I could have done more if I wanted to.  Nonetheless though, I went in and picked up my job tasks right where they had left off before my leave of absence.  Two months before I left, I assumed a new position – Associate Administrator – Marketing and External Affairs.  I decided it was time to step away from my pursuit of the practice of law and instead refocus my efforts in a position to which I felt I could make a career.

I’ll be the first to admit – nobody in the office is more upset than I that I am not an attorney after working so hard for it and putting in the time – but, I came to the realization a while ago that right now, being an attorney is not in the cards for me and just simply not meant to be.  Sure, I was disappointed and frustrated.  I took out student loans equivalent to a second mortgage on law school and was in desperate need of a way in which to repay them.  Furthermore, I had devoted time and money into passing the bar exam three times.  Each time, it was the same result and same old adage – close, but no cigar.  I needed a new goal – something tangible which I knew I could achieve and excel in.  Alas, this opportunity presented itself and I jumped.  I understand the inherent risks in that I am now on a different path than my peers who graduated at or near the same time that I did.  I will watch them as they grow through the ranks of a law firm and make more money than I ever may.  However, at the end of the day, one word assured me of this decision – happiness.

When I think about how I got to this point in my life, I think back on a number of things, namely those who doubted my ability to pass the bar exam due to my cognitive impairments: the neuropsychological evaluator; my law school professors who admired my courage for carrying on; my surgeon’s own admission; my law school dean; my bar exam tutor.  Admittedly, they were all correct.  Yet, my family never once doubted any of my decisions as I moved forward in my life.  Rather, they continually support my daily decisions.  For this, I am forever grateful.

I can’t worry about my future and what successes I’ll find.  While I may not have reached my goal of becoming an attorney, I know success will come because I’ve survived the toughest obstacle of all.  The bar exam may have beaten me down, but my tumor showed me I have what it takes; tenacity, perseverance and the strength to carry on.  I must keep plugging away, fighting adversity and rising to the occasion.  It’s true when they tell you that life isn’t easy.  Take it from me – it’s not.  As the song lyrics go: “In every life we have some trouble.  When you worry you make it double.  Don’t worry, be happy. “

Hey Pretty Lady Won’t You Give Me A Sign?

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The summer was moving right along and the days were creeping closer to my 2L year.  The date was now August 15, 2008 – exactly one month after being sent home. Yet, at the recommendation of my neurosurgeon, I was sent back to Yale for neuropsychological testing.

While I have never told anyone this before, the entire process of neuropsych testing was my lowest point.  Law school exams had suddenly felt easy – the stakes now were far too high and I was terrified the entire day.  And while I was unable to appreciate at that time the significance of what the testing meant, I somehow knew it was a major point in my recovery if I wanted to resume the life I knew and get back to school in a few weeks – because I was going back.  Maybe I was naïve or I was just stubborn, but I somehow believed this was not just a fleeting thought.

So, what is neuropsych testing?  As defined by the Yale Medical Group, neuropsychology is a “clinical service that provides in-depth evaluations of various brain functions including attention, impulse control, problem solving, memory, language, visual perception, sensory-motor skills, intelligence and emotions.” The entire process is designed to test mental ability and I was being tested to see “where” I was on a cognitive scale.

After the initial introductions and the ice broken, my parents got up and left me…alone….and helpless. I felt like a dog being left behind in a kennel – “please, no – don’t leave me here!”  Well, I reasoned that the sooner he can examine me and I can get this over with, I can go home and daydream some more.

The questions came fast…and furious.   It’s insane though – as he was asking me the questions, I heard every word asked and understood what he was saying, but could not establish the connection between the question and my response.  That was the entire problem and what the doctors were afraid I had permanently lost.  I gave my best effort to answer, but my speech was slow.  The report noted that it was “effortful” and further that my responses contained paraphasic errors.  Throughout the morning, the doctor and his assistant would read an entire page of text to me and then proceed to ask me questions about it, such as “what was the theme?” or “can you repeat the sentence I just read to you?”

I gathered myself for a moment, tried real hard to respond but could not get the words I was searching for out of my mouth.  Once again, I felt like a complete failure.  I loved the timed questions though.  I recall one series where I was told a word and I was asked to provide a word that is similar.  Yes, this is something you likely practiced in third grade, but today, my goal was to practice synonyms.

During my lunch break that day, I was so distraught and upset with myself, and the person I had become.  I called home and just cried to my family.  The sound of concern in my parents’ voice was palpable and I instantly knew that their worst nightmare had come true – I was not doing well and the doctors’ fears were being confirmed.  Nonetheless, being unable to be there and provide a smile and a pat on the back, they consoled me and encouraged me to go back in there and do my best, just as I had always done.  And with that, I returned to the testing area for the remainder of the afternoon.  But today – and possibly forever more – my best was not good enough.

I later learned that after my phone call, my parents had a life-changing experience whereby they knew everything was going to be alright for me.

Do you believe in fate, destiny, do you believe that things happen for a reason, do you pray when things get difficult, do you believe in God?  I do.

After we dropped Chris off, we could do nothing other then think about the testing and the latest chapter of his ordeal.  The word aphasia was always whispered, and now the fear was that the diagnosis was going to be official.  After Chris called that afternoon and cried through his lunch break, Karen and I became extremely emotional and sad and cried for him.  At that moment, our son Stephen came home from his high school football workout and said he was starving.  I composed myself and decided to light the gas grill and cook him some lunch.  While cooking, I began to pray.  I prayed for a miracle…I prayed that Chris would be okay…I prayed that God would give me this cross to bear and take it off of Chris’ shoulders…I prayed for a sign that he was going to be okay.

Moments later, I heard a slight flutter in my right ear.  Glancing to the right, I saw that a ladybug had landed on my shoulder and was just sitting there.  If you believe like I do, she was my sign.  That ladybug sat on my shoulder from 12:45 until I got into the car to pick up Chris at 3:30.  As I got into the car I “released” her and as she flew off, I had an overwhelming feeling of confidence and peace.  In my soul at that moment I knew he was going to be okay.

Back to the testing room, as the sun began to set, the responses to the questions were not coming any easier to me and I was still struggling, if not performing worse.  I had just let myself down when I had the opportunity to shine and prove everyone wrong.  But I guess everyone else was right.

The report notes that “the nature of his language deficits (e.g. non-fluent spontaneous speech, word finding difficulties, poor confrontational naming, impaired oral and written expression) in the context of relatively preserved oral and written comprehension and intact sentence repetition abilities is consistent with the syndrome of a non-fluent, transcortical motor aphasia.”  And there it was – everyone’s worst fears right on paper.  Widely suspected but not confirmed until today, I had aphasia (a condition affecting brain injury and stroke patients’ ability to use or understand words).

How would I get through this and where do I go from here?  The ride home felt like an eternity and I had never felt so defeated before in my life.  How did this all happen to me?

A few days later, a copy of the report was provided and my parents broke the news to me…Untitled

…I was not going back to law school.