Introducing...my rebel brain

Photo Credit:Brian Smyer

In the past, I approached each challenge with a furious optimism that I would be able to overcome it.  A certain arrogance that I was strong enough to outwit any obstacle that was thrown at me.I look back at my 41 year-old self and would love to pat her on the head and laugh. If only I'd known what was going to come my way. Maybe it's a good thing that I didn't. I'm not sure who would willingly sign up for this. Which reminds me of a conversation with someone who believes that before we're brought into the physical world we volunteer and sign a contract for the struggles we will face in our lives. If that's true, I have some serious questions for my spirit and the contract holder. I mean, come on. What was I thinking?
Seriously though, I've learned more about the human brain in the last 7 years than anyone without a medical degree should ever want to know. It's been quite the emotional rollercoaster.
 I was diagnosed in 2012 with Hydrocephalus after waking up one day unable to walk or put a sentence together. I'd had some hints that something wasn't right for months leading up to this but as is typical for most, I just powered through. Took the anti-anxiety meds for the unbearable anxiety stalking me, the blood pressure meds for an unexplained spike of my blood pressure, and ibuprofen for a headache that I just couldn't shake. It was the beginning of a journey that I never imagined. After a 4 day stint in the hospital with a diagnosis of Hydrocephalus, it was a whirlwind of CTs, MRIs, Occupational and Speech Therapy, applying for short term disability, informing my job that I may not return and adjusting to a life I didn't fully comprehend. Everything was exhausting. The basic daily things were difficult, if not impossible. And the pain...the most incredible vice grip pain in my head that never relented. As things progressed, the pain was accompanied by sharp stabbing pains through my brain that would bring me to my knees. I lived with no further answers and slowly deteriorated over the next year, eventually becoming bed bound and being pushed in a wheelchair for doctors appointments or the few social events I attended. My short-term disability became long term. I signed POA to others as I was no longer able to think clearly or make my own decisions. I was facing my demise and no longer had enough energy to even grasp the magnitude of it.