In the three or four weeks that followed, I had a lot of time to reflect, and a lot of time to speak with friends. I had come to terms quickly with what was happening to me, and more importantly, the operation I was about to undergo. I had good days and bad days...the headaches increased in frequency, and in intensity, but I learned to manage them, and got better at foreseeing them. If I put myself to bed at the first sign of trouble, I could generally side-step the bulk of them. Not always though. The headaches were a timely, and completely unnecessary reminder of what was to come. They signalled the magnitude of what was happening inside my head, and the fragility of the tissues the tumour interfered with. Having done my research, I was painfully aware of the potential pitfalls: epilepsy and stroke, but to name a couple. I tried not to dwell on the side-effects. I wanted to focus on the main-effect - getting my life back. I spent a lot of my time thinking about the future. I won't lie and say that on occasion, my thoughts weren't dark...they were. I was however, fortunate to be able to focus mainly on the more positive aspects of my future. What possibilities lay ahead? What would my release from this dungeon of frustration allow me to do? Could I change my career path? I mused about business ideas with friends...this wasn't an area I had really thought about before, but considering them felt liberating. I was in good spirits, and knew that if I could keep this going, my recovery would be massively assisted.
One afternoon, and friend of mine who is a GP asked to pop round. She had thought about my diagnosis, and clearly tried to put herself in my own GP's shoes. She was aware that my diagnosis should have produced certain visible symptoms, and was keen to see if she could spot them. Apparently, many brain tumours are brought to the attention of the sufferer during eye examinations by opticians. I had never had problems with my eyesight, and hadn't had cause to visit one (although interestingly, it had been on my to do list when I started suffering headaches). My friend sat me down in a darkened room and produced an instrument to look into my eyes. She did this for some time without success. She told me that with the increased pressure behind my eye, a disc at the back of my eye should have gone from a sharp edge, to a rough one, but that she hadn't been able to see it. I looked at her and could see by her face that this troubled her. She told me that if I had attended her surgery, that she probably would have sent me away with medication for my headaches, and that would have been the end of it. I felt fortunate that I had presented my case to my GP in a way that led to a quick diagnosis, and that she had been open (if a little reluctant) to further explorations. GP's get a rough trot sometimes, in my opinion, when in reality, they are confronted regularly with minor issues that are easily treated, they are under immense pressure to see many patients, and then are expected to diagnose complex and rare conditions under the same conditions. People often refer to Jack of all trades, when in reality, GPs are expected to be masters of all.
I carried on biding my time until the date of the operation, and in truth, was counting down the days, hours and seconds.
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