Six years ago this month today, my life would be forever changed.
It began the year prior. Life was busy with work, softball, weekend courses and catching up with friends. As we were coming to the end of 2015 and headed towards the Christmas holidays; I started to feel quite fatigued and a heavy malaise. I would attribute this to overwork and a busy lifestyle. Fastforward to a few months into 2016, I started to develop numbness and tingling down my left arm. My intuitive physio mind went immediately to an entrapped nerve. However, after having my colleagues assess and work on me as if it was that, no changes or a definite diagnosis was concluded. I would go on to discussing this issue with one of the doctor’s at the clinic. Initially, I would be sent for imaging of my neck and spine. When those came back negative, I was brushed off and told that it was all just ‘in my head’.
After a few more weeks, the symptoms would progress and worsen. I would take matters into my own hands. I had a fully booked day, but I was determined to get to the bottom of this. I had the receptionist block off my late morning and early afternoon as I walked over to St. Mikes hospital, just a few blocks north of my workplace. Once there, I had told them about my progressive symptoms. I would end up cancelling my day as I would wait from 11am until 11pm. When I was finally seen, it would be a resident doctor, who goes through the same tests as my colleagues. At this point, I was frustrated, fatigued, and agitated. Finally, the on-call doctor walks in, takes a minute history and realizes that It was more than they could chew on.
I would be sent for a STAT MRI shortly after midnight that evening. I recall when I had a Colle’s fracture of my left wrist years prior, and the MRI being around 15-20 minutes. I was in the MRI machine this time of my brain for what seemed to be forever. When it was finally over, I turn to the technician asking if I should be concerned. Legally, not allowed to disclose any details until I spoke with a doctor, they make a comment of how they needed to take a few extra scans. As I was walking out, I took a quick glance and my curiosity up to that point was answered.
what started off as fatigue followed by numbness and tingling down my left arm, turned out to be a brain tumour the size of a baseball. It finally hit home as to my symptoms and how nothing made sense until now. I block the rest of my week off as I awaited for my options. By weeks end, I was booked for brain surgery. First, they would perform a biopsy to confirm the type of tumor, and resection if deemed non cancerous.
After deeming the tumor to not be cancerous but benign, they went ahead with the resection after the go ahead from my sister and Mom. First surgery appeared to be a success. However, upon re-imaging, not only did they only remove only approximately about 20% of the tumor, but they also nicked a vessel, causing me to have a brain bleed or a stroke. The second surgery was in order to resect the remaining 80% along with the cauterization of the brain bleed. After re-imaging, to the dismay of the surgeon and his team, they realized they still had a small portion of the tumor remaining. At this point, my physical function had declined dramatically. After three surgeries and two brain bleeds, my brain has had enough. My blood was infected and I was in sepsis with a high fever.
They had realized the only way to give my brain a fighting chance, was to place me in an induced coma. Mom would be by my side throughout my coma, praying unceasingly and singing songs of worship as she pleaded with God to miraculously heal me.
Two weeks into my induced coma, the cerebral spinal fluid that typically is cycled through the brain and spinal cord, similar to ridding of the waste products within the central nervous system, was not performing its function properly – my brain essentially, had not ‘reset’.
At this point, the surgical team has to make another daunting decision – to perform a tracheotomy or not. Performing such would allow for a longer, safer intubation, but could also possibly damage my vocal cords in the long run. Mom along with the church family prayed unceasingly for a miracle. The day the decision had to be made, the cerebral spinal fluid within my brain and spinal cord, which at the time was stagnant, started to flow. This signified that my brain was recovering enough to provide the basic bodily functions such as breathing. This allowed the team to wean me off the sedatives and wake me up.
If you want to change the world, listen to and cherish your Mom and the ones that has supported you through thick and thin.
JIMMY ZHOU PHYSIOTHERAPY SERVICES 