As the weeks and months passed by my headaches persisted. I was missing school and work and sleeping more than I was awake, which was very out of character for me. I remember thinking, "something is really wrong with me." So I went to the doctor that the rest of my family goes to (the doctor I went to when I was a kid that I got mad at for something silly like paying more attention to my brother or something like that). He then diagnosed me with migraines. He treated me with a preventative and pain medication if I got another. This was early to mid summer, I'd say July. This worked very well for a couple of months. I got a headache here and there but the medication seemed to be working... For the most part anyway.
Meanwhile I was working full time at an Oil and Gas Company, waiting tables on the weekend, and going to school full time. Needless to say, I did NOT have time to be sick! In late September I started having more and more "headaches." I'll use quotes because they were so much more than a headache! I couldn't move. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I could hardly talk, much less put a sentance together. I couldn't even keep medicine down, and when I did, it didn't help anyway. I spent countless nights falling asleep on the bathroom floor or with my head in the toilet because I was so exhausted and I couldn't stop vomiting. I remember one night my brother woke up to use the bathroom and I was lying still with my eyes closed across the floor. He didn't say a word, he just turned off the light and let me be.
This carried on into October. (Keep in mind the Rangers, whom I am obsessed with, were in the postseason during this time. I'll be honest, I didn't miss a home game.) During October I had more bad days than good. I would have a "headache" for about 4 days in a row (That's 4 days of constant, sharp, shooting pain all throughout my head. A type of pain I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.) Then I would have 1 or 2 days without one. Anyone who knows me even a little bit knows I don't do needles or blood, (Even today when I got my blood taken I passed out!) but the pain was so bad that I was in the doctors office 1 to 2 times a week begging for a pain killer shot and an anti nausea shot.
I saw every Doctor and Physician's Assistant in that practice. Sometimes I would be so weak they would have to get a wheel chair to wheel me from the waiting room to the exam room because i couldn't stand. Even on a good day I couldn't ride (or drive) in the car for more than five minutes without getting sick. Every time I sat down my head pounded, and by pounded I mean a sharp pain went through my head. I also thought I had fluid in my ears because I could hear it sloshing around and I could hear my heart beating. It was so loud I could hardly hear anything else. I was constantly having to ask people to repeat what they said. I was given several different allergy medicines. Nothing helped.
On November 1st my Mom started a new job in Dallas. Her only condition in taking the job was that she (and I) would have health insurance from day one. (normally there is about a 30 day lagg in between job changes.) Since I am still a student I am still on my mom's insurance. On Thursday, November 3, 2011 I went in for a CT scan. I had to get my very fist IV...yuck! A few days passed and I didn't hear anything from my doctor. Then on Tuesday, November 8, 2011 I woke up feeling okay enough to go to work. So I took my daily "preventative" pills, which usually consisted of a couple of Exedrin Migraines, some advil, and a few wholistic remedies such as magnesium and whatever else my dad thought would help. I got dressed, went into work, and sat down at my desk.
After about an hour and half at work I got a call from a nurse at my Doctor's office. She told me they got the results from my CT scan. She seemed very surprised to hear that I was actually feeling okay that day. She then went on to tell me to come in at 11 am and bring my parents. She also said my doctor made an appointment with a neurosurgeon that afternoon. (That part didn't register until later.) I left the office immediately and called my mom. She left her office to come with me. Then I called my sister. She is pretty good in a crisis. I was freaking out inside. I had never been in the hospital before or even broken a bone. Not a real dare devil over here! She calmed me down, as she usually does. She is pretty good at talking me off the ledge.
My mom, dad, and I went into to doctor's office. The minutes in that waiting room felt like hours. When the Doctor came in he sat us down and said they found a mass in my cerebellum. He was trying to contact the neurosurgeon but he was in surgery. I sat in the tiny exam room, numb inside, my palms were sweating, my stomach was turning, and all I could think about was, "I'm gonna have to go to the hospital...I'm gonna have to have surgery...I'm gonna have to cut my hair!"
He came back in and said he got ahold of Dr. Mickey, the number 1 neurosurgeon in the country, and I was going straight to the hospital in Dallas, straight to ICU. He assured me that this was the best possible hospital to be at and I would be in good hands. He said they didn't know much but the Neurosurgeons could tell me more. I just looked at him and calmly asked, "Can I go by my house to pick up my make up?" The Doctor looked at me with the most puzzled face I have ever seen and replied with, "Well, We are kind of in a hurry." I quickly assured him that it was on the way and let's face it, I wasn't taking no for an answer.
After a quick pit stop to get my make up, flat iron, and a few other essentials, we were off to the hospital. I had several phone calls to make on the way there. I called a few of my closest friends and calmly told them what was going on. My parents called my brother. I called my sister. I could tell most of my friends were waiting for me to tell them I was joking and when I didn't panic set in. It was important to me that I remained calm so they wouldn't freak out. I had a gut feeling everything was going to be okay. During the stressful car ride of non stop phone calls I blurted out to my parents, "This is so exciting because the hospital is right by Eatzi's!" (my favorite restaurant and bottom line, the silver lining.)
We valeted the car (yeah, you read that right. It was a very fancy hospital) and I walked into hospital and checked in then headed to Neuro ICU. when I got to the Nurse's station I said, "My name is Rebecca Epps and I need to check in." I got another puzzled look from her. Confused, she asked if I was the patient. She was a little shocked since people don't normally walk into the ICU and check themselves in. The nurse took me to my room where I changed into my gown, still a little numb, and was asked a series of questions; "What is your full name? Do you know the date? Do you know where you are? Do you know why you are here? Can you hold your arms out and count backwards from 10?" I learned that these were called Neuro-checks and they did them EVERY hour, whether you were awake or asleep. Then they would shine a bright light in your eyes and make you follow their finger. These were especially fun in the middle of the night.
Next, I met my doctors. I don't remember the name of the first doctor I met because he wasn't one of my main doctors (I had a lot) but I do remember he had a creepy mustache and I told him he looked like a pediphile. Remember it was november and all the guys were growing out their mustaches for prostate cancer awareness. After the doctors left the room to come up with a game plan we realized we hadn't eaten anything all day. It was around 3pm. I had no other choice but to send my dad on what would be the first of many Eatzi's runs! By this time my brother was at the hospital with us so he went with him.
The first thing the doctors did was start pumping me full of drugs and I gotta say... I didn't hate it! Well, first I had to get an IV...that only took about six sticks...and I am not exaggerating. I quickly learned which nurses to ask for. After the trauma of the first IV they started me on steriods to try to shrink the tumor if at all possible. I had also started to get a pretty bad headache so they started me on some pretty awesome pain killers. Where were those like 4 months ago?
Daryn was my first official visitor. He brought me flowers (which I couldn't have since I was in ICU so they kept them in the lobby) and a stuffed puppy that I thought smelled like drugs so I named him Drug Dog. (Remember, I was on some pretty heavy narcotics!) Drug Dog was my security blanket. I held on to him the whole time I was in the hospital, I squeezed him with ever poke of a needle.
The doctors did a few more scans and found out a little more about the tumor. It was about the size of a lemon and it was smack dab in the center of my head. (I wasn't fully aware of the location at the time, nor did I want to be.) It was also blocking my brain fluid from getting to my spinal cord. The Doctors still couldn't believe how well I was doing. When they saw my scans they thought I should be in a coma. Since I had been taking Excedrin for a while, my blood platlets were low. This meant they couldn't do any type of procedure for 5 to 7 days.
My best friend, Jennifer, was my next visitor. She rushed from work, didn't bring any clothes or make up or anything else and stayed with me through the night. My night nurse, Nancy (who I renamed Drew for some reason), made accommodations for Jennifer. The first night was the worst. Not only did I experience my first "sponge bath" but I also got absolutely no sleep. Neuro-ICU is loud and bright and I had to lay on my back instead of sleeping on my stomach. I quickly learned I would need ear plugs (which I later stole from imaging during my MRI.) and an eye mask. I "woke up" to a Doctor shining a flashlight in my eyes for Neuro-checks at five in the morning, I was already sick of them. Doctor Griffith was his name. He was funny and young and handsome... and married- of course!
Soon after Dr. Handsome, I mean Griffith finished with my neuro-check, Jennifer went home and I put on my make up and flat Ironed my hair, as I did everyday. We soon developed a routine. My dad would get to the hospital around 6 or 7 am every morning with Starbucks in hand. Some days my mom would go into work for a half day or so since she worked pretty close to the hospital, and my brother usually went to school or work, coming up to the hospital in between. My sister came down from Missouri and spent almost every night at the hospital with me.
Over the first week of being in the hospital I had almost 50 visitors. I was blown away from the amount of support I had from my friends and family. Typically they only let 2 visitors in the room at a time in ICU but since I "appeared" to be okay they let the rules slide for me.They even moved me into the bigger room. Every time I got a new nurse they would look at my chart and expect me to practically be in a coma then they would walk in my room and think they had the wrong patient. Several of them even asked if I was going home soon. I was up walking around the floor, going to the lobby to look at all my flowers, and even sitting outside on the balcony to enjoy my coffee. I was glad so many people were visiting because it made the days go by so much faster, and because on the following Monday I was going to have a procedure where they shaved part of the top of my head and inserted a catheter to drain all the brain fluid that was collecting at the top of my head. That was the fluid I was hearing in my ears.
Monday morning finally came and they took me to the operating room. This was the first surgery I have ever had in my entire life. The anesthesiologist talked to me about what he was going to give me and then he told me to count backwards from 10. He tricked me! He was actually giving me the Anesthesia then! When I woke up he was standing over me and asking me questions. After I answered I asked him what he gave me and when he replied with, "Propofol." I yelled, "The Michael Jackson Juice?!" Then I heard him say to the doctors, "okay she is fine!"
I mentioned earlier that it took about 6 sticks to get my first IV. Well that seemed to be a pattern since apparently my veins "spasm" every time they stick them. Since you have to get a new IV every 3 or 4 days, they decided to do a Pic line instead. I don't even want to know how it works but since I could have it for the rest of the time I was in the hospital, I was all for it! That also took about 6 or 7 tries. It was even more painful since they had to dig around a little to do it.
They continued to drain the fluid for the next couple of days. During this time I probably had 3 or 4 CT scans and at least 2 MRI's. They decided Wednesday, November 16 was going to be the big day. The day they would remove my tumor (which had developed the nick name, The Biebs, for some reason.) I could tell my friends and family were trying to hold back their emotions. They were getting more and more nervous but I wasn't. You would think I would have been an emotional wreck but I wasn't. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was going to be okay. I truly felt a peace that passes all understanding.
Wednesday morning my family came to the hospital about an hour before I went in for surgery. My favorite day nurse, Barb (who always singing and eating my starbursts), wheeled me back to the operating room, the same room I was in two days before. The same Anesthesiologist came to knock me out, at which time I remember asking him for "extra" because I did NOT want to wake up in the middle of this! He assured me I wouldn't. I woke up 6 1/2 hours later, freezing, with a horrible pain in my right ankle from an IV I wasn't aware of and the worst sore throat (and chest) I have ever had, from laying on my stomach with a breathing tube for 6 1/2 hours.
When Barb was waking me up she kept asking if I was okay. I shook my head yes. Then she asked me to put my arms down. Apparently I thought I was Ricky Bobby or something because I kept raising my hands up like he did in that first interview in Talladega Nights. She wheeled me in my bed back to my room and said she would wait an hour or so before getting my family. After the shortest hour ever Barb came into my room and told me she had my mom and my sister there to see me, of which I replied, "No, no, no. Go away." I guess I was really enjoying my sleep.
The surgery went even better than expected. They were able to get the entire tumor and the pathology reports came back indicating that it was benign. I still had the catheter in my head though to continue to drain the fluid. At this time the list of allowed visitors was very limited since I looked so rough. A few days later my sister went home and I remained in ICU until they took the catheter out. I was in ICU for a total of 16 days. Thats 16 days of no showers... gross.
I still had high pressure in my head from all the fluid so they kept monitoring me to make sure they didn't need to put a shunt- or an internal drain- in my head. I moved to the "floor" from ICU to a much better room. I spent Thanksgiving in the hospital. My cousins were nice enough to make a small dish of everything they made and sent it to the hospital. Even though I spent it in the hospital, eating with only my mom and dad, this Thanksgiving meant more to me than it ever had. I truly had something to be thankful for; my life. On day 20 my doctors decided it was time for me to go home. I had never been more excited for anything in my life.
As soon as I got home I sat in my recliner and began clearing out my DVR. I had weeks of shows to get caught up on. Shortly after I got home though, my stitches started to leak. I knew what this meant. It meant I had to go back, and on top of that I would have to get a shunt. This meant one more procedure in less than 2 weeks, one more time of being put under anesthesia, and who knows how many more nights in the hospital. I didn't cry when my doctor told me I had a brain tumor. I didn't cry when He said I had to have surgery. I didn't even cry from the pain of the surgery, but I cried when I saw that little stream of fluid running down my forehead. I didn't think I had the strength to go back.
Just 5 hours after I had been discharged I found myself back in my same hospital room getting an IV. Dr. Griffith came to Stitch up my head to stop the leaking. Yes, that was without any type of numbing agent. OUCH! My stitches continued to leak for the next couple of days and this process of stitching up my forehead was repeated countless times. I was back where I had been for the last 20 days. I was so disappointed because I was feeling so good and I knew this would slow down my recovery process.
On day 22 I had my 3rd and final procedure. Same surgeons, same anesthesiologist. After they put the shunt in I felt awful. All my energy was drained. That was a lot of anesthesia in such a short amount of time. Then I did what I should've never done, I looked in the Mirror. It was awful. My hair was destroyed. I went for an MRI that night and the pressure was already down tremendously. On day 23 I was discharged, for real this time. I was finally home for good.
Over the next few weeks and months I went in for several MRI's and check ups, each time with a better result. This past june I was told that it looked so good I wouldn't have to go back for a whole year! This was music to my ears. This meant I would go a year without getting an IV, since you have to get one every time you get an MRI, which means a year without passing out! (except for when I had my blood taken today, but that's a different story.)
I had to drop all of the classes I was in that semester and it set me back a semester on going to TCU but the quality of my life now is well worth it. I never thought something like this could happen to me. I was relatively healthy and I was only 24 years old. Since then I have researched the type of tumor I had. It is most common in children and young adults and is almost always benign. The danger of it is the size. So really if you are going to have a brain tumor, which I don't recommend, this is the one you want. However, it only accounts for 2% or ALL brain tumors. When I read that and heard other peoples stories I realized just how much God was watching over me.
There are so many other things that came into play but for the sake of not making this a novel I have left a few details out. I still don't know the reason this happened to me but I do believe with all of my heart that it is all a part of His plan. So if you asked me how this has changed my life, I might not be able to tell you yet, but I will tell you to never take a day for granted. Always tell your friends and family how much you love them, and try to be patient with others because you never know what they have been through or are going through.
Just for fun, here are some of the pictures that were taken in the hospital.
Victoria and Liv brought me yummy muffins.
Michael came to see me a few times.
Chelsey brought endless goodies and spent the night with me.
My old children's Pastors came to see and pray with me.
Here is my Aunt and her fiance.
My boss and Friend brought me hats, which came in handy!
The Schrecks brought me some yummy chocolate.
Krissy brought me a survival kit with lip gloss, dry shampoo, gum and many other goodies!
She also stayed the night.
These are my cousins, who sent thanksgiving dinner, and my grandmother.
Katie and James came to see me on Katie's birthday.
And of course, this is my prom hair in the ICU and the "drug dog" Daryn brought me.
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