I noticed he was really tired. The weekend before this all started he slept off and on for three days. He worked hard, but still, that wasn't like him. Then Tuesday happened.
How could one stupid migraine change everything? I got a message at work that he'd had a migraine and was taking a half day. When I got home he had taken a nap and was starting to feel better. Now, I've had migraines since I was 13 so nothing he said struck me as odd. Headache, sensitivity to light and sound, aura. He had some confusion and difficulty talking, which didn't sound familiar, but he said it had happened once a few years ago and passed. It passed quickly today and he didn't have any signs or symptoms of a stroke, so I wasn't too worried. He ate, we slept, and the next day he was better. Thursday the last thing I expected was a text a little bit before the end of the day saying he was a little concerned about his health because the migraine happened again, and he was going to Strong.
Strong? Why the hospital? Isn't that extreme? There's nothing wrong so surely this CAT scan they want to do is overkill, right?? 4 hours we waited in that emergency room. Now, if anybody knows me you know when I get hungry, I get CRABBY. After 4 hours I was hungry, my back hurt from sitting in the chair, and WHY is this taking so long when there's nothing wrong with him? Let's just deal with this at his doctor's office tomorrow, right?
We were about 30 minutes from walking out when they finally called us in for blood work and hooking up an IV. Why is that necessary? Oh, they do it for everybody... fine. Another half hour passes and finally here we go, time for our scan. It's almost 11 at night now... where are we going to eat? Where's open? It doesn't matter, we'll find something. So he has his scan and we're out of here, right?? No, we have to go talk about the results, now.
What do you mean there's something abnormal? Why are you getting neurosurgery?? WHY ARE YOU DROPPING THIS NONSENSE ON US AND WALKING OUT WITHOUT TELLING US WHAT'S HAPPENING TO MY HUSBAND???
There are no words for what I felt. No words to explain that feeling of the elevator dropping out of my stomach. Well, that took care of my appetite.
Most of the next 24 hours were a blur. Phone calls, doctors coming in and out, tests. Nobody could tell us what was happening other than that there was a large mass on Jesse's brain and they won't know what it is until they get it out. They were amazed he wasn't having seizures yet, but the reason he was having such a hard time with speech was that it was sitting right on the speech center of his brain.
I tried to sleep... my mother-in-law drove me home to take care of the animals and get a few things. I watched some Doctor Who in an attempt to get a little piece of normal back into my life... we always watch Doctor Who before bed. But sleep was very fleeting. Mostly, I couldn't stop shaking. What was happening? When would we have answers? Finally in the morning we met the neurosurgeon they had assigned us and got our first answers. The tumor, while large, was growing out of the brain rather than in, meaning that they COULD operate. Finally, some good news! I could stop shaking. Surely if it's growing out it's not cancer, right??
In steps my sister-in-law. She's one of the head nurses in post-anesthesia at Unity. I don't know where we would be without her! She knows the best neurosurgeon in the area, probably in the country, and the guy we were assigned is not him. She's already been talking with Dr. Maurer's PA and they've agreed to take Jesse's case if we want to go. Well! If she trusts him and says he's be best, that's absolutely who we want! Dr. Maurer immediately made an impression and gave us some answers. He told us while they won't know what it is until they get it out, we are going to figure it out, and we're going to fix it. We are so thankful for Dr. Maurer and his team... Dr. Kimmel, Mary the PA, his anesthesiologists. He assembled his own dream team to take care of my husband.
Throughout the week his family came from Brooklyn and Phoenix to be at our sides. People I barely knew stepped up to send us food. Everybody offered their prayers and their company. When I couldn't stand staying at the hospital friends opened their homes to me so I didn't have to be alone. Jesse and I both were overwhelmed by the outpouring of love we felt from simply everywhere.
Finally the day came to get the tumor out. The relief I would feel when the surgery was over.. that would be immediate, right? Not so fast. I'm so thankful for my best friend. She came before the sun was up to bring me coffee and sit with me. She was there to pull me away from our family because I didn't want to let them see me cry. Even though he came through surgery like a superstar, this thing was far from over.
Although, when he called us in a week later to tell us it really is cancer, I'm thankful we had that time to prepare. To hear the same bad news while the rest was all still new, I don't think I could have handled that. The good news was that while yes it is cancerous, it is mostly slow growing and WILL respond to chemotherapy.
Now our journey doesn't end here. You see, when this nightmare began, we were into our fifth month of trying for a baby and just starting to undergo tests to find out why I wasn't pregnant yet. My tests all came back fine, so we probably just needed more time and that age-old word of advice: patience. Right? Wrong again. We all know what chemotherapy does to fertility. So immediately on hearing our plan of 6 weeks of radiation and chemo, possibly with another 6 month course of chemotherapy pills after, I called our fertility center to find out about preserving... specimens.
We knew we only had a few weeks until he started treatments so we didn't have much time to waste. Just about a week after the cancer diagnosis, two weeks since the nightmare began, the other phone call came that would rock our world again. They did find something they didn't like. Without violating my husband's privacy, they told us that attempts at IUI would be a waste of time, money, and a resource that might soon be no longer renewable. If we want to have our own, half him half me, biological children, IVF is the only way. Just a week after finding out my husband has cancer, that was a very bitter pill to swallow. I felt so angry... hadn't we been dealt enough? Why did we have to deal with all of this? Why the need for IVF on top of everything else?
The very next day, we received a call from Dr. Maurer explaining that he and the radiation/oncology team believe they'll be able to do their job better if they get more of the tumor out. Could we have another surgery in 10 days?? Well that sure alters our "preserving" plan, doesn't it? Would he be set way back on his recovery? It took a while after surgery to see some of his personality come back. Do we really have to go through this again? What about the risks? Would we be this lucky the second time??
Again his family came from Phoenix and Brooklyn. But we don't have to be so nervous this time because the doctor knows he has a safe path. It should be a faster surgery. RIGHT??? So I thought. Now in the waiting room, they have this neat little monitor where you can track your loved one's progress. It'll give a number that is assigned to your person with a red like for Pre Anesthesia, yellow for OR, green for Post Anesthesia. We anticipated they would be done between 10 and 10:30. It started approaching 10:45 and I heard his sister say they never took him into the OR until 9, so it'll probably be after 11. 11 approached, and he was still in the OR. The other person waiting talked to his person's surgeon, and they started after us. Was something wrong? Was there a complication? Surely they would tell us if there was... but why is it 11:15 and he's still in surgery?
Finally at 11:30 out of the corner of my eye I see his line change from yellow to green. I jump up and scream "HE'S IN THE PACU!!!" What seemed like 20 minutes later (but was really about 5) Dr. Maurer came out with a big smile asking why are we all still there, he thought we would have gone to Arby's by now. A few of us laughed, I was frozen. Finally he said, we got a HUGE piece of the tumor out. After preparing us for Jesse to have had some language and understanding complications, he said immediately on waking up he knew where he is, and gave him the technical phrasing for what had just happened. That's about the part where I tuned out and started to cry. THERE was the relief I wanted after the first one!
If I hadn't seen it for myself, I wouldn't have believed it. But 2 hours after his surgery, he looked more himself than he had before he even went in for his first one. He was talking clearly. The next day he was up and walking, ready to walk the hallways. No confusion, no trouble talking, no problem. He does have an occasional tremor in his hands that we don't know if it's related to the surgery or his medication, and we don't know if it's permanent or not. But if that's the price we have to pay to have bought him another 50 years, it's a wonderfully small price.
So we came home three days after surgery and immediately, I have my husband back. Our journey is not over. It's only just beginning. But the worst is over. In the next couple of weeks we will begin our next road, the 6 week course of radiation and chemotherapy. Our plan going forward is, get through this first course, and just in time for our first wedding anniversary have his first follow-up MRI to check the progress. All I want for our anniversary is to hear "The treatments were a success." We may or may not need another course of 5 days on, 23 days off of chemo pills, but Dr. Maurer said that doing this second surgery has cut at least 3 months off of that. Then, we will talk about our plans to expand our family.
Welcome aboard, it's going to be a crazy ride. Let's heal Team Stearns.
How could one stupid migraine change everything? I got a message at work that he'd had a migraine and was taking a half day. When I got home he had taken a nap and was starting to feel better. Now, I've had migraines since I was 13 so nothing he said struck me as odd. Headache, sensitivity to light and sound, aura. He had some confusion and difficulty talking, which didn't sound familiar, but he said it had happened once a few years ago and passed. It passed quickly today and he didn't have any signs or symptoms of a stroke, so I wasn't too worried. He ate, we slept, and the next day he was better. Thursday the last thing I expected was a text a little bit before the end of the day saying he was a little concerned about his health because the migraine happened again, and he was going to Strong.
Strong? Why the hospital? Isn't that extreme? There's nothing wrong so surely this CAT scan they want to do is overkill, right?? 4 hours we waited in that emergency room. Now, if anybody knows me you know when I get hungry, I get CRABBY. After 4 hours I was hungry, my back hurt from sitting in the chair, and WHY is this taking so long when there's nothing wrong with him? Let's just deal with this at his doctor's office tomorrow, right?
We were about 30 minutes from walking out when they finally called us in for blood work and hooking up an IV. Why is that necessary? Oh, they do it for everybody... fine. Another half hour passes and finally here we go, time for our scan. It's almost 11 at night now... where are we going to eat? Where's open? It doesn't matter, we'll find something. So he has his scan and we're out of here, right?? No, we have to go talk about the results, now.
What do you mean there's something abnormal? Why are you getting neurosurgery?? WHY ARE YOU DROPPING THIS NONSENSE ON US AND WALKING OUT WITHOUT TELLING US WHAT'S HAPPENING TO MY HUSBAND???
There are no words for what I felt. No words to explain that feeling of the elevator dropping out of my stomach. Well, that took care of my appetite.
Most of the next 24 hours were a blur. Phone calls, doctors coming in and out, tests. Nobody could tell us what was happening other than that there was a large mass on Jesse's brain and they won't know what it is until they get it out. They were amazed he wasn't having seizures yet, but the reason he was having such a hard time with speech was that it was sitting right on the speech center of his brain.
I tried to sleep... my mother-in-law drove me home to take care of the animals and get a few things. I watched some Doctor Who in an attempt to get a little piece of normal back into my life... we always watch Doctor Who before bed. But sleep was very fleeting. Mostly, I couldn't stop shaking. What was happening? When would we have answers? Finally in the morning we met the neurosurgeon they had assigned us and got our first answers. The tumor, while large, was growing out of the brain rather than in, meaning that they COULD operate. Finally, some good news! I could stop shaking. Surely if it's growing out it's not cancer, right??
In steps my sister-in-law. She's one of the head nurses in post-anesthesia at Unity. I don't know where we would be without her! She knows the best neurosurgeon in the area, probably in the country, and the guy we were assigned is not him. She's already been talking with Dr. Maurer's PA and they've agreed to take Jesse's case if we want to go. Well! If she trusts him and says he's be best, that's absolutely who we want! Dr. Maurer immediately made an impression and gave us some answers. He told us while they won't know what it is until they get it out, we are going to figure it out, and we're going to fix it. We are so thankful for Dr. Maurer and his team... Dr. Kimmel, Mary the PA, his anesthesiologists. He assembled his own dream team to take care of my husband.
Throughout the week his family came from Brooklyn and Phoenix to be at our sides. People I barely knew stepped up to send us food. Everybody offered their prayers and their company. When I couldn't stand staying at the hospital friends opened their homes to me so I didn't have to be alone. Jesse and I both were overwhelmed by the outpouring of love we felt from simply everywhere.
Finally the day came to get the tumor out. The relief I would feel when the surgery was over.. that would be immediate, right? Not so fast. I'm so thankful for my best friend. She came before the sun was up to bring me coffee and sit with me. She was there to pull me away from our family because I didn't want to let them see me cry. Even though he came through surgery like a superstar, this thing was far from over.
Although, when he called us in a week later to tell us it really is cancer, I'm thankful we had that time to prepare. To hear the same bad news while the rest was all still new, I don't think I could have handled that. The good news was that while yes it is cancerous, it is mostly slow growing and WILL respond to chemotherapy.
Now our journey doesn't end here. You see, when this nightmare began, we were into our fifth month of trying for a baby and just starting to undergo tests to find out why I wasn't pregnant yet. My tests all came back fine, so we probably just needed more time and that age-old word of advice: patience. Right? Wrong again. We all know what chemotherapy does to fertility. So immediately on hearing our plan of 6 weeks of radiation and chemo, possibly with another 6 month course of chemotherapy pills after, I called our fertility center to find out about preserving... specimens.
We knew we only had a few weeks until he started treatments so we didn't have much time to waste. Just about a week after the cancer diagnosis, two weeks since the nightmare began, the other phone call came that would rock our world again. They did find something they didn't like. Without violating my husband's privacy, they told us that attempts at IUI would be a waste of time, money, and a resource that might soon be no longer renewable. If we want to have our own, half him half me, biological children, IVF is the only way. Just a week after finding out my husband has cancer, that was a very bitter pill to swallow. I felt so angry... hadn't we been dealt enough? Why did we have to deal with all of this? Why the need for IVF on top of everything else?
The very next day, we received a call from Dr. Maurer explaining that he and the radiation/oncology team believe they'll be able to do their job better if they get more of the tumor out. Could we have another surgery in 10 days?? Well that sure alters our "preserving" plan, doesn't it? Would he be set way back on his recovery? It took a while after surgery to see some of his personality come back. Do we really have to go through this again? What about the risks? Would we be this lucky the second time??
Again his family came from Phoenix and Brooklyn. But we don't have to be so nervous this time because the doctor knows he has a safe path. It should be a faster surgery. RIGHT??? So I thought. Now in the waiting room, they have this neat little monitor where you can track your loved one's progress. It'll give a number that is assigned to your person with a red like for Pre Anesthesia, yellow for OR, green for Post Anesthesia. We anticipated they would be done between 10 and 10:30. It started approaching 10:45 and I heard his sister say they never took him into the OR until 9, so it'll probably be after 11. 11 approached, and he was still in the OR. The other person waiting talked to his person's surgeon, and they started after us. Was something wrong? Was there a complication? Surely they would tell us if there was... but why is it 11:15 and he's still in surgery?
Finally at 11:30 out of the corner of my eye I see his line change from yellow to green. I jump up and scream "HE'S IN THE PACU!!!" What seemed like 20 minutes later (but was really about 5) Dr. Maurer came out with a big smile asking why are we all still there, he thought we would have gone to Arby's by now. A few of us laughed, I was frozen. Finally he said, we got a HUGE piece of the tumor out. After preparing us for Jesse to have had some language and understanding complications, he said immediately on waking up he knew where he is, and gave him the technical phrasing for what had just happened. That's about the part where I tuned out and started to cry. THERE was the relief I wanted after the first one!
If I hadn't seen it for myself, I wouldn't have believed it. But 2 hours after his surgery, he looked more himself than he had before he even went in for his first one. He was talking clearly. The next day he was up and walking, ready to walk the hallways. No confusion, no trouble talking, no problem. He does have an occasional tremor in his hands that we don't know if it's related to the surgery or his medication, and we don't know if it's permanent or not. But if that's the price we have to pay to have bought him another 50 years, it's a wonderfully small price.
So we came home three days after surgery and immediately, I have my husband back. Our journey is not over. It's only just beginning. But the worst is over. In the next couple of weeks we will begin our next road, the 6 week course of radiation and chemotherapy. Our plan going forward is, get through this first course, and just in time for our first wedding anniversary have his first follow-up MRI to check the progress. All I want for our anniversary is to hear "The treatments were a success." We may or may not need another course of 5 days on, 23 days off of chemo pills, but Dr. Maurer said that doing this second surgery has cut at least 3 months off of that. Then, we will talk about our plans to expand our family.
Welcome aboard, it's going to be a crazy ride. Let's heal Team Stearns.
I know how you felt. It is a roller coaster and will be for a while. The waiting is always the worst. Hang in there, all will be well. I am sure God has plans for both of you. Love you Jesse, and you too, Katie even though we haven't yet met. You have made Jesse happy and that is all the Fischer family wanted. Love from all of us to all of you
ReplyDeletesending continued prayers, strength and hugs!! 🙏🏻💪🏻💚
ReplyDeleteWow, what a beautiful brave testimony you have given here. Looks like Jesse is not the only strong one. Blessings on you both! Laurie LaBar Spinelli
ReplyDeleteKatie, Thank you so much for sharing, it means a lot to those of us that have questions. Lots of love from the Colorado chapter of team Stearns. Tell jess chicks dig scars!
ReplyDelete