The Saturday that changed everything.

The first question everyone asks when we tell them Peter has a brain tumor is "How did you find out?"  I've told this story about 15 times already and I'm a little weary of repeating it, so one last time, here you go.  Pete and I have been working on fixing up the house lately.  We had been painting bathrooms and were getting ready to start painting the kitchen when we decided to take a short nap.  Within just a few minutes of lying down, Peter had a seizure.  He'd never had a seizure before, so of course I went into an all-out panic (just an FYI, touch screen phones are not panic-friendly).  I finally managed to call 911 and the police arrived within 5 minutes (much faster than the 25 minutes it took them to arrive when we were robbed.  Woohoo, Columbia Police Department!  You really CAN do it!).  As if our house wasn't small enough already, we had moved the contents of our bathrooms, closets and kitchen into the living room in order to paint, so I had to clear a path into the bedroom while we waited for the paramedics to arrive.  They took Pete via ambulance to Maury Regional Hospital where he underwent a CT scan and MRI.  The MRI showed that Pete had a brain tumor, but it was still several more hours before we were able to meet with a Neurologist who could shed some light on the situation.  He explained that certain tumors have very specific characteristics, and based on what he saw in the MRI, he felt fairly certain that this was a low-grade astrocytoma (go ahead and get your Google on).  This particular type of tumor does not have definite borders and actually has microscopic tentacles that spread into the brain.  This makes entire removal during surgery extremely difficult, if not impossible.  In short, they will be able to remove most of the tumor, but whatever is left will most likely grow back in a more aggressive form.  Based on this information, the Neurologist estimated that with a successful surgery, Peter could live another 10-15 years.  In addition to this news, he added that the tumor is located in the left hemisphere in the area that controls language and comprehension.  There is a possibility that surgery could compromise this part of the brain, which would mean that Peter could no longer continue in his current line of work.  Needless to say, at this point we were completely blown away and having difficulty processing this information.  We spent the next 24 hours crying, trying to adjust to our new reality, and just feeling numb.  

It has been almost a week since Peter's diagnosis.  In some ways, things are still the same and in some ways they are very different.  For starters, he is not allowed to work or drive (I still argue that Peter driving during a seizure would still be safer than my driving at any given time).  We have had some good days (today) and some really bad days (yesterday).  Overall we are just trying to adjust to life with cancer and accepting the fact that our life prior to last Saturday no longer exists.  We are now looking at surgery, medications, possible chemo and radiation, check-ups and MRI's.  We need to look into the details of our will and life insurance, among other things we never thought we'd have to do at this age.  

After hearing the story of how this all came to be, the next question everyone asks is "How are you doing?" or "What can I do for you?"  Well, to be honest, we're not doing great but we're doing ok.  Ryan underwent 3 heart surgeries before the age of 5, so we're at least somewhat experienced in this area.  We don't relish the opportunity to do this again, but we feel able to switch back into that mode and handle this a second time. Family and friends have surrounded us this past week to make us feel loved and cared for.  We've had multiple offers to cover childcare, meals, and household tasks.  

Overall, if you want to help us, there are several things you can do:

Pray for us -- We're big believers in miracles and we've seen them before.  

Let us know you're thinking of us -- Seriously, all the texts, phone calls and Facebook messages have made us feel like the cool kids in school, which is actually kind of the opposite of what we really were.  ;)

Make us laugh -- Cancer sucks, but laughter helps.  We've done our best to make light of the situation whenever possible.  Don't be afraid of offending us -- if there's an inappropriate cancer joke, we've probably already made it.

Don't treat us any differently than you normally would -- Pete doesn't feel sick and I'm not moping around.  We appreciate the sympathy, but please don't feel sorry for us.  

Trust us to make the decisions we think are best -- We've already had several people call us with suggestions, advice, names of doctors, diets we should try, questions we should ask, etc.  While we certainly appreciate everyone's concern, please understand that with cancer, every case is different.  The decisions we make with our doctor are based on the specific details of Peter's case.  Nobody wants to beat this more than we do, so please trust that every decision is made with a great deal of thought and consideration.

All in all, we'd like to thank everyone who has been there for us this past week.  We have truly been overwhelmed by your love and support!  I will do my best to keep this blog updated in between doctor appointments, schoolwork and taking care of the family.  We go for a second opinion at Vanderbilt tomorrow, so I hope to have some news for you then.

And here you have it!  Proof that Peter not only has a tumor, but also a brain!  Which is more shocking?  You decide.  (What did I tell you about the jokes?!)