tumore

ahebkoevhalev  asked:

I'm really concerned over your post about your kidney. I haven't been keeping up with you for a couple months. Are you doing okay? Do you need a kidney? I have 2.

No, as far as I know I don’t need a kidney. I scheduled a procedure to try and get rid of the tumor but they pushed it off until December 30th. If that doesn’t work then I will have to get my kidney removed, but I’m trying to stay positive.

Unfortunately, due to my medical issues I missed a chunk of school this semester. My counselor advised me to file a grievance petition but my school denied me, saying that my tumor apparently was not a serious enough medical condition to them. I didn’t hear from them for a while after that, until today, out of the blue I received an email saying my school is demanding $3,100 in 10 days. I have no idea who could have that much money on such a short notice. I’ve booked a handful of commissions to pay my rent this month (which is covered) but this fee for school is too much.

I talked with some friends and family today and they advised me to set up a gofundme so I can pay my school this money. I feel like shit for having to do this but this has blindsided me. I’m not sure what else to say, but if anyone is able to help me try to reach this goal in ten days I’d greatly appreciate it.

As far as I know my parents are able to cover my sudden medical bills, and I am working on enough commissions for rent, and working between that. It’s just this school fee.

I’m sorry for having to make this post, guys. I’ll make it up to you sometime with something, like a request stream or something like that.

The GOFUNDME is here.

-Orange

Becky's Brain Surgery Fund

Hey guys, if you can, please help my friend’s family this holiday season


Here’s a bit more about her sister-in-law:

“I was diagnosed with a brain tumor over two years ago. It is a meningioma , which are slow growing, mostly benign tumors. (It is located in from of the PONS at the top of my brainstem.)The tumor is growing and symptomatic, causing facial pain due to trigeminal neuralgia, so we will be moving forward with brain surgery, possibly as early as this spring.  

We will be faced with some financial challenges the surgery and recovery brings as I am the primary breadwinner for our family. We are hoping beyond hope that through the generosity of others, we can raise funds to help provide us with a buffer during the surgery and recover time, which is dependent on a lot of variables that will be determined based on the outcome of the surgery.

More About Us:

I’m a mother of two young, lovely girls, and have been married to the love of my life for 15 years. I work full-time as a librarian and also do volunteer work with most precious, rambunctious and amazing children every week.

My husband is an amazing man; he has spent the last few years working part time and staying at home with our daughters. He is also going to school to change careers and help improve his chances for full time employment, which is so highly competitive and hard to come by these days.  


We are grateful for every single day that we have together, with so much of our future unknown. We hope that we can provide a positive impact on the world through our commitment to helping others as well.

Thank you for helping out. If you are unable to donate, then we would appreciate any prayers or warm fuzzy thoughts. :)

Any unused funds or funds that go above the goal will be donated to Meningioma Mommas for medical research. They are the most amazing group that funds research for meningiomas (which is severely underfunded) and provides a thriving support forum for folks like me that have this type of tumor. I would be lost without them.

Thank you for your time, please donate/share if you can!

2

so, i never really put it out here on tumblr what i’ve been through recently. in september a large tumor was found in my chest. in the pic you can see the large mass in my upper chest. i was extremely fortunate and lucky that it was benign and in october i had open chest surgery to have it removed. i’m all good now and back to supplying fan art to everyone.💕

It wasn’t Rocket Science, It was just Brain Surgery

It has officially been 10 months since my brain surgery to partially remove a central brain tumor. Emotionally dealing with the recovery on a psychological level has been the biggest issue. It has been a hard topic to really talk about and difficult to explain to others, which is why I have found it easier to shrug the surgery off as no big deal. I also feel self-conscious about my experience to a certain degree. But lately I have been thinking about how reading other people’s stories about brain surgery recovery helped me in a way no one else could have: explaining what to expect, if certain things are normal or not, the do’s and don’ts of recovery and finding the personal motivation to recover. I have learnt a lot about myself and have had an epiphany about life and identity. I realised that your entire being - who you are - is shaped by your brain. You are because you can think and feel; and you can’t do that without your brain. Your whole body is just there to protect and utilise your brain. I have decided that it might not only be cathartic for me to write my own story, but could also be encouraging and useful for others.

On the 2nd of February 2016, my world was changed forever. After months of going to the doctors rooms, homeopaths and a chiropractor in order to treat - or at least find out the cause of - severe migraines, random projectile vomiting, pins and needles, constant fatigue and sometimes blurred vision, I finally found out from a specialist that I have a brain tumor. Sitting in the waiting room and seeing the nurses facial responses to my MRI scan was unsettling. Waiting rooms are undoubtedly a symbol of anxiousness. I remember not knowing what I was about to be told, but feeling the tangible sense of unease fill the room. I could never have predicted how much my life was about to change.

The news was surreal, one of those “this happens to other people, not to me” moments. I didn’t grasp then what I was being told. After a couple of days back at home, I returned to hospital where I met the neurosurgeon who was to perform my operation. He carefully explained the procedure; cut open my head, remove the veins of the tumor, cut down the middle of my brain, drain the growth then cut out what they can. Funny how the first time I cried was when he told me that I would be missing three months of varsity.

I don’t remember much after that. I had the surgery on the 9th of February and had been in a deep sleep for a couple of days. I was told that I had two grand-mal seizures and an aneurysm; my left side was lame for about 9 days. Waking up and becoming conscious really are two different things. I had been told stories about being awake and having conversations with people, but I do not remember any of those experiences. During the process of becoming conscious, I was becoming aware of how different everything felt. How difficult it was to perform simple tasks and that everything over-stimulated me to the point of exhaustion. As I was slowly becoming aware of my body and what I had just been through – knowing the long row of stitches across my head is evidence of the trauma – I became responsive and emotive.  I was experiencing fear, anxiety, restlessness, nervousness, worry, doubt, and a lingering unknown. There was a massive flood of emotion for a couple of weeks owing to the realization that I was alive and had survived something so traumatic. Then I couldn’t sleep. I was so scared. The nurses would bathe me and talk to me until I calmed down. I remember having asked to brush my teeth at 3 A.M and the nurse said no. That was the first time I cried since the operation. I think I cried every day after that. They don’t tell you if you will eventually stop being so emotional; and if so, when?

My biggest shock came when the physiotherapist asked me to move my legs up and down and I could only move my right one. I would lie there for ages thinking, “move”, and picturing my left leg sliding upwards and downwards. But nothing would happen. The frustration experienced in that moment was something I had never felt before. The disconnection between my thoughts and actions and that loss of control was absolutely terrifying. Looking at me, you would never think I was having such an intense internal struggle. I may have just been lying there, but I was spending every waking moment trying to overcome my body’s resistance to movement through thought. I felt trapped inside my own body. That’s when I realised that you and your body are so separate. I experienced this again in situations where I would grab things tightly in my left hand, clenched fist, and be unable to let go. I had grabbed a nurse once, and no matter how much I wanted to let go, my hand was not listening. This was a similar side effect to split brain patients; my left side of my body was not listening to the right hemisphere of my brain.

The realization that I stuttered, and spoke very slowly, frustrated me. I would try to speak as little as possible and would grow despondent upon hearing myself, as it did not coincide with what was going on inside my mind. I had uncontrollable tremors in my hands and arms. An occupational therapist tested me with some basic mathematics and memory exercises. It was harder than I thought it would be. I felt like a child as I struggled to identify shapes and objects. At times I would be okay then suddenly hit a complete blank and panic. She said this is called a “brain stutter” and occasionally this still happens to me now. But I have learnt to take a moment to think of something else until I am settled enough to return to the previous task. I have forgotten things. But I don’t know what things I have forgotten until I am presented with a person that I should know or story that I should remember, but don’t.

Learning to walk was the strangest feeling. I never knew how much thought and co-ordination goes into something so “easy”. I noticed how my concentration during such a seemingly simple task was affected so greatly by the environment. I became aware of how different walking is in a crowded space  versus an empty space; a well lit space versus a dim space; stairs versus the ground, ect.

I then changed my mind-set so that instead of feeling frustration or upset when I was struggling or unable to do things, I would celebrate small victories. Victories such as eating without messing, going to the bathroom on my own, putting on my slippers by myself, using a zip or fastening a button and picking things up with my left hand. These are small achievable goals that kept me positive and motivated me to recover.

These internal struggles continue – even now - unbeknownst to those around me. My thinking is definitely slower than before and it takes me longer to process and respond to things – sometimes this can be overwhelming, even if I am the only one aware of it. This is where insecurity comes in to play; at times I wonder if I am being perceived as “normal” in social situations. This then makes me feel like I should explain to to strangers that I am still recovering so that my behavior can be understood. I don’t know then if people are looking at me with curiosity, concern or confusion. Sometimes I feel strong in what I have overcome, and at times I feel so alone in my experience. I learnt to go easy on myself, and take things slow.  My happiness comes from being myself in comfortable spaces; a renaissance that is truly liberating. I say renaissance because there is a clear distinction of myself and life before and after the surgery. Things feel different. Things are different. There is no way to tell if what I feel/ felt was normal. But my new normal involves an inner peace that does not take life for granted.

I didn’t know that It would take this long. I didn’t know that I would have such difficulty placing my own personality. I didn’t know that I would feel so foreign in my own body, so much so that I didn’t like looking at myself in mirrors or photographs. I wasn’t okay with being this person. That I would put on so much weight from the medication and the lack of mobility. Or that I would be so fearful of old symptoms returning and that I would feel a sense of guilt for surviving something that so many others didn’t.

The surgery is physically over, but mentally, I am still processing everything that had happened. I could go on about the lessons I have learnt and how much I have grown. But instead I will say that I am thankful my surgery went so well and that I was where I needed to be at that time. Now I am able to adjust to new strategies and am dealing with these overwhelming feelings in healthy ways.

3

Good news from the Lumpy Cat Club!! Maddy (first kitty) had a surgery to remove a Very Concerning Lump and it’s not cancer. It was an abscess. Now she has a drainage tube and a fancy sock.

Now, some of u may remember Tiny’s mammary cancer diagnosis from last year and how she had a row of nipples removed. Welllll more lumps showed up in her other row. They were cancerous but the ‘good’ news is that they’re NOT lymphocytic. Just more mammary tumors. She had her other row of nips removed and gets a break from her chemo. Hopefully now that she’s nip free, more tumors won’t develop.

anonymous asked:

What are your thoughts about all the other flames though? How do they backfire (aside from Clouds getting a lot of tumors I guess)?

how did you know i have stuff for every single (sky) flame type, what gave you that idea!!

things get less and less sciency as we go down the list because i get a little tired of being repetitive, haha….. mostly for IIB again, because. Because.

really really long longpost. i got this ask a while ago and have been sitting on the last three flame types for A While, so here we go!! sun is not included because it was in a separate post. feel free to adopt any of this or ask for clarification because i kind of zoomed through some of it.

Keep reading

“The vet says there has been no change in the size of my tumor. While shrinkage would have been better, no change is still considered a success! And since the meds don’t make me sick, I will keep getting them to prevent my tumor from growing. That’s right… This is long-term chemotherapy! So I get to keep playing and getting lots of treats and loves for as long as possible!
.
Thanks for all the kind words, encouragement and donations! I’m so glad we get to keep playing together for a long time to come!”

Made with Instagram

anonymous asked:

Hey, any tips to surviving college? Especially for those with physical and mental issues? And like making friends in college? Do things really get better after school? Like I heard it was supposed to get tons better after high school but college doesn't seem to be as good as people act like it is. Also how to you flirt with the same gender without making people uncomfortable?

Here’s my honest take. I do think that things get better after high school. My college years were the toughest time of my life. I had severe Bipolar Disorder, a brain tumor, gastroparesis, problems with gender identity and sexual orientation, and a number of other issues to contend with. But in the end, I graduated. So here’s my perspective.

Some people still haven’t really grown up in college, but you have a much larger pool. The chances that you’re going to find someone you’re compatible with are higher, and you also have the agency to spend time with them however you want.

I went to a school with 40k undergraduate students. This made socializing difficult, with class sizes roughly 200-300. I befriended most people through clubs (extracurriculars) or smaller niche classes (like one studying LGBT representation through film). Try to sit next to the same people if you like them. Just that familiarity may make people more likely to talk to you. Try to make friends with your friends’ friends. I’ve had times where I’ve made a good ten friends just from one person. If you have the time, campus jobs can help too. You meet everyone.

Extracurriculars were a huge, huge part for me. I met a lot of people through my campus’s LGBT group (attended 1-2 times a week), which I loved. Some people used it for support, some as a singles group, and some both. When I was testing out the water with people who were the same sex (but possibly straight), sometimes I’d make these “joking not joking” comments and push the envelope just a little more if the feedback was good. I’d slip my orientation organically into the conversation, and sometimes I’d get a good response.

Volunteering committees are also great. Many people there are more mature, more understanding, and more empathetic, which is especially important when you have health issues. Participating was good for my depression. It gave me a sense of purpose and doubled as a social event. Anime club was also helpful, but at least in my experience, some people there were really socially awkward and expressed it by either not understanding or not caring about boundaries and being clingy. I also met some friends through group therapy.

One thing I would say is very important to surviving college with physical and mental issues: self-discipline. Which I realize is tough as hell because that’s one of the first things mental illness will mess with. Basically, do the opposite of what your mind is telling you to do. If you get a break, and your body and mind are actually playing semi-nice for a bit, spend that time wisely. Because if you squander those times, all the work will pile up and leave you totally overwhelmed. Can’t tell you how many breakdowns I had because of that.

I made the mistake of playing the part of the social butterfly and befriending dozens of people when I started off freshman year, losing steam, sinking into a depressive swing, and going without seeing people for a month or more. Especially freshman year, people are so quickly befriending everyone else that if you stay out of view for too long, the world moves on without you. Even if you have to shove yourself out there once every other week, do it, because it keeps you on the radar as someone they’ll invite next time. It’s better to be consistent over time than go to a bunch of events back to back and burn out. As much as you can, force yourself to shower regularly and keep your hygiene up.

Time management is also very important. If you’re like me, you need downtime to piss away on the internet/Tumblr, but also think about balancing friends, family, self-care, school, and your job if you have one.

Studying ahead was crucial. I could never count on my body or mind to work when I needed it to. Procrastination will kill you. I would have never graduated if I hadn’t started studying for finals up to 3 weeks before. I would usually have finished about 90% of the studying 2 days before the final.

Anyhow, I realize this is a novel-sized response, and many of the things I suggested sound about as fun as jamming a screwdriver into your eye (finish studying days before the final?!). But that’s how I got through, and hey, despite all the bullshit, I had a lot of fun.

Sapete che c'è?
Che la gente ha rotto veramente il cazzo.
“Non fumare, ti fa male. Muori. Ictus, invecchiamento della pelle, tumori.”
“Non bere, ti fa male. Muori. Diventerai alcolizzato, ti viene la cirrosi.” e chi più ne ha più ne metta.
Ma che discorsi che mi scaraventano la minchia che non ho, davvero, e scusate la volgarità.
Potrei morire attraversando la strada, nel sonno, mentre sono in macchina, potrei semplicemente cadere da una cazzo di sedia, prenderla male e morire.
Si può morire in qualsiasi momento, potrei morire anche adesso, mentre sto scrivendo questo post.
Quindi, perché dovrei passare la vita a negarmi quello che voglio fare per non morire, quando potrei morire in qualsiasi istante?
La vita è così, ci sei, e un attimo dopo non ci sei più.
Perciò che la gente si faccia i cazzi suoi e smetta di mettere ostacoli nella vita delle altre persone, perché ognuno la propria vita se la vive come vuole.
Grazie, prego, ciao.
—  (elefantinellostomaco)
Mi presento. Ho un tumore e mi chiamo Maria. Ho un tumore e ho 17 anni. Ho un tumore punto.
Ho sempre creduto che il cervello fosse l’unica cosa in me che funzionasse. Mi sbagliavo.
Ho un tumore, al cervello.
E adesso aspetto la morte.
L’aspetto per dirgli due parole.
“Ciao morte. Ho 17 anni. Mi piacciono gli abbracci, l’amore e i gelati. Amo l’odore della benzina, delle officine e l’azzurro.
Odio la cattiveria, le urla ma soprattutto te. E so che non dovrei ma ti odio. Perché mi strappi via da qui? Perché ora? 17 anni. Ho solo 17 anni. Non ho mai dato il primo bacio. Non ho mai tenuto la mano di un ragazzo. Non ho ancora preso la patente. Non ho finito la scuola.
Lasciami qui, non portarmi via.
Non ora.
—  Federica Maneli, Storie mai scritte

Ho sempre amato le stelle.
Da bambina mi ritrovavo in giardino, di notte, a guardarle.
La mamma usciva stringendosi nel cappotto e mi riportava in casa.
All'inizio mi sgridava, poi ci fece l'abitudine.
Un giorno le chiesi quante stelle ci fossero nell'universo, e lei mi rispose che erano tante quante i bambini felici.


Quando avevo 13 anni mi regalarono il mio primo telescopio. Passavo ore ed ore nella mia stanza, affacciata alla finestra.
Ero giunta alla conclusione che le stelle erano molte ma molte di più di tutta la popolazione del mondo.
Ma non volevo dirlo alla mamma.
Allora le chiesi perché le stelle cadenti si chiamavano così. Lei mi rispose che quando moriva una persona buona, uno di quelle amate, le stelle piangevano lasciando una scia.

A 16 anni avevo una libreria pieni di libri sul cielo e passavo ogni sera in giardino a fantasticare.
Cosa c'era lassù?
Ma quando un giorno tornai dentro casa e trovai la mamma per terra che si teneva il naso sanguinante, capii che forse avevo esagerato a perdermi in sciocchezze.
Chiusi in cantina il mio telescopio.
Alla mamma dissi che avevo cambiato hobby.

Avevo 19 anni quando fu ricoverata la prima volta, mentre il liquido della flebo le entrava in corpo io la intrattenevo raccontandole quello che mi girava per la testa.
Finché mi chiese delle stelle.
Ed io con un sorriso, iniziai a raccontarle delle comete e delle meteore.
Quella sera andai a riprendere il telescopio e riaprii i libri.
La mamma non mi chiese mai niente, ma da quel giorno mi guardò con uno sguardo diverso.


A 23 anni, chiusa in un ascensore aspettando di arrivare al piano giusto, ripensai a quella volta in cui la mamma mi disse che le stelle si divertivano a mettersi in posizioni diverse per formare le costellazioni.
Arrivata nella sua stanza, la salutai e le sistemai la bandana in testa.
E come ultima richiesta, volle che le parlai ancora del cielo.
Ormai avevo capito che le stelle erano 3 seguite da 23 zeri e che le costellazioni non erano giochi, ma le 88 parti in cui è suddivisa la sfera celeste.
Ma non glielo dissi mai.

La lasciai quella sera.
E quando varcai la porta d'uscita dell'ospedale, vidi una stella cadente.
La mia mamma aveva ragione, quando muore una persona buona, le stelle piangono.

—  Sono passati cinque anni da quando una delle persone più importanti della mia vita se ne è andata.
Se ne è andata e non l'ha scelto.
E volevo ricordarti così.
Ti voglio bene.
Voglio parlarvi di una ragazza e della sua storia, ho già la pelle d'oca, la ricordo a memoria: il suo viso, le sue labbra, la sua intelligenza, mi innamorai dei suoi discorsi non dell'apparenza.
Nei corridoi dell'istituto dove lei studiava ogni ragazzo la chiamava ma non si fermava.
La classica ragazza seria che sa ciò che vuole, quella che non te la dà, se si affeziona ti dà il cuore.
Aveva il mondo che girava intorno al suo sorriso, sembra banale ma è la cosa più bella che ho visto.
Le altre ragazze giudicavano, parlavano, avevano i rimorsi di quanti maschi scopavano, lei era diversa, fottutamente diversa e chiedergli di uscire era battaglia persa. Non si curava dell'aspetto dei ragazzi,
non si innamorava di nessuno: nè ricchi, nè poveracci.
Presi coraggio e andai, ogni tanto parlavamo del più del meno senza esagerare mia, le piaceva Tesla, le riempivo la testa, ricordo il libro sul complotto che le regalai.
Stavamo spesso insieme, non ero come gli altri, lo capì semplicemente dai miei sguardi. Le parlavo dell’ hip-hop e del mio sogno nel cassetto, mi rincuorò dicendo “un giorno tu farai un concerto.”
Fumavamo naturale fuori scuola sulle scale per sentirci più ribelli ancora le chiudevo male. All'improvviso ci baciammo, poi scappò piangendo,
è passato molto tempo ma non scordo quel momento.
Non l'ho rivista più, purtroppo è andata via, mi parlava dei suoi sogni e non della sua malattia.
La porterò nel cuore, fine della storia, amate chi vi ama, può essere l'ultima volta.
—  Rocco Hunt
5

This is my handsome boyfriend Cody. For some reason, I always look at him like he’s a piece of candy (or God’s gift to Earth) when we take pictures together.

He is the smartest, funniest, most interesting person I’ve ever had the pleasure of calling my best friend.

Two years ago, we were told that Cody had a stage three sarcoma. The survival rate for a stage three sarcoma is 56%. Cody pushed through and beat his cancer after a total of three painstaking surgeries, two weeks in the hospital, weekly doctor’s appointments, numerous PET/CT scans, and an entire month of radiation.

In November, about a year since his last radiation appointment, the sucker came back. It’s grown a great deal since then. The results of his biopsy came back today as positive for cancer.

Cody is my best friend. I would do anything for him. We’ve been together for three years, and in the time it took us to get where we are now, we’ve been through so much unbelievable crap that I’m surprised we made it out in one piece, but we did. I have no doubt we’ll pull through this again.

But we need help. Cody’s medical bills racked up so quickly that we can’t even keep track of them all. They’re being sent to collections almost every single day. Cody is neck-deep in debt, and he isn’t even 23 yet. The medical bills never stop, and they’re not going to get any better with the recent unfortunate news.

If you can spare $5, it would mean the world to us. And I know, money is tight right now for almost everyone. If you can’t afford to donate, please read and share this story. Share it on your Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, and any other social networks you have. Please share this. Spread it like wildfire. Signal boost the crap out of this. It is of great importance.

Cody is the most beautiful, kind soul I’ve ever met. He would give the shirt off his back to someone, please, help me return the favor.

I know this post isn’t funny or aesthetically pleasing. I know a lot of you have themed blogs, and that’s fine. Don’t share it here then. Take it to Facebook and Twitter. Share the link. You can even delete it after a few hours, but please share it.

You can read the full story and donate here. If you can’t afford it, please don’t feel bad. Just spread this. Everywhere you can. Please.