I Trust the Timing Of My Life

Anticipation, Relief, & Joy. Plus a Mini Vacation & a Big Reality Check

Every 3 months, for the first year post surgery, I need to have an MRI of my brain to ensure everything is healing as expected. Every time I do them, they get easier. This is not to say they’re not easy (or fun for that matter). For those of you who have never had an MRI, imagine being in a coffin for 30 min to an hour and not moving. Sometimes I forget it’s ok to breathe, and have learned that deep breathing really actually helps (it will not affect the imaging).

There’s a lot of reasons why and how MRIs have gotten easier for me. About a month after I was released from the ICU/step down care unit, I began to meditate. And when I say meditate, I mean I spent majority of my days, for 60 days, doing meditations. And meditations of all types: movement, music, somatic (learning how to feel grounded and safe in your body), nature sounds, imagery, etc. The list goes on. I felt like a monk in training. But it worked, and felt good, so I kept listening (thanks Insight Timer).

While I no longer listen to meditations for the majority of my day, it was crucial for when I did. It eased, and often even took away my anxiety and PTSD. Medical trauma, no matter how well or not everything went, is real.

Within 30 days, I had taught my brain/body to “drop in” within 5 minutes. Easier said than done. My parents, who are meditators, and also two of the people I spent a lot of time with post all things hospital, were blown away. So was I. If meditation could help me that quickly, why not do it?

On Insight Timer, I’ve now meditated a total of 120 days for 14,000 minutes. That’s approximately 233 hours of meditation.

I now meditate either on my own, listen to other mediations that aren’t a part of Insight, and/or incorporate it into my daily yoga practice. And I’ll still turn back to Insight, just not as frequently.

My work through Insight really helped me in a lot of ways: how to ground myself and feel safe when I didn’t and/or don’t, how to tune into sounds and sensations that feel safe, and how to gain a sense of our world & universe that is much, much larger than my own.

Back to MRIs…

My meditation practice was key to my post surgery MRI’s. I’d memorized many of them, and during the MRI I’d rehearse the words to myself in my head. It didn’t matter if I forgot how it went, because I’d either recite parts of it and/or I’d associated the meditations with different images, people, and or places that were, and are, comforting to me.

Something else to know about me: I have a phobia of needles. I have had this phobia as far back as I can remember. I used to black out when I got my blood drawn. I no longer black out, and have become a pretty tough cookie when it comes to needles, but it’s still hard for me to look at a needle, whether I’m getting my blood drawn or whether they are putting an IV in my arm or hand for the contrast that is needed with the MRIs.

I’ve also learned to become a really good self advocate for myself. This is essential in the medical world, the world of visible disabilities, and in the world of invisible disabilities.

Here are some key 🗝️ ways that I’ve learned to become such a strong self advocate:

1. Always tell people what you need, even if it feels embarrassing or weird.
   • Example: I have a phobia of needles. I have blacked out in the past. I should be ok if I don’t look at the needle, take deep breaths, and think about something else. Feel free to distract me.
2. Never give up.
   • Example: I’m a hard stick (hard to draw my blood because my veins are thin and deep). I tell people this and then ask if they have access to a vein finder. This is a fancy special device/light that helps people to find veins. When I was in the hospital they told me they would have to go get one and it might take awhile. I said, “I can wait,” and with confidence. It did take time, but they got it and it made a huge difference. One and done!
3. Don’t be afraid to be yourself, no matter how anxious or scared you might feel in that moment.
   • Example: There were multiple times in the hospital I had anxiety, and I would often tell the nurses and or doctors that. They thanked me for telling them and immediately became much kinder and/or trauma-informed.

Even thought at this point I’ve had more MRIs than I’d like to count, (pre & post surgery) I still get anxious before every one. That being said, every MRI does become easier. Less angst, less worry, and less anticipation.

Every time they’re over, however, I’m on a natural high, even before I see/get the results. It’s one of those, “YES I did it…!” adrenaline rush moments.

Due to the fact that the images post MRI go through to my neuro-oncologist, Dr. Jennie Taylor, (another medical person on my team who is outstanding), almost immediately, there’s then the sudden dread of, “How’s everything going to look? Is my brain continuing to heal as expected or is there unexpected new growth?”

So far, the radiology results of every MRI I’ve had since surgery have been gold star status. My brain is continuing to heal, and will continue to heal until at least June of 2026.

Dr. Taylor reminded me that it typically takes up to a full year, for any person after having brain surgery, for the area that was resected (removed) to fully heal.

What I imagine my healing brain looks like and is surrounded by: love, light, and lavender.

I know that I’m lucky. There are a lot of people who receive brain surgery and then need intensive care (I needed it for 2 weeks between the ICU & step down care unit due to the unexpected allergic reaction to Dexamethasone). There are others who then need to go through chemotherapy, radiation, and/or drug treatment.

As of right now, I don’t need any of those aside from a medication that I’ve been slowly coming off (tapering) under medical-supervision. I’ll be completely off of it within the next few months, which will be a huge achievement to say the least.

I’ll write more about tapers in another post, but I will say this: tapering off a medication can be extremely difficult (even under fantastic medical-supervision). Ensuring you are on the right medication for you, especially in my case, was essential.

Gratitude:

Grateful would be an understatement. Based on the type of tumor I had, (Astrocytoma grade 2) Dr. Taylor doesn’t expect anything to begin to grow back. If it did, it would be 5 – 10 years from now.

For now, I’m not even letting myself think about that yet. One. Day. At. A. Time. And feeling deep gratitude each and every day (even on the hard days).

Joy:

So far, because of the fact that my MRIs post surgery have been gold star status, (especially after receiving the official radiology reports), I feel pure joy. The type of joy that one might feel when they’re high on drugs, but I don’t like the feeling of that type of high, so for me, it’s a natural high.

The type of high where it feels so damn good to be alive, living, feeling, seeing, being, & thriving. After my MRI on January 16, 2026 (the video at the beginning of this post), when we were sitting listening to the live music, my husband Ross leaned over to me and whispered, “For the first time since your surgery I feel like we are on a vacation.” This brought tears to my eyes, not only because it was true, but because I felt it too.

Vacations aren’t permeant though, at least for the majority of people, so for me, there’s always the moment after any vacation feeling when reality sets back in. And reality, whatever it looks like, is a part of life.

My reality after this past MRI hit the next evening. I called my mom crying. I felt like I should be feeling a way that I wasn’t. I felt guilt for not feeling the joy that I had felt Friday – Saturday morning. The reality & realization that I will need to get MRIs for the rest of my life set in and suddenly became very real.

After talking with my therapist about it, and texting/talking with a few of my close friends, I consider myself to be in a new stage of my healing journey. I know what’s real and what’s to come. Unfortunately, there’s definitely a lot of unknown.

For now though, I choose health, and will continue to choose health, no matter what it looks like, for the rest of my life.

Xx ❣️