Due to the many comments from a previous blog entry. A link to the original blog entry. I decided to make this a permanent page. This is for all patients, family members or loved ones of someone dealing with a tumor. Let me get the ball rolling… repost your comment if you want. Tell that tumor off!
Sup Brain Tumor
My name is Eric. I’m a 31 year old guy originally from Michigan. We met in Sept 2005. We had a 1.2 in 100,000 chance of meeting. Because of you I haven’t been able to work, go surfing, run, swim, or bike. My balance is all messed up because of you. You scared the hell out of me, my parents, my family, and my friends. “F†you. Actually, thanks for making me stronger, smarter, and more focused. You picked the wrong guy to mess with. There are a bunch of smart people doing research to fight you. It’s only a matter of time before before someone finds a cure to fight you. Your days are numbered.
Sincerely,
Eric AKA “Galvezâ€
For all you patients with tumors or loved ones of patients with tumors this is your chance to “ventâ€. Leave a comment. I will not edit anything, but I do have one rule: PLEASE REFRAIN FROM USING RACIALLY, CULTURALLY, SEXUALLY, OR RELGIUOSLY DEROGATORY WORDS! Remember anyone can read this. Thanks. SCROLL DOWN AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!
29 Responses to “Tell that tumor off!”
If you’re looking for inspirational people, take a look at all the responses of people telling off their tumors. Honestly, I think I get a lot of courage and strength from all these “mAss Kickers”. Maybe you will too. Although we may have different symptoms, we are all on the same team, fighting for a common goal! Join us in our “battle”.
Tumors Suck! Tell that tumor off!
Ditto, “Tumors suck!”
Screw You Tumour- you are outta my head on February 21st!!!!
Although you have brought a lot of bad.. a lot of bad.. my MOM will Survive.. You have also showed us the Power of LOVE.. of FIGHTING and of SUPPORT…
So forget cha and thank ya!
Damn straight, I told that tumor off too. Now I am doing chemo and it sucks but I like to share your outlook. Cancer can’t take control, I am in control and there are a lot of exciting things ahead…like my move to CA this summer after I grauate here in TX. I knew my 30’s would be exciting, never knew they’d be so life changing.
I am 33 yrs. old. I had an awake crainiotomy to remove a brain tumor in Feb. 2005. I am (obviously)thankful that it’s gone, but pissed off that I started having seizures after the surgery, not before!
My 2 favorite comments from Drs.
**”Well, if you’re gonna have a tumor, this is a good one to have.”
**(even better)..”Well, you can consider yourself lucky, most people don’t know what they’re going to die from.”
!!!!!
Dear Tumor,
Me and Dr. V, evicted you out of my frontal lobe one year ago today. You were scary, but I bet that rusty ice cream scooper the doctor used made you pee your pants. It was painful, but I bet being taken apart piece by piece was too.
You left some of your things in my brain. If you decide to grow back, I will get so Chuck Norris on you, Amnesty International will be outside my house picketing.
Ha ha ha! You referenced Chuck Norris and amnesty international in the same breath! You tell em’ Dante!
Tumor Pit – Go find somewhere else (not someone else) to hide! You may think you can beat me, but I am sure I can get you gone – preferably by will, not by the knife!
When my doctor phoned and left a message that I had a brain tumor, I was floored and he said the same thing that Samantha’s Dr. said “Well, if you’re gonna have a tumor, this is a good one to have.â€!!! Mine is on the Pituitary stalk and the other classic the doctor said was “I cannot believe you can see, it is right close to your optic nerve, call me when your peripheral vision is affected!~”
I know I need to tackle you, Mr. Tumor, I am not sure what is next and ignoring you won’t cut it!
Samantha, that is exactly what my husband’s doctor told him, “if you have to have a tumor, this is the best one to have”.
You stinkin menigioma that came univited into Christopher’s head, you SUCK! I hate everything that you stand for..the seizures, the Parkinson’s which you brought on.
And the doctors that make these comments are incredible too……I guess that it is not so bad as long as it is not you or a person you love. It’s not a “bad” tumor as long as it’s not in YOUR Brain!
My mom is fighting what she has decided to call “Nebulous The Tumor” – I will be there for her and I can’t wait for you to be gone and out of our lives forever. You can’t beat the Nerell family on this one.
We should declare war on cancer, not each other. Now that’s a foreign policy I can support!
It has been ten years after I kicked the meningioma out of my head. There is life after brain surgery fight on.
You come into my life and in one night, turn it all upside down. But, I am still here. You ruined my life while I was still in college, but let me tell ya, your gonna have to do alot more than that
Unlike most of you, I have no tumor of my own to tell off…the tumor that I hope is burning in (insert whatever fire-y place you believe in *HERE*) destroyed my brother’s life, and subsequently the lives of his family.
My brother Brian was diagnosed with a glioblastoma tumor in May of 2004, when he was 30 years old. he had suffered through 6 months of crippling headaches, numerous scans, medications and days of work missed before he collapsed in the early morning on May 5th. dr’s originally thought it was a stroke, but the intitial operation proved otherwise. we were given the worst of news…it was brain cancer an dthe worst kind.
Brian underwent 3 different surgeries. the first surgery took him weeks to even wake up, and several more weeks for him to comprehend what was going on and be able to speak, walk and function. the 2nd surgery was a breeze…he was up and requesting starbucks within hours. the 3rd surgey he never came home from. he spent 3 months in a hospital bed, with seizures, a blood clot, meningitis and various other infections. on octover 6th, one month shy of his 31st birthday he was called to heaven leaving behind his parents, myself, our brother chris, and a 6 year old son.
i hope that each and every one of you kicks some brain tumor ass! i pray that none of you have to go through what my family did. stay strong and don’t let those tumors control you!
I am 56yrs.old..Have a wonderful husband Charlie and 4 grown sons and 6 beautiful grandchildren…I have had a middle fossa Meningioma debulked in NY Cornell on June 21,2006…I have NF1.
Now my sons are having symptoms..I pray that I didn’t pass this on…My mother died when I was only 2 yrs. old and she was only 27..Perhaps of a brain tumor..In those days there wasn’t any MRI’s.. Lately, my new MRI came back and it seems like theirs more things going on in my head…I’m not going to allow myself to be afraid..I’m not going to lay in bed and let it get me down…I want answers why we get these and can’t get a cure for it…WHY?..
Why do we have to suffer especially pass it on to our children?…And grandchildren?…I ask God to help each of us in this journey..Please give us a cure soon…
I m not mad at God – we were delt this – my husband found out at age 75 that he has a tumor – gmb 4 – we had it removed or else they say he would have been dead in 3 months. that was Dec 7th – it is now feb 10th – he is going through radiation and temodor and doing well. I look at him and can’t believe what is going on in his head. He looks at me and can’t believe what is going on in his head. We are so thankful for the time we have had together – our 2nd marriage – 35 years – and we know that the end will come to all of us on this earth —– but only on this earth – life goes on forever and we are not afraid and know we will always be together. We have talked so much and he knows and so does anyone who knows us – when the time comes for either one of us we will each be taking a part of the other with and leaving a part behind.
I am a 42 year old female that had what i prefer to call ‘an unfortunate hospitalization’….in the form of a craniotomy for a bi-parietal saggital menengioma, as my neuro described it, ‘about the size and shape of a pear.’ I hate pears. Especially in my head. Didn’t quite expect to wake up the way I did, no feeling from navel down. Two weeks in the neuro-icu and a month in a rehab facility….hoo boy! Extensive physical therapy had me home in 30 days with a walker. Kudos to my physical therapist, Diabolical Dave, who learned to tap into my anger. (And you’d be happy to know brutha, that I could probably now stand on one foot long enough to kick you in the shin like I always wanted to!) Seven years later, I am on my feet with just a little help from a generic ankle brace to support my drop-foot….more of a reminder than anything. My balance still sucks and I’m a bit of a gimp, but I’m living and breathing and have had the determination to see my babies grow up. They are now 11 and 14….and every now and again on crabby days they swear I’m “due back at the lab to have my bolts tightened”….
I am 51 years old and married for 27 years. It is almost 5yrs since I had my brain tumor removed – now that’s something to celebrate!!!
Like all of you I’ve gone through all the challenges that comes with a brain tumor.
Giving up isn’t an option. I was 47 years old at the time of diagnosis. I have an incredible wife and two wonderful daughters. I want to grow old with my wife and see my daughters live happy fulfilled lives. And you know what? It is happening. Last year my eldest daughter graduated from Law School and is a candidate attorney at one of the top Law Firms in Cape Town whilst my younger daughter is a 2nd year Med School student who will make a fine doctor when she graduates in 4 yrs time. As for my wife and I – we are truly grateful for opportunity to continue the enjoyment of a wonderful marriage.
So – goodbye tumor, hello life and THANK YOU, GOD!!!
i hate you brain tumor…..i hate everything about you…get out of my friends head …….you have changed everything, just when i thought u were gone… i hear you are back…i hate you so much………
Wow, that looks familiar.
My skull is shaped a bit different and my tumor is about 3/4 the size of yours, but… same spot.
Lovely.
Like your name too. 🙂
They call me Harry Potter now, which is totally fine by me. I have a wicked horseshoe shaped scar and a somewhat hindered memory…but I finished my senior year of high school…brain tumor, surgery, recovery, and all! At 16, it was a little hard to grasp why I would be spending my senior homecoming in a hospital bed instead of on the dance floor…but in the end, everything worked out…except for the time when I accidentally referred to my neurosurgeon as “McDreamy†and the seizure that brought one of my friends to my house as a paramedic…at 1 in the morning…a week before graduation…perfect! Now I’m about to head off to college and I’m ready to live my life with a new strength and passion—I’m ready to make a difference in the world. So thank you brain tumor…you gave me a run for my money…but I beat you… Hasta la vista, baby!!
I’m glad you’re gone TUMOR! And don’t you come back like you did in my friend Mike’s head!!!!! Mike didn’t survive. One of the first things to happen was the inability to walk, so I ran a 5k for him last SAT. Stay away! Watch out, I fight hard!!!!!!!!
Ha Ha…and I thought I was being original when I did my “Myspace blog” Doesn’t matter…Ill say it again for all of us….F*#k You Tumor…
~E~
I was introduced to my friend “Pynki” on May 9th, 2007 and said goodbye to him on May 30th, 2007. Pynki was approximately 3cm meningioma, benign. There are times when I’m not sure how I really feel about it all. I have survived, but the deficits make things very difficult for me. I even set up a myspace for Pynki…(http://www.myspace.com/pynki_the_tumor ) which I will at some point update sometime. I had great ideas when it all started and I still want to accomplish those things, it is just going to take me much longer than originally planned. Pynki was a part of me for some 30 years or more… it’s hard to say goodbye sometimes. Fear of loosing the familiar and fear of the unknown future. I admire you Erik, you are a great strength to us all.
My tumor’s name is Turk. It’s bizarre I know…but, it’s easier to tell Turk to suck it than to say brain tumor…suck it. 😉 I have no doubt that I’ll kick Turk’s ass…it’s just a matter of time. F you Turk. You’re going down!!!
I was diagnosed in 2005 and told that my alien was inoperable. So, I got that really cool stuff called radiation. The little crapper is now back at me again, trying to take my vision and my independence, my balance, and my mental stability….but no friggin way!!! My dukes are up and I’m ready to throw down!! Mine is a benign meningioma too, my MRI person said that if she was going to have a brain tumor, it would be the one that I have……..well, she can damn well have it……lol. You go Galvez!!
Your days are numbered, tuma!
At the end of my second semester in college I began experiencing severe headaches and throwing up. I had just bought a house the previous October. BOUGHT a house. At the age of 19. Approximatly 8-9 months later I was forced to sell when I was forced into the hospital after being diagnosed with a polycycstic astrocytoma (spell check?) about the size of a golf ball in my third ventricle. It is amazing how I was in a better mood going through a year of complete hell (6 months of surgery and six months of rehabilitation) than I am now. It’s different how strange it is when you have to learn how to live life again. When you go from a student with a 4.0 gpa to a student with a 2.1, pondering whether you should drop out or not because nothing seems to be getting any better. In the hospital we’d joke around. We named the tumor bobby so we could use the ever-awesome line from Hank Hill, “Damnit, Bobby!”. I REALLY REALLY want to graduate from nursing school so I can help others, but I don’t know that I will. For this all I have to say is “Damnit, BOBBY!!!!.” I don’t know how life will work out for me, but at least I can lay in bed at night knowing that Bobby is probably hanging out either in a Lab of some kind, or better yet the County dump in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area. Have a nice life, Bobby da’ tumah!!