This year has been… well, a lot. In July, Phillip and I adopted three kids from foster care, and we were finally settling into the beautiful chaos of becoming a family of five. Then, just when we thought the plot might calm down for a second, surprise. My brain decided to add its own twist.
Back in May, I had what everyone confidently labeled a “panic attack.” Spoiler alert. It was not. After months of “let’s try this pill” and “you’re probably just stressed; you adopted three kids,” I finally pushed for an MRI in October. Turns out it was not stress. It was a large brain tumor. Like one the size of an egg. So now I get to say the sentence no millennial social media specialist expects to say: “Actually, brain rot might be a real thing.”
Only me. Truly.
We are still waiting on full pathology, but treatment begins soon. Chemo pills. Radiation. The whole lineup. And as for the expenses ahead… your guess is as good as ours.
But here is the wild part. God has been unbelievably steady through all of this. On the morning I was admitted to the hospital for more testing, I found a post that said “Be stubborn in your hope,” and it hit me right in the soul. My way of saying, “I will not fall into despair. I am busy choosing joy.”