Trina's Story

Trina's Story

I'm not really sure where to start, but when I was little, the doctors told my Mother who adopted me that I was visually impaired and I would eventually lose my sight.

My Mother, understandably, was in shock, but nevertheless, never gave up on me. She always had my back and loved me unconditionally.
One of the doctors told her that I would never walk or talk.
When I was 4 years old, my mother and I walked into the doctor’s office together.  She told me that his mouth was gaping open with shock.
She proceeded to tell him that this is what tender loving care can do.
They had told me that I would lose my eyesight later on, and I eventually did lose it due to glaucoma, congenital cataracts, and nystagmus, but it's always worse for someone else, and at least I know what colours look like, a rainbow and a blue sky. 
My Bio Mom drank when she was pregnant with me and that's why I developed FAS, Fetal Alcohol Syndrome.
I'm not bitter towards my Bio Mom because she only did what she knew how to do, and she gave me up to a wonderful mother who raised me to be the person that I am, and who loved me unconditionally.
Unfortunately, she had Paranoid Schizophrenia, and the mental illness took hold. She committed suicide 16 years ago.
I wish that she was with me right now while I'm going through this journey, but I know that she is watching over me where she is.
A couple of weeks ago, I had one seizure on Sunday and another on Monday. On the Monday, I went to the hospital where they did a bunch of tests.  The doctor came into the room, and even though I can't see, I could tell that something was very wrong.  He proceeded to tell me that I had a mass in my head and that they were sending me over to the QE2 hospital in Halifax to get an MRI.
I didn't know what to think, except I was very scared.
To fast forward a little, they did the MRI and they determined that I have a meningioma brain tumour in the frontal lobe of my brain.
I can be okay one minute and cry the next, and that's because, as you know, the frontal lobe controls emotion and until they take the tumour out, I'm going to be unpredictably weepy.  I don't like that part of it at all, because if it were my choice, I wouldn't cry, but the tears just start coming.
I have some people telling me to keep my chin up, and I'm trying, but it's hard to accept something when you don't know what the end result is going to be. At least it's not cancer and I'm so grateful for that. :D
The head of Neurosurgery is coming back on August 17, 2015, and he is going to decide the best course of action. 
If they decide to operate, I will lose my smell and taste, and that part makes me sad, but at least I'll be alive. I'm a fighter, and I've gone through a lot in my life, and I will not let this tumour have power over me.  I will go down kicking and screaming and rise above this!!!
I wouldn't mind if you shared my story with anyone else on the internet, because I want them to know that they're not alone and I wanted you to know as well.
Thanks so much for reading.
PS. I have a great support system where I am, but I can use all of the support that I can get because the unknown is scary.
Thanks again for reading my story.     
"Justice will not be served until those who are unaffected are as outraged as those who are" ~
Benjamin Franklin
Thank you Trina, for sharing your story and inspiring others. We are sending positive energy your way for your next meeting with the Neurosurgeon. If you can, please keep us updated with your progress.

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