When You Learn You Have a Brain Tumor, It’s Not Like in the Movies

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I was driving down a tree-lined road, my daughter Emily excitedly discussing her favorite video games from the backseat. “Uh-huh,” I replied absentmindedly.

I found myself driving slower than usual, noticing how the sunlight filtered through the leaves—a rarity for me, usually too focused on my busy mom schedule. But that day felt different, as I had just picked up my MRI report, and the weight of it lingered heavily on my mind. The receptionist had handed me the report with a cheerful smile, wishing me a good day, while my daughter sprinted toward the parking lot, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me.

It’s not like it is in the movies.

In films, when someone discovers they have a brain tumor, they’re typically in a doctor’s office, surrounded by family members, offering support or rushing to find a solution. But here I was, standing in a hot parking lot, Googling medical terms on my phone while my daughter was more concerned about whether we could play her favorite game when we got home. “Hurry up, Mom!” she urged, clearly eager to get to the library.

Right. The library.

During the 20-minute drive, my thoughts seemed to split in two: one half calmly answering Emily’s questions while the other spiraled into panic. Why did I choose to handle this now? What does this mean? I need to talk to my doctor, but he won’t be available until Monday. How can I wait two days for answers? Oh no, I’m going to have to tell my family, and they’ll freak out. Maybe I can just keep it to myself for a while… No, that won’t work. They’d be furious when they find out I kept it hidden.

“Mom… MOM!” Emily’s voice jolted me back to reality.

“Yes?” I snapped, realizing I had lost track of time.

“We’re here!” she said, bouncing out of the car. Somehow, I followed her inside. While she explored the shelves, I continued to search for articles on my type of tumor, treatments, and what the prognosis could be. Most sources suggested a benign tumor, with surgery being a common solution. Brain surgery? Really?

I pictured those dramatic movie scenes: characters with shaved heads in operating rooms, surrounded by worried family members. But the movies never tackled the real questions I had now. How long will I be out of commission? Who will drive Emily to her activities? What if there are complications? What if surgery drains our savings? We wanted to buy a new house this year!

“Mom!”

“Yes, sweetie?” I tried to refocus on her.

“I’m ready to go! Can I invite someone over when we get home?”

“Um, let’s talk about that later,” I replied, trying to keep my composure.

Somehow, I made it through two days of distracting myself and my family before finally speaking with my doctor. We filled those days with a baseball game, a sleepover, and a hike—each moment a distraction from the looming diagnosis. We decided to wait to tell the kids until we had more information—we didn’t want to scare them.

Monday morning, my doctor confirmed what I had read online: likely benign and easily treatable. He referred me to a neurosurgeon, and we began sharing the news with family and friends. We explained everything over dinner, reassuring the kids that I would be okay.

It’s not like in the movies where everything resolves in two hours. Now, we wait to see how this unfolds. It’s not like it’s in the movies, because this is happening to me.

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Summary

In this heartfelt narrative, Jamie Collins shares her experience of discovering she has a brain tumor, contrasting it with the unrealistic portrayals often seen in movies. As she navigates a whirlwind of emotions and family dynamics, she reflects on the challenges of waiting for answers and the reality of managing fears while trying to maintain normalcy for her children.