The morning I woke up in my new city of Las Vegas, I felt like I hadn’t slept more than a few minutes. As I dressed for my new job, I noticed none of my clothes fit and a wave of dizziness washed over me. Day after day, my head felt disconnected from my shoulders. My speech slurred, my balance wavered, and I felt a deep paranoia around everyone I met. I avoided looking outside if the sun was out. Three months later, I had my first seizure in a nail salon.
Test after test and doctor after doctor, I couldn’t get an answer about what was happening to my body. I began experiencing major panic attacks at work and at home, leading to my first, but not my last, suicide attempt. One day, after blacking out from an attack, I woke up in my coworker’s arms in the hallway of my office. My managers put me on leave to “get better.”
I worked tirelessly to improve. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and started taking medications for it, but the physical symptoms persisted. An EEG test showed nothing. After months of waiting, I left work early to get an MRI. For nine months, I told myself it was all in my head, and finally, I found out that it was. I was rushed out of the radiology office and sent to the emergency room for a large growth in my right frontal lobe.
With the support of doctors, friends, and family, I was sent to UCLA for a craniotomy to remove a malignant Grade 3 Astrocytoma. Friends and family gathered to support me. After waking up from surgery, I knew life would never be the same. Upon returning to Las Vegas, I stayed with relatives for recovery. Every day was a beautiful yet tough battle. Everything I knew about myself crumbled as I rebuilt a new life. Smells had new scents, feelings had new sensations, and I was given the gift of a second chance—a gift many don’t receive.
Over time, I regained strength, cognitive skills, and a new perspective on life. The world I once viewed as a sinister nightmare now appeared abundant and full of opportunities. Today, I am one year out of surgery, closer with my family than ever before, and learning to adapt to a “new normal” while building a new identity. My life was passed through many hands, and now it’s finally mine.
Kelsie Barry, Patient/Survivor
Astrocytoma, Grade 3
Las Vegas, NV