Wonder op cured my anxiety
For a decade, I wondered what was wrong with me
Slipping on my trainers, I stepped into the fresh air and headed for a run. ‘See you back here,’ I waved to my friend Emma, setting off on our usual Tuesday-night 5km circuit.
I loved the feeling of freedom it gave me.
It was November 2019, and I’d suffered anxiety for years, but running helped me clear my head and regain focus.
I was 22 the first time I had a panic attack.
I worked in an office doing admin, and out of nowhere
I was gripped with a tightness across my chest.
‘I can’t breathe,’ I managed.
It was terrifying.
I was rushed to hospital and thought
I was having a heart attack.
But tests showed everything was normal, so doctors presumed that it was a mental-health issue.
I was diagnosed with anxiety and prescribed antidepressants. Soon, I was anxious all the time, having panic attacks around once a week. I was signed off work for six months, and sought help with cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT). I learnt coping mechanisms, such as breathing exercises and meditation. I was advised that physical exercise could also help, so I took up running. And when I put on my trainers and started pounding the pavements, the fresh air and sun on my skin felt like an escape from my broken mind. Amazed by the difference it made to my mood, I joined a running club.
I started doing 5km runs three times a week.
And that Tuesday night, I attempted to cross the road as usual.
Only as I looked over my left shoulder, checking for traffic, my body veered right.
It sent me crashing into a garden wall.
‘Are you OK?’ Emma said, rushing to my aid.
‘I don’t know what happened,’ I stuttered, scrambling to my feet.
My vision was blurry, dizzy and unstable, I’d lost all sense of balance.
After a few minutes, I started to feel normal again. Assuming I was coming down with a bug, I went home to rest.
But when the same thing happened a week later, I made an appointment with my GP.
‘Looks like an inner ear infection,’ the doctor said.
I was advised to keep popping my ears to relieve the pressure.
But with each day, I grew more dizzy. I developed tinnitus – a constant ringing in my left ear.
After a few months,
I was struggling to walk straight without holding onto somebody.
‘This isn’t normal,’ my mum, Debbie, 62, insisted. We were out shopping, but
I was so wobbly that I looked drunk.
I went back to my GP and was referred to a specialist, who sent me for an MRI scan.
But when the results came back, I was left stunned.
‘You have a brain tumour,’ the consultant told me.
There was a 4cm mass, the size of a golf ball, growing deep inside my left ear.
He explained it was an acoustic neuroma – a non-cancerous tumour that grows slowly.
‘You must’ve had it at least a decade,’ he added. Shocking.
I thought back to my anxiety diagnosis, and when I asked if it could be connected, the consultant agreed with me.
The location of the tumour meant it’d run out of room to grow, so it had been pressing on the part of my brain that controlled my emotions. It was hard to digest. But at least I knew what was wrong with me at long last.
I was booked in for surgery straight away, and on 31 March 2020, I underwent an 11-hour operation.
By slicing into my scalp from behind my left ear, doctors were able to remove the majority of the tumour.
They left a small part, which was attached to my facial nerve and couldn’t be removed without paralysing the left side of my face.
After five days in hospital, I was sent home. I lived alone, so Mum moved in for two weeks while I got back on my feet.
Despite having had major brain surgery, I was amazed at how much better I felt.
My anxiety symptoms had almost disappeared.
With my sneaky stowaway gone, I felt better than I had in years.
With the country in lockdown, I didn’t feel any pressure to rush my recovery. Mum was furloughed from her job, so we could relax together.
After five weeks, I was able to take my dog Bonnie on short walks.
And after seven weeks, I could start running again.
In May 2020, I re-joined my running club, and pulling my trainers on felt like a huge achievement.
‘Race you to the finish,’ Emma joked.
The surgery left me deaf in my left ear, but I’m learning to adapt.
I’ll have yearly scans to monitor my tumour, but it’s shown no sign of growth so far.
I still run 5km a few times a week. My anxiety has taken a back seat and my mental health is back on track.
It’s amazing to think what was going on inside my head for all those years...
‘You must have had the tumour at least a decade’