"A Pituitary Macroadenoma," the doctor said as his phone begins to ring. "You will need an MRI to make sure it isn't bleeding or pressing too hard on your optic nerve because, if it is, we have to send you to Pittsburgh," as he walks out into the hall to answer his phone. That's what my Thursday night was like in the ER just thinking that I was going to be prescribed anti-migraine medications and be sent on my way. I just look over at my mom and I can feel the tears well up in my eyes.

I was rolled into the MRI machine and was asked what music I wanted. I ended up listening to country in between loud beeps and banging from the MRI machine. I closed my eyes the whole time because a plastic head piece is literally two inches from your face the whole time and it gives off the feeling of being in a coffin. I just laid there for 20 minutes as the MRI machine made its beeps and clangs as it did its job. And for twenty minutes, I felt peace. Little did I know at the moment, that those twenty minutes would be the last peaceful moment I would feel for a couple days. I tried to focus my mind on the noises the machine was making as I was flooded with the news that the next couple of days to weeks were going to change drastically.

I thought about what I might have possibly done to bring this on myself. I thought about how everything bad happens to me and was wondering what the future was going to hold. I prayed and I prayed and for those twenty minutes that this tumor wasn't bleeding and I was going to be able to go home that night. I don't really know what made me so sure of the diagnosis but I already had my mind made up. I kept thinking "this too shall pass" much like the other negative things that have happened in my life. I returned to room and my dad and sister were there. We have a rolling joke in my family that everything bad happens to me and we just sat in silence until the doctor came back in. Thankfully the tumor wasn't bleeding and wasn't damaging my optic nerve so I was able to go home.

I was refereed to a neurosurgeon in Pittsburgh and after many blood draws and diagnostic tests I will be having the tumor removed September 12. Everything seems to be up in the air at the moment but I know that everything will happen the way it's suppose to. I find myself thinking back to that twenty minutes in the MRI machine right after I was diagnosed and the feeling that everything is going to be okay. When life feels like everything around you is falling apart know, trust that things will happen the way they are suppose to. We don't have control over the things that happen in our life, but we do have control over how we let them effect us emotional. Hopefully weeks or months from now, I can look back on this and grow from the feelings I am feeling currently because I know this too shall pass.