From IUD to Brain Tumor Diagnosis: My Journey Through the Unexpected

If you know me, you know I research everything. Sometimes too much. It’s my way of dealing with the fear of the unknown—because for me, knowledge is power. I don’t make decisions lightly, especially when it comes to my health. But life has a way of throwing us into situations where we have to take leaps of faith. This is my story of one such leap—and the messy, unexpected path it took me down.

A Hesitant Decision

After a failed surgery last December, three different doctors told me that an IUD could change my life. Naturally, I did my research. I read every horror story, weighed the pros and cons, and sat with my hesitation. The idea of something I couldn’t “just stop taking” if it didn’t work scared me. But I was exhausted. Tired of the pain. Tired of not feeling like myself. So, at my first appointment with a new doctor, I made a last-minute decision to go for it. No more reading. No more doubting. This was going to change my life.

At first, it seemed like it might. Then the headaches started—just annoying enough to notice. But when I Googled “headaches and Mirena,” the results weren’t comforting. I told myself it was the hormones; after all, I’d had headaches with every pregnancy and birth control I’d ever been on. But soon, other side effects followed, ones I couldn’t ignore. Less than three months later, I was back at the doctor, begging to have it removed.

Another Crossroads: The Hysterectomy

The decision to have a hysterectomy wasn’t easy, but at that point, I was desperate for relief. I wasn’t focused on the surgery itself—I was worried about recovery. We were moving in two weeks. How would I sit still long enough to heal? What if something went wrong? Would my ovaries continue to function so I wouldn’t face menopause symptoms too soon?

These questions raced through my mind as I prepared for the next step in my journey.

Recovery was slow, as expected. The first week was a blur of sleep and pain meds. By the second week, I was moving around more, but I felt foggy, plagued by headaches and a strange whooshing sound in my ear at night. I blamed it all on hormones, tension, and stress. After all, recovery is a process, right?

The Eye Exam That Changed Everything

At my four-week post-op checkup, I almost didn’t mention the weird symptoms I was experiencing. But as I stood up in the waiting room, my vision blurred, and I felt the need to say something. My doctor assured me it was likely from anesthesia and told me to give it more time.

The next day, I went to my annual eye exam—only because I needed new contacts. What seemed like a routine visit quickly spiraled into something much bigger.

The optometrist spent extra time examining my eyes before telling me my optic nerves were swollen—a sign of increased pressure in the brain. I was sent to a specialist, who confirmed the swelling and ordered an MRI. Within days, I was diagnosed with idiopathic intracranial hypertension (IIH), a condition caused by excess cerebrospinal fluid putting pressure on my optic nerves. If left untreated, I could lose my vision permanently. A spinal tap was performed to relieve the pressure, and I was started on medication to prevent it from happening again.

But that wasn’t all. During the MRI, they found a small, non-cancerous brain tumor—a meningioma—likely caused by hormones. I was overwhelmed. The whirlwind of diagnoses, procedures, and uncertainty left me reeling. And then came the spinal headache, a side effect of the tap that brought pain unlike anything I’d ever experienced.

Finding Strength in the Chaos

To say the last few weeks have been hard is an understatement. I’ve cried more than I can count, prayed for relief, and silently begged for the pain to stop. Through it all, I’ve whispered to myself, “You can do hard things.” Because somehow, in the messiness of life, we find strength we didn’t know we had.

I didn’t expect a routine eye exam to lead to all of this. But as much as I hate what’s happened, I’m grateful I went to that appointment. I’m grateful for answers, even if they weren’t the ones I wanted. And I’m grateful for the reminder that life is messy, hard, and unpredictable—and that’s okay.

What I’ve Learned

This journey has taught me so much, but here’s what I want others to know:

• It’s okay to fall apart sometimes. Life is hard, and it’s okay to cry, grieve, and feel overwhelmed.

• Strength doesn’t mean never breaking; it means picking yourself back up when you do.

• Trust your gut and advocate for your health. You know your body better than anyone.

Looking Forward

I’m still in the thick of it. My journey isn’t over, and there are still questions without answers. But I’m holding onto hope, humor, and faith. (And honestly, considering a trip to Vegas—because with odds like 1 in 100,000 for IIH and 1 in 10 for a spinal headache, maybe my luck is due for a win!)

To anyone facing their own mountains, know this:

You can do hard things. Lean into your faith, give yourself grace, and remember—you’re not alone.