My Story
Do you know what I was for Halloween this year? Blissfully ignorant. I had no idea about the walnut-sized tumor that had taken up residence in my brain. I went to bed on Halloween night thinking that I was as healthy as anybody in the world. I felt great; physically and emotionally. I was totally in love with my new wife, Jessica. I was gainfully employed, as I still fortunately am, and the hardships of the troubled economy have spared us still to this day. In my corner of the world, the sun was always shining.
Saturday, November 1st however brought a change. I woke up that morning with a headache, which struck me as odd because I had just remarked to someone that I never feel any pain. No headaches, no allergies, not even a cavity…truly I was, or at least thought I was, a picture of perfect health.
When I woke up with a headache, my first reaction was to think that I had addicted myself to caffeine. I had two coffees the day before, and remember thinking that that the human body was remarkable. Could I really be having headaches because I was addicted to caffeine? Not addicted one day; addicted the next? I succumbed to the pain and gave it what I thought it wanted…coffee. To nobody’s surprise, the pain went away. Once again, I was perfectly healthy…or so I thought.
The pain returned on Sunday morning, November 2nd. This time however, I decided that I wasn’t going to be an addict of any kind. I wasn’t going to let caffeine control me. Instead of having another coffee, I decided to go to the gym.
(You may not know this about me, but I’m a marathoner in the making. Sure, I’ve never run any distance of any kind on the roads. And yes, I’ve been averse to exercise for most of my life. However, for some strange reason that even I can’t really explain, I decided a few months ago that I was going to run a marathon one day, and I began training. As is my custom though, I didn’t start training in an orthodox way. I began my training on the elliptical machine. Go ahead – snicker if you want. Remember though, I have brain cancer! Did you really just laugh at a cancer patient?)
Well, I built my exercise tolerance up to 60 minutes on the elliptical. That’s no easy feat, trust me. On Sunday, November 2nd though, after 30 minutes on the machine I couldn’t continue. I could hardly muster the strength to move the arm and leg pedals, and the pain in my head was becoming debilitating. I started to suspect that something was wrong. The 1:00 NFL games provided a brief distraction, but at about 5:00 pm on Sunday night the pain returned and didn’t subside.
At this point, I was sure that I had become a sufferer of migraine headaches. At 29 years old, when you have a headache for the better part of two days, migraines seem like the only possible cause. I took Advil migraine on Monday, and ignored the part on the box that instructed me to contact my doctor immediately if it was “the worst headache of my life”. That didn’t seem to make sense to me. At some point in everybody’s life they have the worst headache that they’ve ever had, and I had a hard time believing that everybody contacts their doctor at that time.
Well, the migraine medicine didn’t work either, and as I progressed through the night on Monday, on two separate occasions I thought about waking Jessica to take me to the emergency room. I knew something was wrong with me, but I’m stubborn. I was just hoping that for the first time in my life, I was wrong. The good news is that my streak is still intact. I’ve still never been wrong, but something was definitely wrong with me.
We made a doctor’s appointment for 3:30 on Tuesday afternoon, but I couldn’t make it that long. After trying in vain to eat something at lunchtime, I couldn’t fathom the idea of waiting any longer to get medical attention. Jessica called an ambulance, and the EMTs were quick to arrive. I remember thinking that the EMTs on scene must have thought I was soft. I answered ‘no’ to all of their questions, and I could only tell them one symptom that I had. I had the worst headache I could ever imagine, and I needed a professional opinion immediately. They thought I was dehydrated. I knew that I wasn’t. I couldn’t have guessed at that point that I had a brain tumor, but I was certain that I was properly hydrated as usual.
On the way to the hospital they riddled me with questions. They even asked me twice how bad my headache was, and I told them that I never had a headache like it. Then they asked me to rank on a scale of 1-10 how bad the pain was, with a 1 being noticeable but not significant (like a hangnail), and a 10 being the worst pain ever. “It’s a 10”, I told them. “My 10 might be different from your 10, but on my scale, there’s no doubt about it that it’s the worst pain ever.”
The next few hours are somewhat of a blur. They gave me Morphine for the pain, and I guess the Morphine did the trick, but it also made me nauseous. As I lay there in the ER, I’m not sure what I was thinking. It wasn’t until after a CT scan that we had confirmation that something was seriously wrong. The CT scan revealed a “mass” that shouldn’t have been there; a mass that was either an “infection” or a tumor. Never before did I hope for an infection as much as I did at that point.
As it turned out, it wasn’t an infection. Despite the fact that they were seemingly obsessed with the notion that I had been out of the country on multiple occasions recently…and despite their insistence on an HIV test although I assured them that I didn’t have HIV…I had a walnut-sized tumor in my brain that had to be removed.
In the grand scheme of things, not having the opportunity to vote on Tuesday, November 4th doesn’t seem like such a bad thing at this point, but after looking forward to it for months, I felt slightly robbed. Wednesday, November 5th wasn’t the best of days either, as the highlight of the day was moving hospitals to the facility where my surgery would take place on Thursday. I’ll spare you the lowlights of the day because they don’t really add to the story, but Wednesday, November 5th is unquestionably one of the worst days of my life, if not the worst.
To make a long story a little bit shorter, I had the surgery on Thursday afternoon. It took 3-4 hours and I remember none of it, except for waiting in the pre-op room with Jessica and my family glued to my side. I recall them telling me that I was about to go into the operating room and that the anesthesiologist was on the way…and the next thing I remember was calling two people in the post-op observation room “Mike” and “Beatrice”, though both of them told me that those weren’t their names. Oh well.
I had a chance on Thursday night to inspect the doctor’s handiwork. He did a hell of a job. My family — who I probably have never thanked enough for being themselves – took to calling me “glue head”; a reference to the way that I was “sealed” shut after my operation. In lieu of stitches or staples, my head was glued shut after the operation. My skull was screwed back together, but my scalp was glued. Thus the nickname. I guess it beats “screw head”, which also would have been appropriate. They meant it with the utmost love though, and I appreciated the expeditious fashion in which we returned to normalcy. It wouldn’t be my family if I was treated with kid gloves.
I spent the night on Thursday night in the ICU with my family by my side. I wasn’t eating yet, but I felt like I was regaining some strength. After a hellacious few days suffering at home and in the hospital, on Thursday night I first began to think about leaving the hospital. At first I was told that I’d be able to leave on Sunday or Monday, depending on how I responded post-op. However, with two of my three sisters employed in the medical profession, and a Mom who has devoted her professional career to pharmacy, and an eternally loving wife, it became crystal clear to the hospital staffers that I was in the best care when I was with my family, rather than when I was under the watchful eye of the nurses who had a whole floor of patients to look after. The timeframe of Sunday or Monday quickly became anytime after Friday that they deemed I was ready to leave. I made it my goal at this point to get out of there on Saturday. I had heard too many tales of people that were hospitalized for one reason and ended up staying there for a completely different reason. I was busy surviving a brain tumor, and didn’t want to waste even a second laying in a hospital bed for an unrelated ailment. I had to get out of there.
I was moved from the ICU to a regular hospital floor on Friday, and though we got off to a rough start with one of the nurses who scolded my family and I for being “too rowdy”, we settled in nicely enough. They’d check on me periodically and ask me about my head, and every time I’d insist that my head was fine but my arm had me in misery. After being hospitalized for three days at that point and having oxygen masks, head braces, breathing tubes, and IVs crammed in every orifice and vein I had, the IVs took their toll. I’ll be careful from this point on in my life to say that something is “killing me”, but at that point I felt as though the IVs actually were. My arm throbbed and ached, and I had to beg them to remove the IV. Finally, they relented. If Wednesday was my low point in the hospital (and in my life), the moment on Friday when they removed the last IV was the high point. I still feel as though they didn’t take it out a moment too soon, as more than two weeks later my battered and bruised left forearm still shows the signs of an IV gone wrong.
Friday dragged by but brought the promise of Saturday; the day on which I was sure I was going to go home. I awoke Saturday with excitement as my discharge from the hospital wasn’t far away. By 1:00 in the afternoon on Saturday I was being wheeled out of the hospital, thrilled to be leaving there even if I was too weak to walk on my own. I had spent a week shielding the light from my sensitive eyes as well, so I was also wearing sunglasses as I left the hospital, not to mention the velour sweatsuit that I had on. As you can imagine, I was quite a sight.
From Saturday, November 8th – Friday, November 14th, I spent the week at our condo in Alexandria, VA, waiting for the neurosurgeon who removed the tumor to confirm what he initially suspected. I learned on that Friday that his diagnosis was accurate. I have a glioblastoma multiforme, more commonly known as a GBM. GBMs are diagnosed in 10,000 Americans per year, a distinction that makes them the most common and most aggressive form of brain cancer.
Since that Friday – the real Black Friday for me – we have devoted our existence to figuring out how exactly to beat this thing. There is no doubt in my mind that I will, but the trick is identifying how. This blog will serve as documentation of my fight – and ultimately my victory – and will also keep those nearest and dearest to me abreast of my progress.
I’ve said it many times before, but I feel like I’ll never be able to say it enough…with a support group like the one I have, I have no choice but to be victorious. Thanks to all for your love and support. With your help, the final score will be…Brian 1, Cancer 0. Stay tuned.
We are rooting for you all the way- this thing is not going to get you- fight, fight, fight luv mr. and mrs. b - ps we love you- you are like one of our sons
Hi Brian - I am Holly, D’s friend from grad school. I just want to let you know that you and your family are in my thoughts and prayers. Five years ago my mother was diagnosed with a meningioma and went through brain surgery. I know (somewhat) what your family is going through. If there is anything I can do please let me know. I am looking forward to reading through your updates, and I know you will pull though this difficult time.
Love,
Holly
I just talked to my mother, she saw Dr. Rees Cosgrove at Lahey Clinic. He is one of the BEST in the business. He is chief of nurosurgery. His direct number is 781-744-1990. My mom says ask for Sherry who is his assistant, tell them Elizabeth Smith sent you (thats my mother). If you tell them you are her friend he will get you right in. People fly from all over the country to see him. At least to get a second opinion and know you are having a great doctor. If there is anything else I can do, let me know.
-Holly
hollyesmith@hotmail.com
“glue head”….only the Serenos! Brian, you and the whole fam are in my thoughts and prayers!! Keep up the positive attitude!
Hey Brian and Jessica,
I am one of Chrissy’s friends at HUP…just wanted you both to know that lots of people are praying for you up here! It doesn’t matter than we don’t know you personally (even though I feel like I do from Chrissy updating us:))but that we are lifting you all up to the Lord with persistence. My husband and I have a small group from our church that meets in our home each week and they are praying for you as well! Thanks for sharing your life with us, ups and downs. Blessings to you both:)
The site looks great, and I think you should give a typing class in your spare time
You are Jess are constantly in my thoughts and it was great to spend some time with you last week. I hope your strombo flombo has gotten better so you can keep the real fight going!
Brian — you’re in our thoughts and prayers ….. always have been for your unusual/strange views on various sporting and world events, and now for this latest challenge ….. with your outlook and determination, you’re on the path to success. “Glue Head” — classic … take care and later I’ll make my case for Mark Whipple as the next SU head coach …….
I love the velour suit…left me speechless…I’m so happy you are writing and sharing with us your story and endless wit. Not a day has gone by that you haven’t been in my thoughts. I’ll be looking forward to the blog so write as much as you can.
Great idea Jessie…
It’s a good thing we never crossed paths in the hospital - instead of asking how you were feeling, I probably would’ve asked how you stole Rob’s clothes.
PS: LOVE the wedding pic.
@Greg and Sue
I second the Mark Whipple motion! Let’s vote…
Jess, you created a wonderful site, great job. Brian you are a very talented writer and I enjoy reading all your updates. I’m so glad that Duke got in touch with you. Once you beat GBM you’ll be on the cover of every medical magazine from here to Sydney. Keep being positive. Great seeing you guys and hope to see you soon.
P.S Mark Whipple would be a horrendous choice for the SU coach
B,
Finally - Duke is good for something! Congrats on getting those appointments - looks like you are in good hands, even if they are Dukies.
Have a Happy Thanksgiving - you know it’s Thursday right?
AC
Hey, Brian,
I learned of your battle today through some colleagues at WTEM.
Spent a little time reading your blog tonight.
In no way does this mean I’ll flip and not enjoy the fact that the NYJ are in first place.
But please add me to the list of people thinking about and pulling for you. I admire your fortitude and courage and have no doubt you’re on the way to a big win.
If you ever need anything, please holler. I’m also an Alexandria condo owner, so evidently we’re neighbors, buddy!
Warmest regards,
nate davis, usa today
Hi Brian and Jess,
I will be keeping up with your blog to follow your victory. You’re in my thoughts and prayers.
~Lauren in Phoenix
Brian, i am a friend of your mother and father. I worked at avery-dennison after your dad left and i even had his office! i never met your dad at dennison but he was larger than life, his reputation and greatness live on today!
i met your mom and dad when i got involved with vacuum metalizing and they came to my house in Frankiln, MA for dinner a couple of times. I now live in tucson az and heard your story from another mutual friend of your parents. You and Jess are in our hearts.
I just returned from the Washington DC area (Quantico, VA) to witness my son enter the US Marines as an officer having graduated OCS. Of the 1200 or so guests that were there I found myself sitting next to a gentleman from Hopkinton,MA who also had a son graduating. He works at Luciano’s in Wrentham and your father’s mission is to seek him out and make the connection between all of us! Mr. Frank Sereno please report back to us your findings! I think his name was Robert but I am not good at remembering stuff like that.
Brian and Jess if you have not seen the Marine Corps museum in Triangle,VA go see it.
Thinking of you
Sereno…I caught wind of what has been happening to you recently and was able to track down this website. Not sure what to say, especially after all these years. Do we catch up? Do I say “my thoughts are with you?” I’ll just go with what I feel, eh? First of all, congrats on the wedding…I was very excited to see that you married Jessica! Please say hi for me. It has been too long since we’ve all been in touch. I married Gillian and we have a baby on the way. She sends her love and remembers the fun we all had in Niagara for that Formal. On one hand it feels like ages ago, college….and on the other, it feels like yesterday. It was terrible to hear what had happened to you, but a different experience reading some of your blog entries and seeing some of these photos. So, brother, my thoughts are with you….hang in there and fight my man. -Dan Saland
Sereno,
Brother Beta here my friend. Saland sent me your blog link tonight. I have to admit, I got wind of your situation a couple weeks ago, but didn’t do anything about it. It’s hard to approach someone you haven’t talked to in a long time when it is for such a difficult purpose, but I think that knowing there’s one more person out there rooting for you is invaluable, so here I am. Sorry I didn’t write earlier.
I read most of you blog tonight, and it really moved me. You’re a brave brave guy. Scut number 1 in my opinion.
Your story is both harrowing and moving. Your writings suggests to me that you have all the right thoughts to beat back this terrible disease. My thoughts are with you… if there’s anything a brother in New York can do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask.
Not sure if you recall, but I used to do “word of the week,” or “quote of the week,” at the end of every chapter. Here’s a quote I read recently that will hopefully give you more fight.
“Man can live about forty days without food, about three days without water, about eight minutes without air, but only for one second without hope.”
Brian, who knew going back to work would be so much fun…keep enjoying each day.. Pam Medlock
Brian,
Cheryl sent us your link and I just sat here on my couch reading every page. First, funny to see people refer to you as Sereno since we called Cheryl that for so long. Made me smile because I know how close your family is and that name does mean a lot.
Cancer is a strong force in my family that has impacted us greatly over the years, so your story hit home. But I felt like sharing the story of my older sister who two summers ago was told she had thyroid cancer. She was very lucky and caught it very early had it removed and is cancer free. The crazy part of this story is that for 8 years her and her husband had tried to have a baby and even with treatment failed. This summer my nephew Christopher was born to my sister Lori. Why things happen one truely never knows, but I do believe they happen for a reason. From the worst of situations the greatest things came come. If it were not for the cancer, I do not think Chris would be here with us.
I wish you all the best and will only keep good thoughts for you and your wife. Be good to eachother and stay strong.
Jodi
Dear Brian.
Your mom just sent us an email about your battle! Glad you hear you are winning!
We know your parents from our summers in Stowe. They are wonderful people and always so proud of all their children!
We’ll keep you in our thoughts and prayers!
Susan & John
Winchester, MA
Brian, Just wanted you to know you are in our thoughts and prayers every day. I am glad to see you and all the Serenos are doing well. Your web site is great and we will look forward to updates. I know you and your family are going to have a great 2009, All the Best. Love, The Morgantis
Brian,
I coached your sisters (Denise & Chrissy) in track and just heard your news. Denise sent me your website and I have just been reading your story and your blogs…You truly are inspirational and should write a book. And although you & I don’t know each other, please know that I am sending you and your family positive thoughts and love!
Melanie
Brian,
Not sure if you remember me, I met you through Alex Henn at SU and also danced with Jess. I learned of your battle through Alex and have been thinking and praying for you since. Your positive attitude and bravery astounds me! As I sit here reading each one of your blogs I am amazed at how strong and inspirational your words are. Thank you for sharing this personal experience with us. So, I just wanted to drop a line and let you know that you and Jess and your family are in my thoughts.
Nicolette (Balducci) Sterling
Brian,
Found this blog through Eric Hernandez. I am a 14 year cancer survivor and know how you feel. I want you to know that if you ever need anything or want to talk, I am here for you. Also, if you get a change, check out this non-profit that I work with, http://www.imermanangels.org We can pair you up so you can email or talk to someone who has already beat this type of cancer. One last website…if you are having a shitty day, which we all do when fighting cancer, check this out http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lVQGAg-k4bw Sean is one of my best friends and is the epitomy of hope. definitely don’t hesitate to contact me, we survivors have to stick together!
Joe Schneider
Brian. I spent the evening with some Holliston friends. I think one calls it “a dinner party”. It’s truly a sign you’ve grown up when you aren’t directed to the basement stairs by someone’s parents when you visit a high school friend. Your name came up. I’d say the theme was how inspiring it is that you’re able to share your story in such a thoughtful and hopeful way. I’ll look forward to checking in with you often. I’ll assume you know this, but mention it anyway; our thoughts and prayers are with you. Stay strong friend.
Hello Brian,
I’m a neighbor of Tony & Cis Mirto in Florida (If I’ve got it right, Tony is your Mom’s uncle). I also have brain cancer and have had on and off treatments for 5 years+ (if you want details, just email me).
I hope your aggressive protocol at Duke puts an end to your GBM once and for all. I’m glad you have no deficits, too. I want to share this
news story: http://abcnews.go.com/Health/MedicineCuttingEdge/story?id=6913206&page=1 which was on ABC news this week. The story is scant in info, and only 4 people have had this procedure to date. The procedure sounds pretty easy compared to surgery. I’m keeping this info “just in case” and hope neither you nor I will need it. Best wishes to you, your wife and family from myself and the Mirto’s. (Rindy showed me your blog-she’s been here visiting her parents)
Tom Schnepp
Brian, long time. Bumped into your website on Chuck Douglas’s FB page. You, and Jessica, are in my prayers. We serve a faithful Lord. Keep up the good fight. God bless, Bob Treseler
I still find you sexy even with the baldness.
….What an awesome blog Brian. You have done a remarkable job keeping your family and friends and people all over updated on your trial with cancer and your path to beating it successfully because there is no doubt that you will. People with your spirit and attitude will come out on top and with plenty of prayers and faith, you will not be let down. Hang in there and stay strong…You can do IT!
Hey Brian i think you’ve done a great job on your web site and that you trully have a great spirit, i believe that alone, and the support of your wife and family will get you through all of this. You are truly a great person and that will give you the ability to fight this cancer mentally and physically. yours trully Tee!
Hi Brian,
I just want to let you know what an amazing job I think you’re doing not only in fighting the good fight out there but in communicating your journey in such a compelling way. I have been reading your blog since you started, and it happened to coincide with losing my dad to cancer back at the beginning of November. Your words fill me and so many others with hope, and of course we all send that hope right back to you in the form of prayers and good thoughts to help you on your way. Keep writing - I’m sure it is therapeutic in some way too - and stay well. I’m a reluctant Syracuse fan at this point, being married to one and having my stinky team lose in the 1st round. Go Orange!
All the best,
Marybeth Gerson Heyd (of Fiske St and Brian/Megan sibling fame)
Hi Brian,
My name is Jennie Dalton and I am from Lebanon, Ohio, which is near Cincinnati. Your story is nothing short of amazement, hope, and determination. You are truly a fighter and survivor.
I got on to read your story because my brother, Jeff Jewell from Superior, Colorado is fighting the same battle at age 40. His story begins the day of his 40th birthday- February 8, 2009. His tumor was the size of a lemon and had two surgeries within two weeks time. The second surgery wsas to remove more tunor if possible, because he had so much swelling the first time around that it was difficult to determine tumor from healthy brain tissue. He is a licensed massage therapist and
works mostly on professional athletes. As I read your story you and Jeff remind me so much of one another. He is also seeking treatment at Duke. Jeff is so hopeful reading your story. He will be going back to Duke at the end of May and is wanting to hear the same wonderful news that you received. Jeff is doing oral chem, raditation, and avastin. It would be wonderful for the two of you to talk. Jeff is a runner, biker, and avid swimmer. He has done a couple of marathons and many triathalons. He has even qualified 3 times for the Ironman in Hawaii, however, every time that he qualified a major injury happened: hit by a car while biking, fell and broke his femur, and terribly ill. Jeff has a website, too. It is on caringbridge.org type in jeffjewell (all one word and lower case). It tells his journey along with pictures.
Please continue to “Fight the Good Fight”. May God continue to watch over you and Jessica as you both continue on this Journey together.
Brian,
I haven’t seen you in a long time, but I think about what you’re going through everyday.
I’m a cancer survivor as well and it’s a sucky club to get a membership to, but an amazing one to be a lifelong member of.
I wish you nothing but the best,
Holly
Brian-
.. was it Mrs. Moore’s class?- and i’m eager to see the next entry and all that lies in your future.
Thank you so much for keepin’ up with your blog. I learn something new every entry and you inspire without fail every time. Thanks for you attitude, persistence and incredible ability to write and make everyone laugh! You’re a real piece of work - which I learned in 6th grade
Much love and positive thoughts to you and your amazing family.
Kelly
Hey my Newly adopted family i just wanted to say hello and how hav you guys been, i haven’t seen u in forever and that is a good thing i would hope u guys are able to celebrate jess b-day really good and enjoy yourselves. luv TEE
Hey Brian - Kevin B. just linked me here.
I sent some cancer-killing good vibes cross country to the East Coast for ya.
If your fighting spirit is even half of how funny you were back in the days of K-12, then I have no doubt you’ll beat this thing ten-fold…!
-Andy K. (San Francisco, CA)
Hi Brian:
Wow! You are so amazing! Eddie and I will support your cause. To this day Eddie has such a fond appreciation of you for being a truly great person to him when he coached the Wizards. Stay in touch! We will be rooting for you. Be sure to stay hydrated! We hope to see you and your beautiful wife soon! Take care.
Charrisse