Can you imagine going to a routine check-up and finding out, 48 hours later, that you have a brain tumor?

Well, that's what happened to me.

Once I heard the words, "You have what is known as an acoustic neuroma...", I felt I was having an out-of-body experience and could not perceive that this was happenening to me. I have a brain tumor the size of a golf ball in my head.

Though it was only recently that I held the MRI scans in my hand, looking at a picture of my very own brain and struggling to digest the newfound knowledge that I -- an otherwise active and healthy 30-year old -- had a tumor in my head, I learned it was not a recent development at all. According to my doctors, this -- what did they call it? -- acoustic neuroma had been slowly developing over the past 10 years or so. (And you think you know somebody!)

An acoustic neuroma is a slow-growing, benign tumor that originates in the vestibular, or balance nerve, connecting the inner ear to the brain. The balance nerve runs beside the nerve of hearing and the facial nerve which controls movement of the facial muscles. These three nerves travel through a bony canal known as the internal auditory canal.

I know -- what? Here's a little diagram to better explain all that. And here's a general overview to read about it in more detail.

And so, after having overcome the initial shock, fear, and just plain feeling-sorry-for-myself, my family and I sprung into action to locate the best surgeon in this field -- and guess what? We found him, locally (!), at Stanford Medical Center. I'll be undergoing a complex procedure, known as a translabyrinthine surgery, to remove the tumor on October 10th.

While overwhelming and scary as all get-out, I must admit that, despite the seriousness of the diagnosis, I'm excited about the location of the procedure. Stanford! It feels like I've been accepted to the university or something. In fact, the surgical team who'll be tackling my surgery is one of the most sought-after in the country, and both my brain and I are elated about that. Because, lemme tell you, when you know you have to find someone to tinker around in there, you become obsessed with finding the best person to do it.

The brain surgery itself is very complex -- 12-14 hours -- followed by a week-long hospital stay and 6-8 week recovery. I'll provide details on the actual procedure in a separate post, though to sum up, it will unfortunately result in total loss of hearing on my right side (where the tumor is). This is the best possible outcome of this whole process, and ironically, is the goal we're aiming for.

I've gone through a million different emotions throughout the past few weeks, asking a lot of "Why me?" questions and all that, but then realized: "Why not me?" I've discovered, through many shared tales of friends and relatives' own personal struggles, that things like this simply happen. Life is just like that. You can't predict it, you can't anticipate it, and you can't prevent it. So you have to just deal with it and move on.

That said, I've also discovered that it can be really hard to deal sometimes. It's natural to feel scared and shocked and sad and vulnerable, though more importantly, it's empowering to feel invincible and strong and confident and brave. I'm determined to focus on the latter, which is largely due to the unwavering support of family and friends (like you) that make situations like these bearable.

Thanks, so much, to everyone (especially you, Mom) for all you've done and said and offered to me so far. I know I'll overcome this ordeal, and I have all of you to acknowledge in helping me along the way.

With you -- plus a few genius doctors -- on my side, I know I'm gonna be okay.