Turns Out I Wasn’t Lazy, Lying, or Menopausal — I Just Had a Tumor Trying to Kill Me

The Years I Spent Begging to Be Seen

I’ve been sick for years — really sick. The kind of sick that steals your personality, your energy, your joy, and eventually your hope. I had gained close to 100 pounds. I still ate right. So where did the weight come from? I was exhausted. All. The. Time. I could barely get off the couch some days. I avoided mirrors because I hardly recognized the person looking back at me. That puffy face and those sunken eyes. Where did my cheek bones go? The only color I had was bright red flushing.

I went to doctor after doctor, some of them supposedly “the best in their field,” and I walked in begging for help. Begging for someone to connect the dots. Begging for someone to see me, begging for someone to help me.

Instead, I was laughed at. Literally. I was dismissed. I was told to lose some weight and go to therapy. Told I was lazy. Told I was lying. Told it was menopause or poor lifestyle choices. I knew it wasn’t. I knew my body. I knew something was very wrong.

And still, I kept fighting. Even when I wanted to go to sleep and never wake up again, I fought. Because I’m not a quitter. I’m a fighter — even when I’m exhausted, terrified, and barely hanging on.

I traveled the country looking for someone who would listen. I spent thousands of dollars on doctors who refused to actually see me. So I researched my symptoms myself. When the doctors wouldn’t put two and two together, I did.

And finally — when I was afraid there was nobody left — I found him.

The Doctor Who Finally Saw Me

Dr. Tobias Carling at the Carling Adrenal Center in Tampa, FL. My last resort.

I figured one more trip couldn’t hurt. And honestly, who complains about a trip to Florida?

But here’s the miracle: He saw me. Really saw me.

I wasn’t just labs or symptoms. I was a human being whose body was shutting down piece by piece. He listened. He validated everything I’d been saying for years. And he said he could fix it.

We scheduled surgery for a month later. That month flew by.

Surgery Day: The Truth Behind What Was Happening Inside Me

Five days ago, he removed my adrenal gland — along with a benign tumor producing cortisol (hello, Cushing’s Syndrome) and multiple tiny tumors producing aldosterone.

My adrenal gland was basically spewing hormones that were waging war with each other. Cortisol and aldosterone fighting like two toddlers with knives. Every chemical in my body was either underproduced or overproduced at any given moment.

Insulin. Glucose. Adrenaline. Estrogen. Everything.

I was a mess — physically, mentally, emotionally.

And now, five days later, I’m starting to feel like me again. I didn’t realize I had forgotten what happy felt like. My face is already changing. The puffiness is almost gone. My cheekbones exist again. My eyes are open. My skin has color. I look better today without makeup than I did before surgery with it.

It’s mind‑blowing.

But there are things nobody tells you before adrenal surgery. And oh, do I wish they had.

Eight Things I Wish I Knew Before Adrenal Surgery

1. You will be swollen. Very swollen.

I look eight months pregnant. Every dress I tried on made me look like I was prepping for a maternity shoot. The swelling is real and it’s not shy.

2. Your hormones will act like they’re auditioning for a soap opera.

When one adrenal is removed, the other has to remember how to function. Imagine PMS and menopause had a love child with a raging case of PMS and menopause. Multiply that by 3,462. That’s where we’re at.

3. You won’t magically be healed the moment you wake up.

I truly believed I’d open my eyes and be instantly better. Spoiler: no. Everything is still out of whack for a while.

4. Your back will feel like you got kicked by a horse.

A muscle was cut. It’s a deep ache — not unbearable, but definitely not pleasant. I’ve been kicked by a horse before. This is close.

5. Your skin will feel stretched and sunburnt at the same time.

Nerves were cut. Weird sensations happen. Today I’m grateful for Ehlers‑Danlos Syndrome because my stretchy skin is doing me a solid.

6. You will be numb in places you didn’t know could be numb.

My left belly, back, butt cheek, and thigh are numb. With random burning swirls. And sometimes it itches — except I can’t feel myself scratching it. Apparently this can last a year. Yay.

7. Walking is too much.

I tried to show my husband my old stomping grounds. My body said absolutely not. And since opiates do nothing for me, I’m relying on NSAIDs, breathing, and heat/ice I can’t fully feel.

8. Peeing is… weird.

Slow. Hard to feel. Hard to know when you’re done. I was not prepared for this one.

Learning My Strengths — and My Limits

I’m a control freak. Not knowing how long these symptoms will last, not bouncing back instantly, not being “me” right away — it’s been hard. I had unrealistic expectations, and I’m learning to let them go.

This tumor kicked my ass for years. I guess I hoped I’d wake up and be Happy‑Go‑Lucky Me again immediately. But healing doesn’t work like that.

Still, this recovery hasn’t been awful. The pain is manageable. And I can’t wait to feel productive and active again.

I got to sit by the ocean for the first few days — dolphins, sunsets, peace. Now I’m home, and I miss paradise. I know I’ll be back someday. For good. It used to be my home. I had forgotten how much it soothed my soul.

I’m learning my strengths. I’m admitting my weaknesses. I’m listening to my body — maybe for the first time ever.

And five days post‑op, I finally feel like I’m coming back to myself.

rewritingmytruth.com

Where honesty meets recovery

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H.L. Browning

Writer • Healing Advocate

Rewriting the stories I once survived