Dear Little Pitt

Backstory:

Doctors diagnosed me with Pituitary Schwannomas (Brain tumours that affect the pituitary gland) when I was an older teen. It was a diagnosis that shaped my life, for better or worse. While they were hard to live with, I have some things that I have to thank them for.

I call them Little Pitt, owing to their point of origin.

**********************************************************************

Dear Little Pitt,

It’s a little awkward thanking you since you were a benign growth that caused almost complete upheaval in my life. You’ve brought about dynamic changes, for better or worse—it is a task coming to terms with you.

You’ve darkened my existence—it has been daunting trying to focus or keep up with work-related matters, not to mention having to explain the errors I make. Yes, you are not an affable fellow.

You don’t make liking you easy.

Still, I must thank you. Though you’ve created exceptional change, you’ve also stemmed indispensable growth - growth that makes me, me.

You taught me that challenges have a purpose, no matter if they seem like a dozen Mt Everests rolled into one. It still drains me to come to terms with the elusive aim of your presence. It’s hard to accept that I couldn’t take strolls to the park for a time, or had to endure spinal taps that kept me pinned to the bed for two months. The inability to hold cutlery or stop drooling during meals. The out-of-place hurdles you presented seemed to swallow me whole, but they taught me I could go beyond. To do more than I thought I was capable of.

Little Pitt, you are not a teacher who mollycoddles. You are not one to spoon feed me. I had to learn to walk again, with no one to help me through the therapy. Learning to hold a fork and spoon the way a puzzled, overwhelmed child does. But I thank you for the lessons because they taught me resilience. That I have Tolerance that enables me to break boundaries when I need it, and can jump through hoops that seem too small for me. You’ve also brought me to the realisation that a mountain is only as tall as you imagine.

Little Pitt, I am a creature of impulse - for me, the river of patience is hard to swim. But you’ve done or part to teach me that good things come to those who wait - a family who has been with me through your curveball practices, the missed pitches, and the home runs; a husband who can fight the same curve balls as I have; and a teaching degree that took a little longer than expected to complete. We have a home that came together with the counting of each grain of the sands of time. You taught me that with time, I could put these things together myself.

You’ve taught me the beauty of self-love - and to embrace the total package, imperfections and all. Facial paralysis doesn’t make me inadequate; it just means having to exercise care when I eat. Having slower executive functions because of you doesn’t mean being slow - It just means having to write things down. Being small-built doesn’t mean the inability to keep up with everyone else; it just means having to run faster. Push a little harder. You remind me that a little effort allows me the same capacity as the next person, so I thank you.

Last, Little Pitt, you taught me gratitude. That it is not an altruistic, prescribed value that one should accept, but that it is necessary for life. I lost my ability to walk, but you reminded me to be grateful that I can now. When I lose my ability to focus, you remind me I can think beyond. When I feel the need for solace, I am thankful for the company that’s on hand, digital or otherwise.

So, Little Pitt, I may not like you, but I thank you. Yes, you are difficult to love, but not so hard to appreciate. And your life lessons are hard to buy off-the-shelf in a bookstore. Hats off to you for teaching them to me.

Michelle