I’ve been fired 14 times in 8 years for something I can’t control

“Germinoma of the third ventricle.”

A what…? I thought while a doctor pointed to a section of my brain scan. It was a big gray mass. Brain tumor.

I repeated it over and over in my head. It was real, but I felt nothing. I was deaf.

I knew something was wrong back in 2014 when I started having serious memory problems.

My boss at work once called me an elephant because I could remember everything – but I soon began to forget even the simplest tasks.

I also started having hallucinations, seemingly out of nowhere.

I remember walking down the street chatting with friends, then turning around and the street was empty. My brain had tricked me into seeing something that wasn’t there.

This shocked, confused and frightened me – I was only 26 – and eventually led me to make an appointment with my GP.

They suggested that my hallucinations and forgetfulness were a brain problem. But the words “cancer” or “tumor” were never mentioned.

Within a week I was sent for a brain MRI scan. Immediately afterwards, I was assigned an appointment with a specialist. There I was confronted with the scan of my brain, which showed the large gray mass.

Simply put, a germinoma is a type of cancer that begins in germ cells (the cells that make sperm or eggs) and can cause tumors in various parts of the body, including the ovaries, testicles, brain, and spinal cord.

In my case, my tumor was located in the third ventricle of the brain and was growing “against” my hypothalamus – the part of the brain responsible for working memory.

As frightening as it was, I was quickly told that this particular tumor responded very well to treatment and that the chances of success were high.

Because of its location in the brain, it wasn’t safe to remove the tumor surgically, so I was told the best treatment was to shrink it with chemotherapy and radiation.

From then on, my life was “on hold” as I endured three rounds of chemotherapy and a month of radiation therapy. When I was in my mid-twenties, I was officially a cancer patient.

“You’re young, so your body is strong enough to handle this,” nurses told me. Still, it felt surreal.

I remember feeling like I was missing out on life during my treatment.

I missed going to work because I was thriving in my role as a customer service manager. I enjoyed talking to customers from all over the world, and I always did well because I could remember sales on the fly – but the tumor put an end to that.

I missed going out with my friends and just the freedom I had before cancer.

But I also knew that I had to keep fighting to have a chance again.

Luckily, my treatment was successful and after 18 months of chemotherapy and radiation, I was overjoyed to be cancer-free.

But life after a brain tumor was anything but easy.

To date, around eight years after treatment, I have not been able to re-enter the job market – but not for lack of trying.

Since 2015, I have tried with all my might to go back to work but have failed many times – 14 times to be exact.

I didn’t tell any of these companies during the interview that I had brain cancer – I was afraid that if I did I would either not be hired or my resume would be scrapped before they even met me.

I only worked at four of these jobs for one day. That was all they needed to realize that there was something wrong with my memory.

I don’t really feel like I was ever given a real chance to succeed, which is frustrating.

However, not only were my professional prospects affected, but also my personal relationships.

Unfortunately, even though I was aware of my impaired memory, I found that both my friends and family were still annoyed by me repeating myself, asking the same questions, and forgetting information.

Therefore, the excitement I once felt when meeting a group of friends was soon replaced by fear and nervousness because I was afraid of repeating myself and annoying them.

And because I found it difficult to keep up with multiple conversations happening at once, I generally shied away from attending large group gatherings or made up excuses not to go at all.

All of this resulted in my circle of friends shrinking drastically. I lost confidence in myself.

When people noticed my forgetfulness, I was often suggested to “write it down.” But I’ve already done that, I’ve even made it a goal to always have a pen and notepad with me to do just that.

I take notes on everything: I write a to-do list for myself every day and carry it with me in my purse, or leave it on my desk when I’m home and follow it down to the smallest detail.

And before I met my now-husband, I wrote down every detail of every date I went on so as not to offend anyone if there was a second one.

All of these notes, both past and present, have been transferred to my laptop so I can refer back to them whenever I need them. In total I have 10 overarching folders dating between 2015 and 2024, within each year there are 12 subfolders for the months and then a separate Word document for each day.

So yes, that’s me very organized, but it’s really not possible to write everything down.

I can only do my best, because it’s not exactly polite to answer a question with, “Wait a minute, let me take a look at my notepad,” is it?

It took a long time, but I now accept that I will always have damaged short-term memory. And while that means I can no longer work a job that is fast-paced or requires multitasking, it doesn’t mean I can’t have a job anymore Good Life.

That’s why I wrote a book this year.

“Memory Fail” details my cancer journey, from pre-diagnosis, through diagnosis and treatment, to life after cancer. My goal with this publication is to show other brain tumor patients that they are not alone with their problems.

I also hope it gives friends, family and carers a deeper understanding of the impact of brain cancer.

Because although brain cancer is an invisible disease, there are around 12,700 new cases of brain cancer every year, according to Cancer Research UK. This is a shockingly large number and we need more understanding.

If you had a broken leg, no one would tell you to walk faster. So why would you tell a brain tumor patient to stop being so forgetful?

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