Glioblastoma May Change My Life, But Never Who I Am

When a reader asked how I can say Glioblastoma has not changed who I am, despite its enormous impact, I realized it was time to share my journey. It began right after Thanksgiving with a diagnosis that turned my world upside down. I was thrown into a whirlwind of fear, confusion, and uncertainty. I even considered selling everything and going on a spontaneous trip, desperate for escape.

But in the middle of that chaos, one thing grounded me: my husband. His support pulled me from the darkness. He reminded me of who I was before the fear—strong, determined, a fighter. Glioblastoma could not erase that.

Finding Light Through Darkness

Love as My Anchor

I remember those long days and nights in the hospital. The sterile walls, the steady hum of machines, the smell of antiseptic—it all felt surreal. But amidst it all, my husband was my refuge. In that dimly lit room, he and I shared moments that were more powerful than any medicine. We whispered dreams, fears, and hopes for the future. We laughed. We cried. And we loved harder than ever before. His presence reminded me that even though Glioblastoma was part of my life, it did not own me.

Ten years ago, Ernie was my lifeline during another dark chapter. And now, once again, he stands beside me—not just as my husband, but as my soulmate. Glioblastoma may challenge our journey, but it has only deepened our bond.

People sometimes ask how we stay so strong. The answer is simple but not easy—we choose to. We wake up each day and choose love, over fear. Laughter, over bitterness. Hope, over despair. Those choices make all the difference. They build resilience like layers of armor around the heart.

Choosing Resilience Every Day

Returning to What Grounds Me

With my doctor’s cautious green light, I went back to work. My return was not about denial or distraction. It was about reclaiming normalcy. Each task I completed at my desk became a victory against the grip of Glioblastoma. Work became a quiet rebellion, a way to say, “I am still me.”

There is comfort in the familiar, even if everything else feels uncertain. The rhythm of emails, phone calls, and small wins at work gave me a sense of control that Glioblastoma could not touch. And beyond the productivity, being part of a team again reminded me of my worth and my value. I am not just a patient—I am a contributor. That realization lit a fire in me to keep showing up, no matter what.

Refusing to Stop Learning

Even when confined to a hospital bed, I kept studying. I completed assignments and watched lectures, refusing to let Glioblastoma steal my dreams. Education gave me a sense of purpose. It reminded me that cancer could change my schedule—but not my goals.

Every book I read, every note I took, was a way to reclaim my mind. I wanted to stay sharp, curious, and engaged. In many ways, learning helped me heal. It gave me something to look forward to and something to hold onto that was mine and mine alone. Glioblastoma may challenge my body, but my mind is still a powerful force.

Strengthening My Relationships

Every evening, I made time to connect with my husband. No distractions. No pretense. Just presence. We shared stories, sat in silence, and held hands. Our time together reaffirmed that Glioblastoma may take away my energy or my hair, but it could not take away love. And it would never take away the importance of human connection.

We also opened up more to friends and extended family. I started having deeper conversations than I had in years. The vulnerability of this diagnosis stripped away surface-level interactions and replaced them with honest, meaningful connections. Glioblastoma brought pain—but it also brought truth. And with that truth came a new kind of closeness with those I care about most.

The Power of Active Listening

During my quieter moments between treatments, I discovered the beauty of simply listening. No pressure to speak. Just being there, in the moment, with someone else. That calm presence—without words—often meant more than any advice I could give. It helped me connect more deeply, even in silence.

I learned that when we slow down and stop trying to fill every moment with noise, there is room for healing. Sometimes what someone needs most is to be heard—or to know they are not alone in the silence. Glioblastoma slowed me down enough to finally realize that.

Embracing Self-Care

Living with Glioblastoma is emotionally and physically draining. That is why I made time to care for myself. Whether it was a long bath, a massage, or walking in nature, I claimed those moments. They were not indulgences—they were necessities. And so was writing. Starting this blog gave me space to reflect, to vent, and to share. Writing became my therapy, a safe place where Glioblastoma did not get the final say.

I also began meditating more. Just five or ten minutes in the morning helped me face the day with more intention. I lit candles, I journaled, I watched the sun rise. These small acts became sacred rituals. They reminded me that even when things feel out of control, I can still create peace within.

Glioblastoma Did Not Rewrite My Soul

Still Me, Always Me

Glioblastoma may have changed my path, but it did not change my essence. I still laugh loudly. I still love deeply. I still dream big. I still fight. It may challenge my body, but it has not broken my spirit.

Each day I live, I am making a choice: to show up, to rise again, to be authentically me. That is my triumph. Not because Glioblastoma never scared me—but because I keep going anyway. That is what it means to stay true to yourself.

I still cry sometimes. I still worry. But I also still hope. I still show up. I still chase meaning. That is the core of who I am. Glioblastoma did not take that from me. And it never will.

My name is Johnathan. I have Glioblastoma. But Glioblastoma does not have me.

Helpful Resources

• National Brain Tumor Society
• American Brain Tumor Association
• JohnVsGBM Blog – for survivor stories and support

Tags: Glioblastoma, Brain Cancer, Staying Strong with Cancer, Cancer Resilience, Love and Illness, Brain Tumor Stories, Cancer and Marriage, Cancer Self-Care, Emotional Healing, Fighting Glioblastoma, Daily Strength, Coping with Brain Cancer