A frightening and unusual symptom led to a diagnosis that changed everything for this mother of four. After months of living with the uncertainty of an unruptured brain aneurysm, she underwent successful treatment in May 2026. She now shares her journey of fear, resilience, and hope to support others facing a similar path.

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When I was diagnosed with a brain aneurysm, my whole world changed. Before that, I didn’t know much about aneurysms other than the scary stories you hear. Suddenly, I had one, and I was living every day knowing it was there.

What makes my story even more unusual is how it was discovered. I woke up one morning at 5am feeling like I had been crying in my sleep, only to learn I was actually bleeding from my eye. Something I had never heard of before and something that scared me! Doctor’s had never even seen such a thing.

After several specialists, doctors visits and ER visits I was sent for series of MRI/MRA’s. I remember the phone call from my doctor. It hadn’t even been 10 minutes after getting home from the imaging, when she told me that a brain aneurysm was found and was sending me to a neurosurgeon first thing Monday. That entire weekend I let myself feel whatever I needed to, sad, scared, uncertain… as a mother of 4, I thought about my babies. I cried and let it all out because I know come Monday, I had to be ready for anything.

My aneurysm was located on my right internal carotid artery. It measured about 5-7 mm. While some people may hear that size and think it’s “small,” when it’s in your own brain, it doesn’t feel small at all.

Part of my journey included having a cerebral angiogram. Going into that procedure was scary but I knew it would provide the most detailed look at the aneurysm and help determine the best treatment plan. While I was grateful to finally get answers, seeing the aneurysm confirmed and knowing exactly where it was made everything feel much more real.

The time between diagnosis and treatment was honestly one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through. For months, my aneurysm was one of the first things I thought about when I woke up and one of the last things I thought about before I went to sleep. I lived in constant fear. Every headache, every strange sensation, every dizzy spell made me wonder if something was wrong. I found myself questioning everything my body did. Even though I tried to stay positive, there were many days when the anxiety was overwhelming.

I also struggled with feeling guilty for being scared. I knew there were people facing much bigger health battles, and I knew many people had survived aneurysms and gone through much worse than I had. Sometimes I felt like I shouldn’t be as afraid as I was. Looking back now, I’ve learned that fear doesn’t work that way. Just because someone else has a harder journey doesn’t make your own fears any less real.

One of the things that helped me the most was finding support groups. I spent a lot of time looking for people who understood what it was like to live with a brain aneurysm while waiting for treatment. Connecting with others who were living with aneurysms, awaiting surgery, recovering, or years out from their diagnosis made me feel less alone. They understood the fears and thoughts that I couldn’t always explain to other people. Reading their stories gave me hope and reminded me that there were people who had made it through this and were living normal lives.

On May 27, 2026, I underwent endovascular surgery to treat the aneurysm with a flow diverter stent. Despite all the fear leading up to it, the procedure itself went well. I spent two nights in the hospital, including time in the critical care unit, before being discharged home. What makes that date even more memorable is that the day after my surgery was my birthday. I spent my birthday in the hospital recovering, and honestly, it was one of the greatest gifts I could have received — another year of life and the knowledge that my aneurysm had finally been treated.

Walking into the hospital that morning was terrifying, but walking out knowing the aneurysm had been treated brought a level of relief that is hard to put into words.

Recovery hasn’t been a straight line. There have been good days and difficult days, moments of relief and moments of anxiety. I’ve learned that healing is not just physical—it’s emotional too. Even after treatment, there are times when I still worry, but those worries no longer control every part of my day the way they once did.

Today, I’m incredibly grateful. Grateful for my doctors, nurses, family, friends, and the strangers in support groups who took the time to share their experiences when I needed them most. This journey changed me in ways I never expected. It taught me not to take things for granted, to appreciate ordinary moments, and to give myself grace when I’m scared.

If there’s one thing I’d want someone else facing an aneurysm to know, it’s this: you’re not alone. The fear is real. The waiting is hard. It’s okay to be scared. There is a community of people who understand, and there is hope on the other side of it.

The Brain Aneurysm Foundation gave me something I desperately needed after my diagnosis: hope. It connected me with people who understood my fears, answered questions I was afraid to ask, and reminded me that I wasn’t alone while waiting for treatment. Knowing there were others who had survived and were living full lives helped me get through some of the hardest days of my journey.