Laura Lynn Kunkes

Family and friends of Laura Kunkes are raising money for the nonprofit Help Hope Live to fund uninsured medical expenses associated with a catastrophic illness. Laura has chosen to fundraise with Help Hope Live in part because donations are tax deductible for contributors and will only be used to cover medical and related expenses.

My Journey: From Years of Being Told It Was Something Else to the Fight Ahead

For years, I have been going to doctors trying to understand what was happening to my body.

Headaches. Pressure in my head. Vision problems. Hormonal problems. Fatigue. Symptoms that never seemed to completely make sense. Appointment after appointment, test after test, specialist after specialist—and somehow, the answer remained out of reach.

I learned how to keep going.

I learned how to work through headaches.

I learned how to push through exhaustion.

I learned how to live with symptoms that I couldn’t always explain, because I never imagined that there could be something much bigger happening inside my head.

Then everything changed.

Years of Searching for Answers

For years, I have had medical issues that affected different parts of my life. Some symptoms were treated individually. Some were attributed to other conditions. I kept going back when something didn’t feel right.

My vision had been changing for years. I struggled with focusing and blurry vision, and there were times when I would bump into things. I also dealt with headaches and a feeling of intense pressure in the front and middle of my head.

There were hormonal issues too.

I have never had natural periods, and for years I had to deal with the consequences of my body not functioning normally in that area. I spent years taking progesterone and eventually saw specialists because I wanted answers about what was happening with my hormones and fertility.

Looking back now, I can’t help but wonder how many of those pieces were connected.

At the time, nobody knew.

And neither did I.

So I did what I have always done.

I kept going.

Then Came the Headaches

Eventually, the headaches became something I couldn’t ignore.

This wasn’t just an occasional headache.

It became constant pressure.

At one point, I had a headache for 35 days straight.

The pressure became intense. Looking upward could make it worse. My vision problems became increasingly concerning, including episodes where things could appear doubled or even tripled.

I knew something wasn’t right.

Then I fell and hit my head.

I went to the hospital, and that fall ended up revealing something that had apparently been growing inside my head for a long time.

Something I never knew was there.

The Discovery

The imaging showed a large mass involving my pituitary gland.

The first CT showed a pituitary mass extending upward toward the area of the optic chiasm—the part of the brain where the optic nerves cross.

The mass was roughly 2 centimeters in size.

Later, an MRI showed a lesion measuring approximately 25 × 22 × 16 millimeters.

Suddenly, years of symptoms had a completely different meaning.

This wasn’t simply a headache.

This wasn’t just vision trouble.

There was a large tumor sitting in one of the most delicate areas of my brain.

And it was pushing upward toward the structures responsible for my vision.

The Trip to UIC

My local doctors recognized that this wasn’t something they could simply handle routinely.

I was referred to University of Illinois Chicago, where I met with a neurosurgical team and specialists who deal with complex tumors like mine.

That appointment changed everything.

They explained that the tumor was large and in a difficult location.

The goal is to remove as much of it as safely possible.

But there is a major problem.

Part of the tumor is attached to or extremely close to the carotid artery.

That means the surgeons cannot simply remove everything without potentially putting my life or major brain structures at serious risk.

The plan is therefore not necessarily to remove every single cell surgically.

Instead, the surgeons will remove as much of the tumor as they safely can.

A portion may have to remain where it is attached to the carotid artery.

And afterward, I will likely need radiation treatment to address what remains.

So this isn’t simply:

“Have surgery and go home.”

This is a major neurological treatment journey.

The Surgery Ahead

The surgery I am facing is extensive.

The planned procedures involve an endoscopic approach through the nose and sinuses to reach the tumor, along with additional procedures necessary to safely access and manage it.

The surgical plan includes things such as:

• Endoscopic sinus surgery

• Septoplasty

• Endoscopic/transsphenoidal removal of the tumor

• Tumor excision

• Fat grafting

• Possible flap reconstruction

• Lumbar drain placement

• Stereotactic guidance

• Extensive skull-base surgical work

This isn’t a small procedure.

It is a major skull-base operation involving neurosurgery and ENT specialists working together.

I will have to spend time in the hospital afterward, including time in intensive care, while they watch me closely.

They will be monitoring things like my neurological status, vision, hormone levels, fluid balance, sodium levels, and other complications that can occur after pituitary and skull-base surgery.

And then comes recovery.

The Part People Don’t See

When people hear the word “brain surgery,” they might picture the operation itself.

But the surgery is only one part of this.

There is the preparation.

The appointments.

The bloodwork.

The scans.

The specialists.

The waiting.

The fear.

The phone calls.

The uncertainty.

The recovery.

And then radiation.

I have spent so much of my life trying to function while something was wrong inside my body.

Now I’m preparing to undergo one of the biggest medical battles of my life.

And I’m scared.

I won’t pretend I’m not.

I’m scared of the surgery.

I’m scared of waking up afterward.

I’m scared of what my vision will be like.

I’m scared of what the doctors might find.

I’m scared of the recovery.

I’m scared of radiation.

And I’m scared of how long it will take before I feel like myself again.

But I’m also determined.

I Want My Life Back

I want to work.

I want to be able to wake up without wondering how bad my head is going to hurt.

I want to see clearly.

I want to be able to make plans without wondering whether another medical appointment, test, or emergency is going to interrupt them.

I want to be able to enjoy my family.

I want to have a future that isn’t controlled by a tumor I didn’t even know was growing inside me.

And I want the opportunity to recover and rebuild.

I’ve already fought through years of appointments and symptoms.

Now I have to fight through this.

Why I’m Asking for Help

This is where I have to put my pride aside and ask for help.

Medical treatment doesn’t stop at the hospital doors.

There are expenses that come with being sick that people don’t always see.

Travel to specialists.

Gas.

Parking.

Food while traveling.

Medications.

Medical supplies.

Time away from work.

Lost wages.

Bills that don’t stop simply because you are sick.

And recovery means that I may not be able to return to work immediately.

Even after the tumor is removed, I will still have recovery ahead of me.

And then radiation.

That means this isn’t going to be a short chapter.

It’s going to be a long road.

I Never Expected to Be Here

If you had asked me years ago if I thought I would someday be preparing for major brain surgery, I would have said absolutely not.

I never imagined that the headaches and vision problems I had been living with could eventually lead to a diagnosis like this.

I never imagined hearing that a tumor was large enough and positioned in such a difficult place that surgeons couldn’t safely remove all of it.

I never imagined hearing the words brain surgery and radiation in reference to my own life.

But here I am.

And I’m choosing to fight.

What Your Support Means

If you donate, you aren’t just helping pay a bill.

You’re helping me get to appointments.

You’re helping me travel to the specialists who can treat this.

You’re helping cover expenses while I’m unable to work.

You’re helping me get through the recovery period.

You’re helping me focus on healing instead of constantly worrying about how I’m going to make ends meet.

And if you can’t donate, sharing this story means just as much.

A share could reach someone who knows someone.

Someone who understands.

Someone who has been through something similar.

Someone who might be able to help.

My Next Chapter

For a long time, I was searching for an answer.

Now I finally have one.

It’s not the answer I wanted.

But at least I know what I’m fighting.

There is a tumor.

It is large.

It is in a complicated location.

It is affecting structures around it.

And I am preparing for a major surgery to remove as much as safely possible.

Then comes the next battle.

Radiation.

Recovery.

Rebuilding my strength.

And learning what my new normal looks like.

I don’t know exactly what the next few months will bring.

I don’t know exactly how long recovery will take.

I don’t know what every step of treatment will look like yet.

But I do know this:

I am not giving up.

I’ve made it through years of symptoms, appointments, tests, uncertainty, and unanswered questions.

Now I’m going to face this head-on.

I’m going to walk into that hospital knowing that there are people behind me.

People praying for me.

People checking on me.

People sharing my story.

People helping me.

And people reminding me that I don’t have to do this alone.

This is my fight.

This is my story.

And hopefully, this is the beginning of the chapter where I finally get my life back.

Thank you for reading my story, for supporting me, for sharing it, and for standing beside me through what may be one of the hardest battles of my life.

❤️