My Story

Every brain tumor patient has "The Day." That day, that meeting, that phone call, that will change your life forever. It's when your doctor says, "You have a brain tumor.”

Unlike other injuries I had throughout my life and in my athletic career, this news hit differently. The brain is unlike any other body part; it is the hub and epicenter of your consciousness and who you are as a person. The tidal wave of emotion and outright terror is unlike anything I've ever experienced. 

The questions racing through my mind were endless. Will I remember my past? Will I be able to walk? Will I forget my friends? Will I have problems with speech? And oh yea, the other awkward elephant in the room was I will now don a 10-inch scar, a question mark etched into the side of my head. Ironically, this question mark will be staring back at me for the rest of my life; it feels somewhat symbolic. 

The emotional toll it took on my immediate family and friends was unimaginable. In some instances, friendships were strained or outright shattered. Those you interact with daily will offer their condolences in the form of compassion, not realizing that each salutation feels like one step closer to having a foot in the grave. I remember distinctly saying to people, "I'm not dead yet.”

See, the thing is, for better or worse, as a strength coach, as an entrepreneur, and as an athlete, I've always been too dumb to be scared. For as long as I can remember, when people say something is impossible, I make it my focus and outright obsession to do what others can't and won't ever be able to repeat. Throughout the years, my profession and passions have allowed me to meet billionaires, Hall of Fame athletes, and some of the brightest minds in human performance. It was those experiences that I would reflect on to develop a game plan on how to attack my most significant challenge – fighting my tumor. As I always do, I set an official Game Day on the calendar for surgery and got to work.

The weeks leading up to surgery were focused on becoming as mentally resilient and motivated as possible. Preparing the proper documentation in case things went wrong was more complicated than I thought, you'll know what I mean when you sign your last will and testament. The other aspects of coordinating medical care, transportation to appointments, and food preparation were valuable learning lessons. Some things I did well and some things I would have done differently. 

On Game Day, this could be an entirely separate post for later, but as could be expected... it was tough. Post-surgery was broken up into three phases. Acute phase in the hospital, Rehab and trying to get back to efficiently doing the everyday tasks, and Return to Life. This was getting back to “normal”. Each phase was documented with highs and lows, things I handled well, and things I wish no one ever has to endure. 

In every instance, I drew upon my previous experiences as a CEO, a director of strength and conditioning, and an entrepreneur to take the most strategic approach possible to the situation, and I think it helped. Everything from positive affirmations, to using an Oura ring to get my diaphragm working again after anesthesia. It wasn't until going through this that I realized many of the other patients on my floor and in my Tumor Group didn't fare as well.

This was why I felt compelled to give back and put my energy into creating 40 Staples Strong. Affectionately referring to the 40 staples used on my scar, 40 Staples Strong is designed to be a digital resource and team for anyone suffering from a brain tumor. From knowing how to properly set up an Amazon dash button and an Instacart account to the little things of knowing what ice pack stays cold without being too hard makes all the difference. Lastly, recovery is a team sport, and everyone deserves a team. Each stage of the process has various shareholders. Ultimately, the lack of coordination between these leaves room for error, and things fall through the cracks. Our mission is to mend that.

My hope is, that as we grow this foundation, we can build a community of patients, survivors, and professionals to help those just beginning the fight. There are roughly 18,000 tumor patients annually, so I expect this team to grow quickly. My hope is for every donation to be focused, direct, and personal. Our goals and milestones will be listed on the website and updated as we complete them and move on to our next objectives. We will be looking for donations to produce "Game Day" Backpacks that will be filled with items for patients to go home upon discharge with and the development of a digital forum for patients to log in and connect with resources at both the local and national level.

Additionally, we know that other survivors are out there, and we look to offer a spot in our foundation to create a support group that has lived firsthand the roller coaster of emotions that brain tumors bring. Please sign up for our email list if you would like to receive updates. These lists are not for resale or marketing purposes, they are a way for us to share our success stories and provide transparency about how we spend our money and the impact it has made on the lives of every individual we meet. 

If you are reading this, you must realize you are a simple message away from getting help. More importantly, now you have a team of people ready to stand beside you, and if you’re from Boston like me, you know we love a good fight.

#letsgo

Thomas Newman