SCIENCE EPISODE

They Found an Aneurysm In My Brain: My MRI Story

Video transcription : They Found an Aneurysm in my Brain: my MRI Story

I didn’t have a panic attack, but I just left the room — I just left my body. I was like, “What is going on? I thought you were going to tell me that I was perfectly fine and healthy, and you’re telling me…”

Hello angels, and welcome back to the Glucose Goddess Show. My name is Jessie Inchauspé, your favorite French biochemist — I think I can say that.

Today I wanted to do a sort of special episode: I wanted to talk about something personal that happened to me, in case it’s of interest and helps you in your health journey.

About a year and a half ago, I decided to have a full-body MRI scan. The reason was to make sure there was no early cancer in my body; I thought it could give me peace of mind, because so many people around me are getting these diseases younger and younger. I went to one of those companies that do full-body MRI scans and, let me tell you, the results were not what I expected — kind of crazy.

First, how do MRI machines work? They’re massive machines that look inside your body using magnets and radio waves. I was lying in the MRI machine, watching a documentary, while the machine worked around my body. An MRI is a big magnet — compared to a fridge magnet, it’s about 5,000 times stronger. Importantly, you can’t turn a fridge magnet on and off, but you can turn an MRI magnet on and off. These magnets are so powerful that if you were in the machine with your phone in your pocket, the phone would fly to the magnet because anything metallic is attracted almost instantly. Your body is made of trillions of atoms, many of them hydrogen. Once you get inside the big MRI magnet, it makes those hydrogen atoms align in the same direction. This is not dangerous; you don’t feel it, it has no consequences. Once the atoms are lined up, the MRI sends a radio wave through your body that gently nudges them out of alignment; as they realign, the MRI listens for the echoes. Different tissues — organs, bone, muscle — give different echoes, and the machine uses them to recreate images inside your body. It’s very cool technology and, unlike X-rays, it’s not harmful, which is why I was excited to try it. I was in the machine, having a great time, thinking, “For sure I’m super healthy.”

A few weeks later, I got a phone call from the doctors. (You guys know I’ve been doing my glucose hacks religiously — they’re the foundation of my dietary habits — and adding the molecules in Anti-Spike has allowed me to get to the next level: one, bloating — I feel so much better; two, energy levels — super consistent, eagle energy all day; three, sugar cravings — I love sugar, but Anti-Spike has given me a superpower over cravings. I know these natural molecules will help my long-term fasting glucose and fasting insulin, key to physical and mental health and healthy aging. Go to anti-spike.com to see the science, testimonials from thousands who’ve tried it, and to order your own Anti-Spike Formula bottle.)

First image they showed me: my brain in the MRI. Around my teeth area it’s dark, like a cloud — I have a permanent retainer that messes with the MRI signal; any metal causes this kind of shadow. Then things got scary. The doctor said, “We found something really interesting.” I thought, “Cool, interesting sounds good.” He said, “We found an aneurysm in your brain.” Cue all my blood leaving my body. I was in shock: “An aneurysm? I’ve only heard that they kill people.” He said they found a 4 mm aneurysm in my left internal carotid artery, basically behind my eyes. I was terrified. I didn’t have a panic attack, but I mentally checked out: “I thought you’d tell me I’m perfectly fine and you’re telling me there’s an aneurysm in my brain. Does that mean I’m going to die? Have a stroke? Is this dangerous? Can we do anything?” Here’s an image of it — a small, 4 mm bulge. As a healthy 30-year-old, I never thought they would find anything. Cold shower. First lesson: if you do a scan, be prepared — hopefully nothing shows, but something can.

They also showed me a video — I’ll point an arrow — of the blood vessels in the middle of my brain with the little aneurysm on one of them. Honestly, I was almost passing out from stress. The doctor was like, “We found this aneurysm; okay, let’s move on to your metabolism.” He also said, “This is good — finding an aneurysm is like Christmas for a doctor.” I thought, “What do you mean Christmas? I’m having an anxiety attack.” He explained they love to find these things because they’re usually benign and monitoring can prevent issues. Personally, it was rough; I was stressed for months as I worked through follow-up and what to do. I thought I had something in my brain that could rupture at any moment. An aneurysm is essentially a little malformation — a bulge in a blood vessel — which makes the vessel weaker; if it ruptures, you bleed into the brain, which can be very bad: death, lifelong consequences. A normal vessel is smooth; with an aneurysm you see that bulge. As I calmed down and read the research, I realized unruptured aneurysms — what I have — are really common: about 1 in 30 people worldwide (~3%) have an unruptured aneurysm, and most never find out because they don’t get full-body MRIs. If it never ruptures, you’ll never have issues; if it ruptures, that’s where problems start. While ~3% have an unruptured aneurysm, only ~0.001% of people will ever have a ruptured aneurysm — reassuring, though I still wondered: “Is mine bad? Big? Risky? How long has it been there?” About 85% of all unruptured aneurysms are in the Circle of Willis — the set of blood vessels in the center of the brain — exactly where mine is. With that info and after processing the freak-out, I sought follow-up care. I found a specialist and showed him my MRI. First reaction: “Why did you do a full-body MRI?” Then he said the next step was an angiogram to get a more precise image, because MRI isn’t that precise. They inserted a small catheter in my wrist, threaded it up to my brain, released a dye briefly, and took an X-ray at the same time. The photo they got is very detailed — much more than the MRI.

The good news: my aneurysm was small and benign enough that it’s better to leave it than to embolize it (placing a little coil to block it off). The risk of surgery was greater than the risk of rupture. About four months after the MRI, I had this result. I felt better, still nervous; I felt truly better a year later after a follow-up MRI showed it hadn’t grown. Overall, a stressful experience. Honestly, I’m not sure I’m happy I know — maybe I’d have preferred not to — because the stress was hard to move through.

But I did learn one thing we should all remember: the first symptom of a ruptured aneurysm is a very, very bad, intense headache. If I suddenly have the worst headache of my life, I need to rush to the ER.

That’s my takeaway. I wanted to share in case it’s helpful. I’m curious: would you want to know, or not? Tell me in the comments — I want to know how you feel. I’m still not really sure. Okay, I’ll see you next time. Lots of love.

I want to share something a bit personal today.

A couple of years ago, I decided to do a full health checkup — not because anything was wrong, but out of curiosity. I just wanted peace of mind, to catch anything early (like cancer), and to feel like I was on top of my health. So I signed up for one of those full-body MRI scans.

I thought it would be cool to know. But what actually happened was… a bit intense.

How a full body MRI scans works

So, quick science moment — how do MRIs actually work?

An MRI (Magnetic Resonance Imaging) like a magical camera that can see inside your body without touching it. But instead of using regular light, like your phone camera does, it uses magnets and radio waves.

Here’s how it works, step by step:

1) When you lie down inside the MRI machine, you're entering a giant magnet.

This magnet is super strong. If you compare it to a fridge magnet, it’s about 5,000 times stronger. But unlike a fridge magnet, you can turn the MRi magnet on and off.

2) Your body is made up of trillions of tiny particles called atoms, and many of them are hydrogen atoms (especially because your body is mostly water–and water is hydrogen + oxygen). These hydrogen atoms are a bit like tiny spinning tops, and the big magnet makes them all line up in the same direction.

3) Once your hydrogen atoms are all lined up, the machine sends radio waves to them. It’s like giving them a gentle nudge or "push," and they start spinning in a different way, like they’re wobbling around.

4) When the radio waves stop, the hydrogen atoms slowly go back to their original lined-up positions. As they do, they give off little signals, like tiny echoes. The MRI machine "listens" to these signals.

5) The MRI machine collects all those signals and uses them to create detailed images of the inside of your body. Different tissues (like muscles, fat, and organs) give off different signals, so the machine can tell them apart and create a clear picture.

The cool thing about MRI is that it doesn’t use any harmful radiation, like X-rays or CT scans do. It just relies on magnets and radio waves, making it a super safe way to look inside your body and see what’s going on.

The scan was easy… but then came The Call

So there I was, lying in the MRI machine, headphones on, casually watching a documentary. It felt like no big deal.

Then a few weeks later, I got the results. They sent me my brain scan (which looked really cool). But then… the doctor said something that made my blood run cold.

“We found an aneurysm in your brain."

Ummm… WHAT.

The stress of “knowing”

Honestly, the moment they told me, I almost passed out. Suddenly, I knew there was this thing inside my head that could — maybe — kill me. But also, maybe not.

What do you even do with that information?

What even is an aneurysm?

If you’re like me, hearing “aneurysm” immediately makes you think of strokes and sudden death. But here’s what I learned:

  • An aneurysm is like a tiny balloon or bulge in a blood vessel.

  • It’s a weak spot where the blood vessel wall isn’t as strong as it should be.

  • If it stays intact, nothing happens.

  • If it ruptures, that’s when things get dangerous — it can cause bleeding in the brain (a hemorrhage), which is often life-threatening.

The stats? About 3.2% of people have an unruptured aneurysm (that’s about 1 in 30 people), and most never know it. Ruptured aneurysms are much rarer: about 10 per 100,000 people per year. (read study)

Mine was a small 3x4mm pouch on my left internal carotid artery, behind my eyes. The technical term? Supraclinoid segment aneurysm. Not something you ever want to hear about your own brain.

Getting answers (and feeling super alone)

The company that did my scan didn’t exactly shine here. They said they’d refer me to a specialist, but they never followed up. No check-ins. No support. I don’t have some fancy medical team on speed dial, so I felt completely alone and panicked.

I ended up asking around, reaching out to doctor friends, and finally getting an appointment with a specialist — after waiting three more stressful weeks.

When I saw the specialist, they kind of side-eyed me for doing a full-body MRI in the first place (because, as they said, “When you look, you find”). But honestly? I was so glad I did.

The next step: an angiogram

The next step was to figure out whether the aneurysm needed to be treated. Sometimes they can block off the bulge with a little coil, preventing rupture. But sometimes, the risks of treatment are actually higher than just leaving it alone.

To decide, they sent me for an angiogram — a procedure where they snake a tiny tube through your arm (or leg) up into your brain, inject dye, and then take super precise X-rays of your blood vessels.

Was it stressful? Yep. But I really wanted answers.

The verdict: leave it alone (but keep watching)

After all the tests, the conclusion was: my aneurysm is small enough and stable enough that the risk of trying to fix it is higher than the risk of leaving it as-is.

I get an MRI done once a year to make sure it hasn’t grown. And so far, so good.

Some people can have much bigger ones, which are more likely to rupture. The smaller it is, the lower the risk of rupture.

And the rupture is really the danger here. If it ruptures, then you have a brain hemorrhage (a bleed in your brain) which can lead to death or permanent disability. If the rupture is caught early enough, it can sometimes be treated (currently about 30% of ruptured aneurysms in the US have a positive outcome). (read study)

Would you want to know?

This whole experience left me wondering: Is it better to know? Or not know?

On one hand, I live with the anxiety of knowing there’s something in my brain that could (but probably won’t) rupture. On the other hand, if I ever get a sudden, awful headache (which can be a symptom of a ruptured aneurysm), I’ll know to get to the ER immediately.

I still don’t know if I’m grateful or regretful. But I am glad I can talk about it now — because these things are more common than we think, and no one really tells you what it feels like to find out.