cameracurl

Hey it's me. cameracurl / Sebastian. A german based introvert photographer living the nostalgic vibe between analog and digital photography with leica. 

Start with why - why photography? 

For me, photography has always been both an addiction and a passion. It’s the possibility to create and freeze a moment in time, to capture something unique, and to make people pause, stare, or smile when they see their photos. There’s nothing that ignites my soul more than photography.

Carrying my camera and creating art is one of the special things in my life that I can’t live without. Being a creative person sometimes drains your mind and soul, but it’s worth it—it gives life a deeper meaning.

My Story - Primary Hyperparathyroidism

If you notice the picture of me down here, you’ll see an incision on my neck—that’s from my surgery in September 2024. After a decade of no or incorrect treatment, I was finally diagnosed with primary hyperparathyroidism, which had made me sick for the last 34 years of my life. Sometimes it felt like ADHD on steroids: massive brain fog, extreme overstimulation, and feeling like an 80-year-old trapped in my body. I suffered from aching muscles and tendons, couldn’t gain muscle mass, experienced extreme thirst, and endured weight fluctuations. It felt as if I had life-threatening conditions like heart rhythm failure, and so on, there were times I thought was stupid because I was so different to other people.

Photography didn’t feel good anymore; nothing did. There were times I thought I wouldn’t make it through the night. About 15 years ago, I noticed my severe illness when I felt different from everyone else—my behavior and brain weren’t functioning as they should. It took another 15 years to finally get to surgery; in retrospect, it destroyed my whole life. My stomach stopped working properly as it was attacked by high calcium levels, just like every other part of my body. The most frustrating part was that no one believed me. I knew I was ill and that something was wrong, but trying to explain to doctors that you know exactly what you have—they act strangely.

I couldn’t concentrate; my mind felt like it was always in overdrive. I wanted to run but wasn’t able to. I couldn’t listen or read anymore. My headaches and inability to sleep were driving me crazy. I tried running and going to the gym, but calcium had infiltrated my muscles, and the daily pain made me feel like I was 80 years old.

I wasn’t able to carry more than a bag at once and started to see so poorly that I needed glasses. It was like I lost the “3D” in my vision. This was because of calcium crystals in my eyes, which I could see each morning after waking up. This was five years ago.

In 2014, I got the first real evidence that I was right all along—a blood test from a hospital visit due to sudden unconsciousness. My calcium level was above normal, but no one cared. Since then, in each of my numerous blood tests as my health worsened, the calcium was high, and magnesium and vitamin D were low. In differential diagnosis, this is an alarming sign, but again—nobody cared. Meanwhile, my heart problems became so severe that I was misdiagnosed with Wolff-Parkinson-White Syndrome—a heart condition resulting in an unwanted electrical pathway between the ventricles, leading to arrhythmia. An electrophysiological examination was done to fix this issue by closing the pathway through cryoablation in my heart, but they didn’t find anything there. Yet, the blood test results continued to show abnormal calcium levels.

After going from doctor to doctor with more and more symptoms, I kept pushing for my self-diagnosis until I convinced a doctor to refer me for a tumor scintigraphy of my neck. In the meantime, I visited endocrinology specialists who also didn’t diagnose me correctly. They said my condition stemmed from low vitamin D levels and was secondary hyperparathyroidism. This was not true and could have been easily ruled out through differential diagnosis. When the scintigraphy results came in, they found a 2 cm tumor growing on my parathyroid gland. Now I had it in black and white—I was right all along. This was so important because there were moments when I became really depressed and thought I was imagining all this. In the meantime, I was also diagnosed with osteopenia because calcium was being leached from my bones into my bloodstream, leading to many fractures over the last decade.

Surgery — The Most Important Day of My Life So Far

It wasn’t an easy surgery because I have "von Willebrand disease", which can lead to excessive bleeding.

The evening after my surgery was like waking up from a nightmare. No, really—it was that extreme, like being reborn. It was incredible.

The first thing I noticed was my brain. It was empty—truly empty. It felt like someone had silenced an annoying voice; the brain fog lifted instantly.

The second thing I noticed was how sharply I could see; I didn’t need my glasses anymore. It was like seeing in color again, regaining the ability to truly perceive the world.

The third thing was that my skin started to peel, and all the excess sebum came out. Before my surgery, my skin was kind of greasy and damp.

The day after the surgery, I felt amazing. I was astonished, shocked, and couldn’t believe it.

From there on, things got better and better. Exactly four weeks after surgery, my stomach started to work again. For the first time in my life, I was able to enjoy life. I mean really enjoy it—just standing outside in the sun and being present, without my mind racing like a car on overdrive. I was allowed to enjoy life again.

My overall body pain disappeared; my eyes could see people far away once more. And the best thing: I was able to see through my Leica without glasses again. My mood improved as the fear in my thoughts began to fade. It was like a darkness and shadow had been lifted from my mind.

My endurance grew; my strength improved. I was now able to go outside and take walks again. In the first weeks, it was like I was craving being outside and walking, like my body wanted and needed it so deeply.

As of writing this, it’s two months since the surgery, and I’m stunned by what my brain is capable of. Since my brain is no longer overstimulated, it has space to grow and work better again (though I think it will need some more time). I started to remember better, to be calmer, to have clearer thoughts, and to think in the correct order—before, it felt like I was constantly stumbling and falling. I was diagnosed with ADHD a few years ago, but it feels like that was ripped out by the surgery.

I had the feeling that I could be able to imagine, to see pictures in my head. What I never been able to before. There is so much more of both sides of this story, but I think I'm done for now.

For the first time, I feel great again—like my life has changed for the better.

My girlfriend said about this time, “There is a sparkle in your eyes again.”

Thank you.