Now that I was diagnosed, the story gets juicy (before, during, and after surgery)
“Upon waking, let your first thought be THANK YOU”
I don’t think anyone was more emotionally detached than me on this day except Kristen Stewart, everyday. Prior to being admitted Monday, I went shopping at Target on Sunday for an outfit.. I’m not sure why I felt that was necessary, but I did. As if the fashion police would say- “‘stop right there!’ you don’t have a brain tumor, your outfit is too good”. The outfit was not only a stupid idea and a waste of money, but the doctors, nurses, and everyone around me didn’t even care or notice so it was stupid all together. I truthfully think it was more of a mental thing, like if I went in with the mindset of “look good, feel good” it would stop me from coming out "looking like shit, feeling like shit". Plot twist: it didn’t. As soon as I was admitted I had to change into the dreaded, backless hospital gown and those thick brown hospital socks that are neither comfortable nor cute.
In addition to being clueless with messed up priorities prior to surgery, I remember telling my mother I did not want everyone to come see me off to surgery because they were all sad and scared and I wasn’t, so I didn’t want them to kill my vibe. But asking loved ones to stay away before you go somewhere you may or may not return from is like asking Kim K for her hand-me-downs, it just won’t happen. We were only allowed 2 visitors in the room at a time (so there I am, internally rebelling, surrounded by 9 people). I was so detached from the situation I really didn’t feel like we were all sitting there waiting for me to go have brain surgery, but then they called for me over the loud-speaker and said I was ready for pre-op. Shit was getting real and I was not ready.
I get transferred from my hospital bed to the gurney and brought down to the surgical floor. Everyone was looking at me as if I was being transferred in a casket instead of on a gurney, and that was unexplainably scary. I assumed it would be at this point I would part ways with my supportive loved ones there to see me off, but nope. They stayed with me the entire way. I was now in pre-op laying there in my surgical cap looking down at all my family who was looking back at me the way I’d imagine someone would look at a dead puppy. I remember thinking “guys, it’s not a big deal, stop looking at me, you’re being weird and freaking me out” but I didn’t say anything because I am lucky to be so loved and have so many supporters. But they were really freaking me out and my vibe was officially killed.
That’s when we parted ways, when I was brought into surgery. My surgeon took off my cap and put my hair into french braids (they were pretty good too, he must be a full-time surgeon, part-time hair dresser). I was so relieved I was able to keep my hair as they would be accessing my brain through the part in my braids on the back of my head. The surgical room was so cold with classical music playing. That music freaked me out because I felt like I was in an episode of Dexter (from Showtime). I was transferred from the gurney to a big cold steel table, now I was really in an episode of Dexter. I was facing up at the blue ceiling and remember thinking “this ceiling looks like a jeopardy board, only without the questions”. That’s literally the last thing I remember. I was about to do the scariest, hardest thing in my life: trust it in someone else’s hands. Luckily that someone else (the neurosurgeon) is extremely skilled and kind, and saved my life during that surgery instead of taking it.
This next part I’m gonna share is info I have either learned or been told, as I was heavily drugged and don’t really remember jack-shit. I wish I could tell this firsthand from some crazy out of body perspective, but I did not have an out of body experience and if I did, the last place I would spend it is onlooking the gory things that were taking place in that surgery room. I was woken up from a successful removal and brain surgery with drills in my head and about 25 IVs in my arm. It is to my understanding I woke up very closely resembling The Exorcist in the scene where her head is spinning and she was puking all over (only I am blonde, and my head was not spinning literally, only figuratively). I was green as an olive and puking uncontrollably, all over the place. This must have scared the crap out of my family, but again I was not scared because I could not see myself.
The few things I do remember after waking up is the doctors and nurses saying I would have to be sedated and intubated overnight if I did not calm down. But I was calm, I was high as a kite of course I was calm. They thought I was “going crazy” because I was talking gibberish and kept trying to roll over. I had no idea I could not and was not speaking so in my defense I thought I was saying “I just want to be comfortable, lay on my side, and go to sleep” and they were just ignoring me. Then I remember my fiancé coming in and me getting really excited because finally, someone who would not ignore me and would tell the doctors I was just trying to roll on my side and sleep. Unfortunately, my fiancé is not fluent in gibberish and he did not understand me either. Finally, my mother had enough and took control of the show. She’s been running this shit ever since. She told me lay down, cut it out, and be still or else I’d be restrained and intubated again. She told everyone to stop crying and man-up (I like the term woman-up better). She told the anesthesiologists and nurses to lower and switch my drugs (she’s an ER trauma nurse, so she was right, and they listened). Typing this all out makes me realize how crazy it really all was, and still is. I thought the worst was over, but recovery is a bitch.
