The Whole Story: Part Six - The Big Event

 

Monday, April 24th, we headed up to the hospital bright and early. There were very few people scheduled for surgery that morning so they got us back right away. My PACU nurse had recently transferred from the ICU. He was used to running Central lines, and I got to be his Guinea pig/pin cushion to practice his IV skills. He did much better than the nurse in the emergency department a couple of weeks ago, so I didn't complain. I was dealing with some nausea, probably because I hadn't eaten breakfast, so they introduced me to something called a queasy. It's in aromatherapy pod that you clip to your gown to help with nausea. It has citrus, ginger, and fennel scents. It actually helped a lot and became something I asked for multiple times during my stay. It's nice to have something that helps without side effects. They took me back initially without my husband, which really stressed him out. In the past, they haven't separated us until I went in for surgery. I made sure to ask for him as soon as possible. It sounds like when the nurse went out to call him back he startled her with how quickly he jumped up! The rest of my family rolled into the waiting room before it was time for me to go in for surgery, so I felt better knowing there was someone there to sit with my husband. Each of the doctors came back to visit with me. I stand by my initial assessment of my surgeon that he has an amazing bedside manner and truly cares for his patients. He was hopeful and encouraging. The anesthesiologist listened to all of my concerns and reassured me that he would do his best. After the anecdotal case studies I had read, my biggest concern was a balance between pain meds and nausea. The surgeon had emphasized previously how important it was not to vomit after surgery, and I have an almost phobic level aversion to it anyways, so I kept asking anybody who would sit still to emphasize the anti-nausea meds. It was a waste of breath. When the time came, they asked me if I would like something in my IV for anxiety. I hadn't thought that through ahead of time, so if you're reading this with curiosity for your own surgery, consider it. I hate having to make on the spot decisions like that. I really wanted the anti-anxiety, but I felt like it was cheating or copping out. If memory serves, my husband very kindly encouraged me to do it if I wanted to, and I remember nothing after that point.

    What took place while I was in a state of blissful ignorance was a 6-hour surgery where they cut out a portion of my skull (craniotomy) and then removed a piece of my vertebrae (laminectomy) so that they would have access to my tumor which was located between the cerebellum and the brain stem at the 4th ventricle (where the arrow points in the photo below). Then the surgeon skillfully maneuvered to remove as much of the tumor as possible, but a fair amount was attached to my cerebellum and would cause more harm to remove. When he finished, they put in a metal plate to replace the piece of skull they had removed and reattached everything, then sewed me up!

    The anesthesiologist had done a fabulous job with keeping me under during the surgery, but the scariest part for my family came over the next 24 hours. They basically told my family that the only way to know if I would be ok is if I woke up, and I didn't - at least not well or for very long. My memory of that time period is very dark, punctuated by moments of awareness, primarily of blinding pain followed by nausea, vomiting, and sweet oblivion. My husband's experience was much more traumatic. It was made clear to him that he had to get me to wake up, or else. So every half hour or so there was shaking, yelling, begging. The nurses tried every trick they knew, but this was beyond them. You'd better bet there was some praying going on in that hospital room that night. To my husband's credit, he didn't give up. He didn't say, "Well, we tried," and go home. All night long, all morning, into the afternoon. Eventually, my waking moments were longer, less punctuated by pain and nausea. Moments strung together into minutes, and at some point it was determined that I was out of the woods. They monitored me for another 24 hours at ICU level care which basically involves having a nurse check your vitals every hour and being hooked up to machines that are constantly watching you. At this point they said I was ready to be downgraded to "acute" level care, but the hospital was full so they just changed the level of care I received in my ICU room.

    An ICU room is simpler than you might think, just a bed and basic monitoring equipment. No TV, no bathroom. My room had a window, but my roommate didn't have the benefit of it since we were separated by curtains. Another thing my ICU room didn't have that I didn't have the presence of mind to ask for was a cot for my husband. We were very blessed that they let him stay, but I guess no one noticed he was sleeping on a chair with his feet propped up on the commode? That's what they give you instead of a toilet in the ICU, a commode. It's basically a bucket with a seat on top. Fun. He's a trooper though. I don't think he slept at all that first night and then he must have been so tired he could sleep anywhere the second night.

    So we spent two full days of ICU level care followed by one day of acute level care in the ICU. Then they were able to find me a regular room. The best part of the regular room? A cot for my husband! You should have seen the joy on his face! Having a bathroom where I could close the door was pretty awesome too :). It's funny the things you begin to appreciate when your life gets simplified. 

    On Tuesday, as I emerged from the fog, my oldest son and his girlfriend came to visit me. The next day, my mom came by on her way home from visiting with her mom and sister up north. Finally, on Thursday, my dear friend, Kris, came by my fancy new hospital room. She brought a prayer plant for me, they call it that because in the evening the leaves fold up like praying hands. I can't tell you how sweet and meaningful visitors are when you're in the hospital. It feels a little upside down because at home I usually pick things up and try to put my best foot forward for guests whereas in the hospital I'm literally at my worst. But then it feels extra like people care for you!

    Over the course of this hospital stay I became aware of a symptom that would cause me a great deal of trouble, double vision. I'll cover that in my next blog post, but I couldn't wrap up my time at the hospital without mentioning it.

Probably the biggest positive memory I have of my hospital stay, was my amazing husband's face. He would look at me with this twinkle in his four to six eyes (double vision, remember) that made it seem like he was falling in love with me all over again. I don't know if it was because I had given him such a scare right after the surgery, or maybe because I was so fully dependent on him, but he made me feel like the most important person in the world. He would just sit or stand next to my bed and hold my hand. Time seemed to have very little meaning, so it may have been seconds or hours, but he would never rush away. Talk about feeling loved! And the funny thing was, I have never looked more physically unappealing in my life! My hair was wiry and frizzy. I had bruises and marks all over my face, including a rather stark, burgundy swoosh under my left eye. I'm certain I didn't smell very good either! But, somehow, I don't think he noticed.

Here's the Thing: When it comes down to life-or-death things get put into perspective. When you go a few days without a bed, it makes you really appreciate one. What can you be thankful for in your life today without it having to be in jeopardy?

The Whole Story:

Part One - The Call That Changes Your Life
Part Two - When "Wait and See" Wouldn't Sound so Bad
Part Three - Reflecting on My (Almost) Presurgery Week
Part Four - Living in the unknown
Part Five - Taking Opportunities as They're Given
Part Six - The Big Event
Part Seven - How Many of you are There?
Part Eight - Beginning the Journey of Recovery
Part Nine - The Unimaginable
Part Ten - I guess that's better?
Part Eleven - A Day in the ICU
Part Twelve - Long Haul ICU
Part Thirteen - Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow
Part Fourteen - A Soft Discharge
Part Fifteen - The End of the Chapter