BST15: Pleased to meet you, Hope you fix my brain

Have you noticed yet, none of the Tomorrow: BST**: whatevers actually appear as the next days title?

I swear when this is done, Im going to sit down and figure out the theme behind the titles.

Anyway, 15 days since my birthday. 15 days since I slammed my head into the change machine at Trump Taj Mahal. 15 days since the seizure-o-matic drive on my brain finally kicked over. And what am I doing?

Sitting in a hospital, being interviewed. Today was Monday, which meant all the staff and sundry were present and accounted for. Today was going to be a long day.

Now the poor nurses had to check my vitals every 2 hours or so through the night, so as much as I wanted to be asleep, I did not want them to have to wake me up - or worry about waking me up. I was getting real good at greeting them as they came through the door.

A quick word about my room. It was big, had a big single square window with the blinds between the panes. Had a bathroom to rival the ones in a penthouse suite. It also was directly attached to a nurses station. Not one that was monitored 24/7, but one of the satilite ones - where a nurse could gather more supplies as he/she needed.

I think it was up on the 6th floor. Wonderful view (for the 2 minutes I remember seeing it before I was confined to the bed.) The nursing staff could not have been more wonderful. If you know UVA Medical Center, you know the floors are laid out in triangles, precisely to confuse patients. I, to this day - could not tell you what room I was in if I was staring right at it. (and I think I was, during the Gamma Knife episode)

But anyway, there were two doors to my room. One into the nurses station, and a 2nd into my room. The doors had matching big square windows - but with no blinds. Not a big deal normally, as they dimmed the lights on the floor at the appropriate time. Except - the nurses station light was never turned off. It had no dimmer. Just that big square glass window straight into my room.

Not sleeping was very easy, especially when you would see a shadow or hear a noise in the hallway at night. I had no clock I could see easily when the lights were off in the room, I had no radio to lull me to sleep. I never thought of it till I was home allready.

So, as I would soon discover, like clockwork - the Vampire Squad came in at 5:00am to steal my blood. Then it was a wait, at 6am (or there abouts) the nurse came in to check my vitals and administer my meds. At 7:30ish am, it was time for breakfast. And at 8am, my parents were back in right on time to spend the day again. I give them much credit - they spent more time sitting there than I would want to.

Well, being the busy kind of day it was shaping up to be, I was totally in my right mind. Obviously.

Perfect time to send in the interviewers. First was Social Services, asking about my job and such. Somehow in my mangled description of my mangled job at Home Depot, I gave them the impression that I was a security guard. I believe I also said something about moving a 550lb cast iron tub by myself. Which actually was true. So on my SS forms I was classified as a Security Guard.

Then in came the man of my dreams. Tall, serious looking - but with a smile on his face a mile wide. A calm, easy going manner - but an intensity for getting things done right. Meet Dr. Shaffrey. My Neurosurgeon. The man inspires confidence, and heaven forbid anything similar happen to your loved ones, this is the man you want.

Well he gave my parents the run down, because lord knows I was barely keeping up counting my fingers. After he left, my mother went and called her cousin who is a bigshot nurse. Sure enough, after 2 seconds of checking around at her hospital, Shaffery was the MAN.

Next up on my hidden agenda, the Neuropsychologist. Why? Baseline testing of my brain functions and whatnot. Sure, I could make a ton of jokes here - but why bother. Several months after getting out of the hospital, on the occasion of one of my follow up MRI's, I had another run of neuro-functional/cognitive testing. Just an update kind of thing. The Doctor who ran me through the gauntlet then was the same one who put me through my paces before the surgery. Dr. Janie Irons. And I, feeling the fool - had no idea. Dr. Irons was the associate of the big muckety-muck Neuropsychologist, Dr. Farace. Both women have my undying gratitude for what they did for me. Dr. Farace would have done the test herself, but was tied up with another patient.

For some reason, in my head - I still envision the testing as follows: I was taken out of my room (not true) and brought to this big old library (not true). In this library I was seated in a window, on one of those nice window seats - where I could look out(not true). Dr. Irons sat with me on the windowseat (not true) and asked me questions, had me do puzzles, and talked with me about various things(true). The only thing I clearly remember is having a discussion about Star Trek (maybe true). Then when it was all over, I was back in my bed.

So theres the delusional "I HAVE NO BRAIN" moment for today.

I will have further updates later in the day.