Yes, that is possibly the most obtuse title I could come up with. And confusing!
What I was basically trying to say is that this is not going to be a one post story.
This is a multiple. One of several posts I will make in the next 24 hours to attempt to tell the story of my 20+ hours in NICU (Neuro-ICU for those playing along at home).
Yes, I know I said I would add more to the previous post, and I will - theres a repetitive theme to that days story which will reappear later.
So lets start from the beginning.
Today is August 7th. It is just past midnight. 3 years ago I was in a hospital room at the University of Virginia Medical Center waiting on my surgery, scheduled for 8am (I think). It is now 17 days post-birthday seizure blowout. In that time I had fallen, threw up, fallen again, went to a hospital where I had an x-ray taken of the space between my chin and my chest.
Pause.
Got on a train, rode 398 miles from NYC to LYH, got in a car, went to WalMart, fell down, went home to my parents, had a haircut, ate chinese, threw up.
Pause.
Went to the Good Doctor, went for a CT, went home, went to UVA, went to admissions, went to my room. Blur.....
And now this moment. The waiting, the watching the clock. It all boiled down to this moment. And I don't remember any of it.
For a moment here the dates will seem skewed. Understand please, I had massive surgery, 6 hours worth. They retracted the right lobe of my brain so they could get at the tumor. Which as we came to find out - was stuck right down the middle. Septum Pellucidum if I recall correctly. It was big, about the size of a bab's fist. And we are not talking newborn either. Combine that with the massive amounts of anesthetics I must have been under, and the dilantin effect - and you have one massive time warp.
They used a Dremel on my head!
Easily one of my favorite tools, and they used it on my head! Gave me whats known in the industry as a "burr hole," or as we commoners call it - a dent.
From what I've been told, it was a high-tech affair. Computers, 3D models, lazer sighting line ups with the lifesavers they had previously stuck to my head.
There was me, on the table. Above me was a MRI image on a screen that aligned with my head. That image was 3D, which enabled them to figure out where they needed to be to eradicate the damned thing.
There was very little drama. Just the Good Surgeons careful manuvering around these tiny filaments that connect the left and right side of the brain, for to sever one could lead to something unwanted. What or how bad I do not know, but not good from what I understand.
There is a breif glimmer of rememberance from the time when I left the OR, when the doctors all crowded around me to stir me back to life. They meant well, they really did - but you don't ask a wiseass like me "Do you know where you are?"
I responded, "I should hope so, you have UVA written on EVERYTHING!"
According to my mother, I was not so lucid when they asked me the year. I was born in 1975, in July. For some reason - I told them it was 1968.
Peace, love and brain surgery I guess.
Anyway - theres a ton more to come. Most of it complete fantasy, all of it real.
At least it seemed to be.
More to come, stay tuned...
No comments:
Post a Comment