I don’t think I need to remind anyone how crazy it is in the world at this moment with CoVid. Having to be dropped off at a curb to check myself in for brain surgery without someone with me was hard. It was hard knowing my parents couldn’t sit in the hospital waiting room and wait until I was done. I cried checking in, cried walking the halls, cried getting gowned… and cried every time someone said it would be just fine. From the moment I walking into Swedish hospital all the nurses, doctors, surgeons and techs were absolutely fantastic. Although I was still scared, they were just incredibly fantastic and supportive.
Something I have always known is that I have stubborn veins and arteries. It is not easy to get an IV placed. My sweet little check in nurse placed one on the first try but you can see the reaction in that location. The plan was to just start another IV after I was under anesthesia. Lots of people came and asked questions the two hours I was in prep. Same thing over and over again. The date, location, where I was, what I was doing and finally a nurse who shares my name said it was time. She asked about what I did for a living and where I worked. Talk about a small world when she told be her mother worked for Aegis Living at the home office. I knew her mother and it really immediately calmed me down as if I was with a weird family member. We finally made it to the OR and about 15 people were all moving and running around. We started talking about music and what I would like to fall asleep with. I commented no rap or heavy metal and ended up with the song I listen to make me happy. It is called “Music, Music, Music” by Teresa Brewer. It is an oldie but just lifts my spirit. I heard maybe 15 seconds of the song and then remember waking up to someone telling me I did great and it was time for a CT Scan. I was incredibly loopy but I remember being disappointed I didn’t get to hear my song. After the CT scan I was taken to my room and the nurse told me she just got done talking to my mom.
I asked if I could have my phone and the nurse said it would be about 5 hours before they could bring it AND I could only dial numbers that were local. I tried calling my grandma to talk to my aunt and let my parents know I couldn’t call. My grandma couldn’t hear me with my sore throat from the breathing tube. I tried calling my boss to have her tell my mother, but the nurse came in so I hung up. I just wanted to sleep and cry. I needed help to turn in bed and even pour myself ice and water. I kept dropping the ice down my hospital gown because I couldn’t aim or lift the spoon. So while I waited for hours to be able to communicate with family I slept and took lots of naps. I counted the number of cotton balls from IV pokes and wondered in the 3 seconds I felt I had slept how they shaved my head, inserted a catheter, placed new IV lines, braided my hair in six ridiculous looking braids and opened my head. I ordered dinner, grilled cheese and chicken noodle soup. It turned to paste in my mouth and I could not eat. It made me so nauseated. Around 7pm I got my phone back but visiting hours were over. And I was too emotional to even FaceTime my family. Around 7:15 they got me up for a walk and then back to bed I went where I could stomach fresh fruit, meds and actually could start turning myself in bed. I mean it took about 15 minutes but I did it. Every three hours throughout the night they woke me up to make sure I was okay. At one point my monitors were going crazy and I dropped my call button and had no way of getting a hold of them or finding the call light. I finally called the operator and just needed oxygen put back on. The past couple nights I keep checking my O2 stats as they are ranging between 88-91% while I sleep. That is all I can really remember from day one.
Laura Suzanne 