May 12

Here begins your big ol' wall of words....on this day, 10 years ago, I was admitted into a hospital in central Austin to begin the process of removing a large brain tumor from my cranium, which my doctor estimated, had been slowly growing over the course of the previous decade.  On this particular morning, I was scheduled for an "arterial occlusion" with a neuroradiologist, in the hopes of blocking blood flow to the tumor before those vessels were cut the following day to remove it.

I want to say that I was terrified, or beside myself with nerves, but as I am sitting here typing and trying to remember this day, 10 years ago, I am just getting flashes of memories with very little terror involved.  I know that I must have kissed my baby goodbye that morning, especially considering that it would be the last time I would see her for several days at the very least; I know that my husband and I must have talked about something in the time it took to drive from our home to the hospital; I know we must have checked in super early and filed paperwork with the hospital administration (I do actually remember sitting in the waiting room), but beyond that, the preparations to get me to this moment, 10 years ago, are pretty vague.

Fast forwarding just a little - when I did get checked in, gowned up and placed into the pre-op room, a nurse came in to start an IV, through which they would, as she explained, administer fluids while I was under anesthesia.  I told her that I was not supposed to be under general anesthesia, only twilight sleep so that I could be awake during the procedure.  She calmly told me that the arteriogram that I was about to undergo was typically performed under general anesthesia and I calmly told her that I had discussed all of this with both my neurosurgeon and the neuroradiologist.  She politely told me I was mistaken, but that she would check with the doctor, who happened to come into the room at that point in the conversation.  He backed me up, told her to switch the IV's and suddenly, we were ready to go.

I mentioned in the last post that the side effects (stroke, embolism, death) of this occlusion procedure scared me more than the idea of the brain surgery for some reason, though the risks were about the same.  None of the doctors was really sure what they would find once they started this whole process, so they prepared me and my family for the worst.  I remember lying on the table in the radiology suite, feeling lucid but loopy, trying not to flinch as a male nurse located my femoral artery near my hip and began to snake a catheter up my body and ultimately into my brain.  (That part didn't hurt.)  I watched as the radiologist injected a dye into the catheter, once they found the correct placement, and I watched the dye spread through the blood vessels in my brain, curving around, but not connecting to the tumor.  I remember the relief that I felt when the doctor said, "I don't think we really have anything to take care of in here.  There doesn't look to be much blood flow to the tumor itself.  I think we can skip the occlusion."  He wished me luck on my surgery the following day, said goodbye and left me with the nurse, who removed the catheter carefully and then held extreme pressure on my hip so that I would not bleed out from this major artery.  (This part hurt - I think I was bruised for weeks afterwards.)

So, instead of going to the ICU immediately following the arterial occlusion, as was the original plan, I was admitted to the neuro ward, where I had the pleasure of lying flat on my back for 6 hours before I was even allowed to sit up, let alone get up and walk.  My husband spoon fed me dinner - I am pretty sure it was the hospital's version of enchiladas - and I tried to watch TV at a weird angle.  I'm sure I napped and I know I repeatedly thanked God that the doctor had not been forced to inject glue into my brain.  I knew the next day would bring a different set of challenges, but I do remember feeling very much at peace, especially now that the whole process had begun.  I knew that I didn't have a choice about having the tumor removed and I knew that I was in excellent hands.  I still had my wits about me - hence my ability to advocate for myself as a mistake, however small, was in the process of being made - and I had a very strong feeling of faith, love and support about me.  I wasn't sure how, but I knew everything was going to be OK. 

Tomorrow: Ever been curious about what it feels like to have brain surgery?  It's weird, but not as bad as you think.....stay tuned.....