Continuation of previous post ...
On August 30th we arrived at the Ottawa Civic Hospital at the crack of dawn for a surgery I'm still convinced happened to someone else. I never anticipated hearing the word "craniotomy" in direct association with my name. I'm a Mom to a 4 year old! How on earth did I have time to grow a 4 cm tumor in my head, let alone a second smaller one?
I've been told this amazing surgeon I was referred to is one of the best ... if not THE best ... brain surgeon in Canada. And, on top of it all, he's personable, treats his patients AND his staff with respect, and polishes off his all-round self with a pretty great sense of humour. Seriously. Sounds pretty unreal. And if I hadn't met him myself, I wouldn't believe he existed. I hope I never have to, but I would highly recommend this fabulous guy anytime!
Despite what I thought, I didn't have to shave my entire head. The doc only shaved a strip over the top of my head from ear to ear. Thus began a 12 hour surgery I wish I knew less about. I'll just say it involved words like removal, peel, titanium plates, path lab and suction. 'Nuff said, right? Right. Might I just add that the OCH has some of the kindest employees; from nurses to doctors and therapists, let alone my surgeon's assistant whom I think helps to elevate him to angelic status. I was treated so incredibly well, with respect and kindness, I almost didn't beg to go home after a few days. Almost. Of course, when I did ask, the doc snickered at me and strolled away shaking his head. And thankfully so. I was in no way ready to venture out on my own!
Apparently, I didn't know the extent of my post-surgery "wounds". Or I was, at the very least, in denial of the reason I couldn't see through eyes that were completely swollen shut, bruises from fingertip to arm pit, and a headache that rivalled a jack-hammer pounding on my head. That is, until I accidentally looked in the mirror while washing my hands in the bathroom one day approximately a week after surgery.
They should warn you or black out any reflective glass in the rooms of patients after such an operation! The instant I saw myself, the air left the room and I started to cry. I had absolutely no idea who was looking back at me in the glass. That person had black, puffy eyes; bruises from cheek bone to chest; and the biggest scar across her head that anyone could imagine unless they were watching a slasher flick. I also wasn't prepared for the memory loss, the dizziness, the struggle for words and the emotions that flowed so easily down my cheeks. I didn't remember the surgery, or much after it, how could I be so bruised and broken from something which, in my mind and memory, didn't exist?
After 10 days in-hospital (and many requests), I was finally allowed to head home. This under the premise that I not be allowed to drive, lift anything over 10 lbs., walk without a walker (until I was steady on my feet), and essentially not be alone until my follow-up with the surgeon at the end of October.
So, while trying to continue on with my life and trying not to hide away, my family and I have dealt with weeks of people staring at my bruises and scars with sympathy, and then at Andrew with contempt. We actually had one woman ask me at a restaurant during a washroom break on our way home from the hospital (while picking up her jaw from the floor and glaring at Andrew) if I was okay. I find this so frustrating! Andrew is such a kind-hearted man and anyone who knows him knows what these people were thinking is beyond the realm of possibility when it comes to him! But, as he would, he doesn't let it get to him. He just takes it in stride and lets them think what they think. One of the reasons I love him even more.
More about those reasons to come ...
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