Note: I apologize for the wait. I am having trouble remembering some key details. Because of that, some of this may not have actually happened this day.
I woke up in the morning to the sound of my alarm clock. I jumped in the shower, dried my hair, and went upstairs with a bag full of things to do once I was out of surgery. ha ha. I had music, my awana book to study for Bible quizzing, a hand held sudoku game, a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a change of clothes. They said I would only have to stay one night if everything went okay. Of course, I didn't know at the time that I wouldn't be better instantly and all the pain I'd be in afterward. I didn't care. I was just glad to be moving on. I also temporarily forgot that people with any sort of brain trauma sleep a lot. I was having brain surgery. You would've thought I would've been more prepared. But how could I be? Everything had happened in 1.5 days. That's not enough time to read up on things and be aware of the situation.
Like any operation, I couldn't eat anything. I believe I was scheduled for 2pm. That was a long time for me to go without food back then. (that may be hard for those of you who recently met me to believe, since I go without breakfast every day, and some days without lunch.) So while everyone was munching away, I sat on the couch and tried to calm my mind and understand what was going to happen to me in a few short hours.
In my opinion, I can remember looking like a mess. My hair looked like a fluffed mop, and whatever I was wearing was wrinkled. But I didn't care. I was ready to go.
My family gathered around and prayed for me. I was overcome with peace. I wasn't worried or anxious. But then again, I didn't know what to expect either.
Dad and Mom got in the car and I crawled into the back seat. I don't remember the ride there. I could have been asleep. I could have been praying. I just can't remember.
When we got to Pittsburgh, we had to find a place to park. Since this was an inpatient procedure, we were able to park in the hospital's parking garage. Dad eventually found a spot and he squeezed the car in. We then headed to the fifth floor for all the pre-op work. We signed in and they gave me a wrist band.
I don't remember what order the next events came in, so I'm just going to type as I remember.
We met with the anesthesiologist who was going to be "taking care of me." First thing he asked was my birth date to see if it matched my wrist band. He asked me what seemed like 100 questions that had nothing to do with my condition and everything to do with my personal life. Things like "Do you have your own room?" and "Do you have a boyfriend?" (yes, and no...in case you were wondering.) There were many other questions as well that I fail to see how it connects to that day, or any day really. "Do you wear perfume? Are you wearing makeup? Do you have any piercings beside your ears?" blah blah blah. And I was told they go over these questions with every child there from age 0-18. Seriously??? Gee whiz. He also asked me what flavor I wanted the anesthesia to be. He said strawberry, cherry or grape. I hate strawberries, and I wasn't feeling very grape like. So cherry it was.
Then I was told to put on a hospital gown. I despise those things. They are pure evil. But I obeyed.
So then the next room we went to was a waiting area. Then they were going to call me back to be "marked." I had no clue what that meant. :) So when I was called, I went to a room where a guy was sitting with several multi-colored sharpies. He asked me my name, my birthday (checked it with my wristband again) and then he asked me what I was there for. He told me he was going to give me a sharpie tattoo (which it looked like he had already given himself several), and asked what design I wanted. I was confused. Was he joking? Sort of. He checked my chart and said he had to draw an "X" on the right side of my forehead. There I sat with a big black X, looking like something from Frankenstein. Then we went back to the waiting room.
While we were sitting there, a custodian came by to grab the garbage in the room I was in. He must have thought I looked scared because he told me a joke. Then he asked me if I was good at math. I said yes, and he said "Ok, pick a number from 1-10. But don't tell me." So I did. He went on, "Double that number. Now add 10 to that number. Now divide that number by 2. Now subtract the number you started with." I did the calculations in my head, and he said "The number is 5?" I said yes, and he laughed and said "Great! It worked! And I got you to smile too! :)" Even a janitor can make a difference in a child's life.
The next thing I remember, we went to the last room I would be in before being wheeled into the operating room. There were a bunch of hospital beds, and there were little children sleeping in some of them. They all had stitches on some part of their body. I was starting to get a bit concerned. I knew they had to shave my head, but I didn't know if I was going to be completely bald, or if it was just a small section. I kept thinking that if I had to wear a wig, I was never going out of the house again.
There were a few people in blue scrubs in the room, just keeping an eye on the sleeping children. Then I saw Dr. Pollock. He was wearing a white scrub with blood all over it. He walked right by me, took off his coat and went into the next room. Then the nurse called my name and said it was time for me to say goodbye to mom and dad and go back to the operating room.
My heart starts to pound as I get on the hospital bed and they wheel me down through 3 sets of double doors, all with the words "Do not enter" on the outside. They wheeled me into a room where there were about 5 people in blue scrubs. There were tubes and wires coming out the wazoo. And right in the middle was the dreaded operating table. They told me to roll off the bed onto the table and put my head in the cushioned pillow thing. The next thing I know, they put a mask over my face and tell me to keep breathing. I felt my face go numb. One of the assistants said she was going to put an iv in my arm. Whatever right? I knew that part wasn't that bad. Well she missed. And she tried again and missed my vein once again. After about 5 tries, I think she finally got it in. Then all of a sudden, I couldn't breathe. It was like the mask was suffocating me. They had only given me nitrous oxide thus far, and even though my arm was numb and I couldn't talk, I managed to reach up to my face and try to push the mask off. The nurse kind of freaked out. She was like "Oh do you need some oxygen?" YES PLEASE. I can't breathe! So she took it off for a few seconds. She told me to laugh and smile. And I did. And that stuff does something to your brain, let me tell you.
Then it happened. She lowered the mask and everything went black.
...to be continued in part 6
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