Being Scared to Drift Off to Sleep
It was a long and quiet drive in the early hours of the morning. There were barely any words shared. No memories. You could feel the fear in the air.
As we, being myself, my wife, and mother-in-law, crossed the Golden Gate Bridge I was scared that it was the last time that I would get to see the Bay. When we arrived at the hospital we went through the normal check-in procedures except this wasn’t for a routine surgery.
I was checking in for brain surgery. While any surgery brings about a certain amount of fear, the brain surgery shook me to my core. We trusted my neurosurgeon and his team at UCSF. He helped us to feel calmer but we didn’t fully know what to expect.
We all tried to be strong for each other but it was hard.
It has been 6 years ago since we experienced that drive and everything that follows.
I was laying in the hospital bed scared that I would never wake up again. I didn’t tell anyone because I was doing everything in my power to be strong. But, deep inside I was scared that I would widow my wife leaving her with everything that would come with me passing away. Though I had shared this fear with her a few nights prior while I wept in bed, that morning it was amplified and I didn’t want to communicate that to anyone because everyone was already on edge.
While they were prepping me for surgery, my wife went around the corner and, unbeknownst to me, began hyperventilating because she was crying so hard.
There were funny moments that helped to cut through the scariness such as when I asked my neurosurgeon if he would ensure that he shaved my entire head and not just the area that he was operating. In the moment the question made perfect sense to me but everyone thought it was an odd question to ask because obviously his team would.
It took around 12 hours from the time they wheeled me away until I was brought into the neuro-ICU room where Laura and her parents were finally able to see me.
When I finally came to I was hooked up to so many monitors, several more than I was connected to after my shoulder surgeries. The humorous thing was that in this neuro-ICU room with probably millions of dollars of equipment, they had a very old TV hanging from the wall.
Taken minutes after being brought to after my brain surgery. Thumbs up - I made it through successfully.
Immediately, I asked Laura to share a photo of me so that everyone knew I was out of surgery. She didn’t think I should share such a raw photo but I knew that it was important to communicate with everyone that I was okay.
What I wouldn’t come to find out for some time after that was that there were hundreds of people that had formed a virtual waiting room. People were waking up in the middle of the night to see if there were any updates while others reached out in any way possible.
That first 24 hours post-surgery were really hard.
My heart rate became irregular which meant being hooked up to even more monitors while the room filled with nurses and other medical staff. I threw up several times over that period and had to be given medication to help calm my system down.
Laura wasn't able to stay with me overnight so I didn't have anyone there.
It was scary and rough.
Another humorous story came that next morning when the staff came by to ask me what I wanted for breakfast. As anyone who has stayed in a hospital for any amount of time knows, the food is horrible. Now, I could’ve asked my family to get me anything I wanted and they would have in an instant but what did I ask for: hospital pancakes.
Yep, you read that correctly.
They were bland and tasted like crap because I didn’t even put anything on them like butter or syrup. The only reasoning I can think of for wanting pancakes was that it was something soft and wasn’t hard to chew since I had stitches and large staples across the surgical wound which stretched my entire head, ear to ear.
From that day forward September 11th will always have a dual meaning for me. Obviously, the first being the worst terrorist attack ever on U.S. soil. The second being my brain surgery.
Initially, I viewed this as a negative but as time went on that evolved to seeing my brain surgery as a positive.
Prior to my seizure I didn’t realize that I had a brain tumor and don’t know how long it had been developing. Was it weeks, months, or a year? I’ll never know but my surgery helped to fix that.
The entire experience brought me closer to family in ways that are hard for anyone that hasn’t been through a similar experience to fully understand.
It provided me with the ability to help others through my experience.
I didn’t truly realize how many people cared about me. Every year, including today, I read the hundreds and hundreds of well wishes that people sent that day.
From that first night of my seizures we have always appreciated all of the support. It is something that words will never be able to properly express.