Part 3

I woke up on the morning of the 28th extremely early. I wasn't really sure why, because I didn't really sleep all that well. Nothing I did could put my back to sleep though, so I just resorted to games on my phone again, since I didn't think any of my friends would be up at the time. I got interrupted by the nurse for my morning meds, then got interrupted shortly after by another member of the neurosurgery team. I was told the surgery was going to happen in the afternoon. I thanked him, but I confess I wasn't 100% sure what to expect, since I was there on the 'by-case basis'. I focused on my games for a little longer, but decided to put my cell aside and just lay down after a while. At one point, I did drift off, but it wasn't for too long. Thankfully, though, it was long enough that I felt alert and a bit more coherent, so I went back to playing on my phone and idly chatting with whatever friends and family I could reach at the time.

It was a little after noon when my nurse showed up, and I was informed that the pre-op team was on their way to my room. Finally. Things were moving forward... Or so I thought. Despite being told this, pre-op didn't actually arrive until 2:30. As you can probably guess by now, I was a ball of nerves, having begun thinking something was wrong. I was relieved to actually hear someone saying 'we're here to take you for your surgery'. As much as I've been dreading the whole situation, to finally know that things were finally going to get some resolution I was happy, even amongst my anxiousness. Saying goodbye to the friends and family I was talking to at the time, I let them wheel me out to the pre-op room.

I was asked a bunch of different questions, and asked several of my own regarding what the plan was. They were going to go in and remove the old shunt on the right side of my head as well as the tubing that was there that was obviously no longer useful. I'd have an incision in my belly as well, where the tubing would be fed through and connected to where in needed to be, A couple times they drew on certain spots so the neurosurgeon could get a good idea of where he'd need to make the incisions and whatnot.

Around 45 minutes or so of all this going on and I was eventually wheeled out of the pre-op area and toward the OR. It was at this time I was asked to leave Gideon in the room, but I told the nurse that I could not comply, as he was the only thing that was keeping me from going into a full-blown panic attack. I went so far as to call him my emotional-support buddy. To my surprise, the nurse IMMEDIATELY told me it was absolutely fine to take him into the OR with me, and that she wouldn't take him from me. Relieved, I was wheeled into the OR, hugging Gideon against me, trying my best to stay as calm as I could.

Cue the usual anesthesia-induced 'I don't know what happened next' speech.

When I awoke, I found myself in the room I'd been in before I had been wheeled into the OR, and the same nurse that I had last seen was there as well. Now, I don't know how long I'd been unconscious exactly, but when I woke up I was surprisingly pretty coherent. I had done it. I'd gotten through the surgery, and everything was fine. One of the first things I noticed was that someone had dressed Gideon up in a hospital cap, gown, mask and hospital shoes. Now, I have to admit, I found the gesture VERY touching and sweet, but I removed them a short time after. I wasn't upset in any way shape or form that they'd done it, but it was more that I wanted to hold Gideon, and since the hospital itself had been a source of anxiety for me through this entire ordeal, I didn't want the memory linked to Gideon. The nurse said she understood, but I did ask her to thank whoever it was that had done it.

After that, a couple phone calls were made. One to Henry, and one to my birth mom, whom I'd been keeping advised of everything that had been going on. Both were pleased to hear I was okay and that the surgery was a success. Even though I had talked to them both just before I left for pre-op, it was a relief to hear their voices again too.

Now, the next event I want to talk about could have been in part discussed during a couple other points in the past journals, however, I felt it best to just talk about the entire subject here in this one, since this is where the most humorous part of said event happened, though things don't start off all that funny.

When I was in Mason Hospital, I had to get an IV put in my arm. For me, IV's can be somewhat of a tricky situation. I can't have IVs put in the back of my hand, because they trigger severe panic attacks. I also can't have them put in the fold of my arm (my elbow area), because, with the fact I move around a lot in my sleep and constantly readjust my arms, anyone that puts them there just end up forced to put in a new IV the following day because the IV doesn't stay in. Another issue I have is the problem that, more often than not, doctors can never find good veins in my left arm for good blood draws/IVs. My left arm also tends to not read my blood pressure as accurately as my right arm. With all this in mind, I was very lucky that the nurse that did my IV managed to find a spot in the middle of the back of my forearm that she could use. I was pretty happy because it meant the IV was in a place that would not hinder my normal sleeping position or habits. The IV lasted me a couple days, but when it reached the day the surgery was supposed to occur the first time, I noticed the IV site felt like it was burning a bit, and it also felt like it was swollen. I wasn't sure if I was imagining the swelling or not, but the burning sensation bothered me enough that I had a nurse come and check on it. When she came, I asked her if she thought my arm looked swollen. She said that, yes, it did. The IV had come undone so the IV fluid was getting under my skin, causing both the swelling and the burning. That meant, unfortunately, she had to pull it out. I was not happy.

Were it not for the IV fluid getting under my skin and making it swell, she could have at least used that arm again, but, sadly, because of what happened, she had no choice but to use my left arm. I informed her of the same things I had informed the nurse in Mason Clinic of, telling her she was likely going to have trouble finding a vein in my left arm. It took some searching, but by an odd stroke of dumb luck, there was a vein in my left arm in almost the same exact spot that the first nurse had found in my right arm. She had to get a smaller needle, and a different nurse ended up being the one to actually do it, but it was in, and my day was able to continue.

I asked if it would be possible for me to take a shower later on in the day, since I wasn't having surgery and felt I was beginning to smell unpleasant. I was told I could, but that I'd need to wait until much later in the night to do so. This is because, in the neurosurgery ward, there is only one bathroom (or at least only one in the immediate vicinity/only one that has a shower) so I'd need to wait until a majority of the patients were asleep. Since I was wide awake anyway, I agreed and just kept myself busy. I got my shower as planned, which involve having my arm getting wrapped up so the IV wouldn't sustain any damage. Unfortunately, it seemed luck was not on my side today, as, for the second time, the I discovered the IV had come out of the vein. Thankfully no swelling this time, since I wasn't connected to any IV fluids, but nevertheless, it looked like I'd need to get poked again. The nurse didn't seem to think it was necessary and had me come sit down back in the bed. She took my arm and very slowly started trying to work the IV back into place. Once she was done, she tested it by flushing the IV and, surprisingly, she appeared to have salvaged it. She cleaned up the extra trash nearby then and left the room... Only to have to return five minutes later because now, much like with the first IV, this one was now burning. She came back and tested it again and confirmed that this time it had actually come dislodged from the vein and was now no longer usable. She now had to take it out and start a new one.

I reminded her of the places I could not take IVs and told her that I would take literally anywhere else if she could avoid those spots. It took her some time, but she found another good vein, again on my left arm, a few inches above my elbow. Basically, the IV would be up against the the back of my arm, pretty much out of sight unless I turned it. That spot worked surprisingly well. Not only did it avoid my problem spots, but no other part of me would even come in contact with the IV with it there unless I made a conscious and deliberate effort to mess with it. This IV remained until it finally got pulled out the day I was discharged.

Now I'll get into why I explained all of that. With those IV issues, I made it a point to inform anyone that needed to give me an IV any place that I could not handle getting one. This also was told to the anesthesiologist prior to my surgery. Because i was told that, even if I already have an IV in, there are times where a second IV is sometimes needed anyway, so I went through the whole spiel again. He took note of what I told him and he told me I wouldn't need to worry and that, if an IV was needed, he would avoid the spots I asked him to avoid. So, the surgery happened, as I said, and I talked to Henry and my mom. After that, I turned my attention to the nurse and I asked her:

"I noticed I still only have the one IV. Did he not need a second one after all?"

"Oh, he did."

"Oh! Did he take it out when he finished then?"

"No, you still have it."

"I do? Where is it?"

"In your foot."

I swear to god, this is the truth. I didn't even realize there was an IV there until the moment she told me that. Throughout talking with her when I first got back, talking with Henry and talking with my mom, not once did I ever even realize I had a second IV, let alone realize it was in my foot. The moment she told me, and I lifted the blanket and saw it, I remember having this dumbstruck look on my face. It was almost as if the IV didn't exist until after she told me it was there. Once she had, I was aware of it pretty much constantly until it was taken out a short time later, since it was no longer needed. This is the first time I ever call an incident where I'd had an IV in me that I wasn't even aware I had.

Anyway, with that bit of weirdness out of the way, I was taken to recovery for a little while, then I was taken to my room. For more than a week, I dealt with daily migraines, and to finally be rid of them again was a strange feeling. Happy, yes, but strange. I was sadly, not completely pain-free however. While I was not having migraines anymore, with the incision site on my belly came the unfortunate severe unpleasantness of a stinging pain if i coughed, hiccuped, sneezed, cleared my throat or tried to move too fast. This is something that I have to suffer through whenever I have one of these surgeries and it hurts like hell, but at least the pain slowly fades as each day passes.

Because of this pain though, I needed some meds for it almost immediately after being settled in my room again. Though I was given the same meds as before, Tramadol, the effectiveness wasn't as good with this particular pain, and this led to me also needing to ask for some anti-anxiety meds because, after a bad coughing fit, I went into a major anxiety attack. Several hours later, once I was much calmer, I did something that I feel both silly and stupid for at the same time.

As I had mentioned above, I was coherent pretty quickly after my surgery. Well, at one point later that day, I needed to go to the bathroom. Not even thinking about the fact I had literally just gotten out of surgery only a few hours prior to that, out of instinct I did what I had done pretty much every time I needed the bathroom before that point. I put my socks and mask on, grabbed my IV pole and headed out of my little area toward the hall to the bathroom. You read correctly. Fresh out of surgery, I was walking to the bathroom without assistance. I had been about a third of the way there when a nurse saw me.

"You're not supposed to be walking on your own right now."

"I was doing it before."

"You just had surgery though. Someone needs to walk with you to make sure you don't fall."

"Oh! Right!"

She walked me back to my bed at that point and got me a urinal to use, as I had not yet been given one. What's weird though, was even the nurse that had spotted me had to admit she noticed I wasn't wobbly on my feet at all, nor did I sound even the slightest bit incoherent. I was 100% alert and aware. She wasn't mad or even upset. I laughed a bit, commenting about having done it just out of instinct, and saying that I did it because I literally hadn't even thought about the fact I'd just come out of surgery only hours before that. I had my dinner later that evening before falling back into the previous pattern of gaming and chatting before taking my meds and falling asleep.

Part 5