Before we get into the next part of this story, I'd like to tell you a little bit about the social side of my life up to this point. As I said before, I had a pretty tight group of friends. We became friends at the start of grade 10. For the purposes of the story, I'm not going to mention their actual names. I don't need anyone I used to know getting mad at me.
By the time spring break rolled around, my headache was about a ten out of ten on the pain scale (or at least what my pain scale used to be). This meant I spent a lot of time at home in too much pain to go to school. When I was there, my friends were pretty supportive. One would offer me random pills out of his pill collection, of course in exchange for my own Tylenol 3's (I never took that offer), and another told me she was going to pitch a tent in my hospital room and would camp there for the four days I was supposed to be admitted. I felt pretty good about them being there for me. Before I went in for my surgery, I decided a bunch of my friends should go to Tony Roma's for a supper party kind of thing. I made invitations, and titled it The Last Supper (something no one else seemed to find funny, but personally I still find hilarious). Everyone came from that group of friends and another group of friends I had, and it all went great. The day before the surgery, I promised to let everyone know as soon as possible and told them that if they asked at the front desk, they would tell them what room I was in. I also told them I'd check my cell often while I was in there. They all promised I'd talk to them soon.
On the day of the surgery, Mom, Dad, Kyle and I walked into the Children's hospital and went to the second floor: Day Surgery. They asked if I'd been sick in the last two weeks, and Mom quickly said 'Nope!' which was a flat out lie. I'd had a cold which had just finished the day before. The four of us sat down among the children and their families, and we started playing Cribbage. One thing about crib, not to toot my own horn, but I'm pretty much the best person at it ever. Just kidding. I'm pretty good. Kyle hasn't played it a ton, so we had to teach him how to do it. Then we played team crib.
After an hour or two, they finally called me to get changed, once again, into the awesome hospital outfit that ties at the back. We then sat down in the closer waiting area and they asked the usual questions. They told me I was getting put under by gas, which I'd heard isn't as quick (it isn't, but it's a hell of a lot more fun). Then we played more crib. My family and I are extremely close, and this was one of those times that really stands out in my mind when I think of how awesome they are. When it comes down to the hard parts of my life, my family is always going to be there for me.
Finally it was time for me to go in. I said my goodbyes, assured them I was going to be okay, and walked into the operation room with a big brave smile on my face. I climbed up on the bed, and the nurse who's sole purpose at the start is to make sure I don't freak out and run for my life introduced herself to me. I didn't get any IV's or anything at this point, they were going to wait until I was under (something a lot different then how they do things now). They asked me to say my name and birthday, and then strapped the mask on me. The nurse started telling me lame Disney jokes, which I found quite hilarious. Then I started up a conversation with her about how white the room was. And then I told her I was going to take a nap. That's all I remember, officer.
If you're squeamish, you may not want to read this part. While I was unconscious, they drilled a brace around my head to hold it steady, and then flipped me over so I was looking down. They shaved a one inch wide strip up the back of my head about six inches ish long, and then cut from halfway up my neck to halfway up my head. To get to the part that they needed, they had to remove a 2.5 cm x 2.5 cm piece of skull, which is still gone now. They cut through a bunch of muscle and stuff as well. Because the tonsil was so big, they had to shave off part of my first vertebrae to get to it. They then burned the tonsil down to how big they wanted it, and inserted a plastic graft to prevent it from getting bigger. Part of the nausea part of my brain had actually shifted down too, so they had to "tinker" with it to put it back where it was supposed to be. Then they sewed and stapled me back up.
From here it gets a little hazy. I remember bits and pieces of the next few days, but the timeline is a little screwed up in my mind. A lot of this part is off of what I experienced mixed with what I was told from my family.
I'm told I was in ICU for a few days. I don't remember even being there for an hour. I had a window beside my bed apparently, and I was in the corner of the room. Every time I laid on one side for a while, the other side would swell up and I would have to roll over. I threw up extremely often, and wasn't awake for a lot of it. There was a kid one bed over from me who had the same surgery; he was in there for the allotted day and then left. Good for him, and that taught me that I should never judge my health against someone else's. I remember waking up one night and telling the nurse I needed to throw up, and she pretty much hit me in the face with the tray thing while she was looking away and yelling at a different ICU nurse. That's actually the only thing I remember in ICU, the time went by pretty quickly for me because I was unconscious for so much of it. Kyle wasn't allowed to visit me there, I think only one or two people were allowed to come in, and my parents were beside me every second they could be.
Eventually I got moved into the neurosurgery ward. I don't remember the trip over, but Mom does and I guess she was over me like a hawk. This paragraph is from what she told me. I was in this room with a girl, maybe named Sophie. She had Chron's disease or something, and she was termed a "frequent flier," something I was also called shortly after. Mom said that she was pretty sick. Apparently a while after my brain surgery we were in the MRI/CT/Ultrasound part of the hospital and we saw her, and I started crying because she wasn't better yet. Thinking about it now, even though I don't really remember all this, I still get pretty choked up. I hope she's better now, and I hope she managed to beat the terrible cycle we both were in.
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