And here it is, the much anticipated post-surgery bonus story (if it seems familiar, that's because it was posted on this site before I shut it all down and restarted. So, anyone who may have already read this, sorry! This version has been slightly edited though, so...):
A little while ago my mom, sister and I somehow got onto the topic of my craniotomy. I only remember bits and pieces, obviously, but my mom told me something that I find really...weird.
Let me start at the beginning. When I first woke up, I was in intensive care. They brought my mom and sister in to see me, which I don't remember. All I would say was "It hurts" and "I want to roll over" (they had just cut the back of my head open and I was laying on my back!), which I do remember. I also remember getting frustrated, grabbing the bars on the right side of my bed and pulling myself onto my side, which really freaked the nurses out because I had so many monitors attached to me.
Anyway, some doctor (I have no idea who) came in to do a basic neuro test on me (you know, the old touch your nose then touch my finger deal). Apparently I would put my finger somewhere in the vicinity of my nose and then wave it around wildly getting nowhere near his finger (I guess I figured, eh, close enough). Obviously, it freaked my mom out. And the doctor wasn't thrilled either.
So the doc asked what pain killers I was on and found out they gave me some heavy duty stuff that they weren't supposed to give me until after he checked me. False alarm everybody! The girl's not brain damaged! They took me off the meds and he came back a little later to check me again. I'm pretty sure I passed (I assume. No one ever actually told me, now that I think about it...).
And here is where it gets interesting. I don't remember this at all. My mom was there and told me about it later. I am someone who, at the time, had no interest in politics at all. At all. I can't emphasize this enough. If you had asked me at any point prior to my surgery who the vice president of the United States was, I would have said "No clue". But apparently, if you knock me out, do a little surgery, hop me up on pain killers and then ask me the same question? According to my mom I will promptly answer "Dick Cheney" (which was correct at the time, I am well aware it is no longer correct now).
When she told me later I responded with a somewhat garbled "What the--?" (still on pain meds at this point) because I knew I didn't know that.
One other fun memory that I actually do remember was my battle with the blood pressure cuff. I have chronically low blood pressure. So even though I got bumped down to critical care on the first day, I never made it to an ordinary room. I was also on a blood pressure monitor 24/7. Which gets really annoying, really quick. My mom, who they very kindly let stay with me (breaking the rules), had to constantly stop me from ripping the stupid thing off (breaking more rules). So eventually, I, in my drugged up stupor, tried to convince her that I didn't need it, it wouldn't go off anymore, they said it was ok to take off, all mashed into one insane sentence. Then I ripped it off, rolled over, and went back to sleep (rebel!). Two minutes later, the alarm goes off because it tried to take my blood pressure and failed, for obvious reasons. My mom still refuses to let me live that down and I still hate that thing.
Let me just round this all out by saying I was out of the hospital in three days (awesome) but managed to get a horrible sinus infection about a week later (recovering from brain surgery and a sinus infection? SCORE!).
Let me start at the beginning. When I first woke up, I was in intensive care. They brought my mom and sister in to see me, which I don't remember. All I would say was "It hurts" and "I want to roll over" (they had just cut the back of my head open and I was laying on my back!), which I do remember. I also remember getting frustrated, grabbing the bars on the right side of my bed and pulling myself onto my side, which really freaked the nurses out because I had so many monitors attached to me.
Anyway, some doctor (I have no idea who) came in to do a basic neuro test on me (you know, the old touch your nose then touch my finger deal). Apparently I would put my finger somewhere in the vicinity of my nose and then wave it around wildly getting nowhere near his finger (I guess I figured, eh, close enough). Obviously, it freaked my mom out. And the doctor wasn't thrilled either.
So the doc asked what pain killers I was on and found out they gave me some heavy duty stuff that they weren't supposed to give me until after he checked me. False alarm everybody! The girl's not brain damaged! They took me off the meds and he came back a little later to check me again. I'm pretty sure I passed (I assume. No one ever actually told me, now that I think about it...).
And here is where it gets interesting. I don't remember this at all. My mom was there and told me about it later. I am someone who, at the time, had no interest in politics at all. At all. I can't emphasize this enough. If you had asked me at any point prior to my surgery who the vice president of the United States was, I would have said "No clue". But apparently, if you knock me out, do a little surgery, hop me up on pain killers and then ask me the same question? According to my mom I will promptly answer "Dick Cheney" (which was correct at the time, I am well aware it is no longer correct now).
When she told me later I responded with a somewhat garbled "What the--?" (still on pain meds at this point) because I knew I didn't know that.
One other fun memory that I actually do remember was my battle with the blood pressure cuff. I have chronically low blood pressure. So even though I got bumped down to critical care on the first day, I never made it to an ordinary room. I was also on a blood pressure monitor 24/7. Which gets really annoying, really quick. My mom, who they very kindly let stay with me (breaking the rules), had to constantly stop me from ripping the stupid thing off (breaking more rules). So eventually, I, in my drugged up stupor, tried to convince her that I didn't need it, it wouldn't go off anymore, they said it was ok to take off, all mashed into one insane sentence. Then I ripped it off, rolled over, and went back to sleep (rebel!). Two minutes later, the alarm goes off because it tried to take my blood pressure and failed, for obvious reasons. My mom still refuses to let me live that down and I still hate that thing.
Let me just round this all out by saying I was out of the hospital in three days (awesome) but managed to get a horrible sinus infection about a week later (recovering from brain surgery and a sinus infection? SCORE!).
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