Since my diagnosis in 2014, I’ve had some type of brain surgery…every… single… year with the exception of 2018. So, in 2019 just to make up for it, I guess, I had to get 2 “surgery notches” under my belt!
I’m now one week out from my 6th brain surgery. It was something termed a “Burrhole Craniotomy”. In real-people speak, I basically had a GPS-guided needle inserted into my skull to drain fluid from a lesion/cyst that sat in my brain for years caused by the insane amount of radiation I received between 2014 (initial diagnosis) and 2015 (recurrence). When I met with my neurosurgeon’s N.P. before he came in to discuss our options, I basically ticked-off every box for issues related to fluid in my brain. Yes, including being “ticked off” at everyone and everything. Yet, she asked politely, “Are you feeling more irritable?”. My husband had a good laugh at that one. We both answered with an emphatic “YES!”
Prior to the surgery, I became extremely angry and depressed. I never really had those feelings for such an extensive period without them being caused by some horrid med… ahem, Keppra, Dexamethasone. Nope. This time it was all me. Facing a 6th brain surgery, admittedly, gives me some leeway to feel so utterly miserable. I am only human after all.
I know full-well going to that “dark place” isn’t just damaging to my mental health, it makes me physically weak. I need to go into surgery healthy in all aspects-physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, etc. Yet, I couldn’t pull myself out of the darkness.
The one thing I was 100% confident in was my neurosurgeon. If I ever turn this into a book, I will absolutely name him. However, for now we will remain anonymous. I know for sure he truly lives and breathes by the Hippocratic Oath, most especially
- the duty to “do the least harm”; and,
- “there is art to medicine as well as science, and that warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon’s knife or the chemist’s drug.“
Fortunately, I’ve made wonderful connections within the brain cancer community since my diagnosis. I have no doubt some of those connections are why I’m still here. They’ve led me into the exam rooms of some of the most impressive physicians in this country. My neurosurgeon is one of those people.
So, despite all my neurological issues, including losing total use of my left hand, falling on the daily, constantly losing my memory or at least feeling such brain fog I literally forgot the year, I knew my doc would get me through this. And he did.
Without getting into too much detail, I had consulted with another surgeon first. Wait, I actually wrote a whole post about that experience. Oh well… “blame brain cancer brain”Totally off topic – Can we stop saying, “oops! Must be Mommy brain!”? No, like I’m literally missing a part of my brain that was infected with cancer – twice. Then, it got lots and lots of radiation beamed into it. We just forget shit! Mommies, don’t hate me, please.)
So, that other surgeon had proposed a much more invasive surgery. I was incredibly uncomfortable with his plan. I was very open that I was going for another consult at another hospital. The hospitals in NYC seem to compete with one another like spoiled school girls. I’m not too too concerned with that B.S. I’m trusting my brain with whoever is going to stick by that whole “least harm” idea.
My surgeon utilized the least invasive means possible, I only spent one night in the hospital. My left hand is working again. I’m walking better. The brain fog is still around, but I’ve been on Percocet the last few days. I’m not quite so “irritable “. My husband is very happy about that! I’ve got another surgery notch under my belt. Thankfully, I’m finding myself again too.
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