My first night and post surgery at the hospital was terrifying to say the very least. Having my vital signs checked every hour on the hour throughout the night left little to no time for sleep. To make matters worse, I was in constant pain and felt a an enormous amount of discomfort due to the restraints of being hooked up to tubes and plugged into an intravenous.
I’ve found the doctors and nurses here to be very patient and understanding. Their heartfelt dedication to making the kids here as comfortable as possible can not be overlooked. Although I’m just another scared kid in here. I feel that just about everything has been explained to me in a way I can understand without sounding the least bit condescending. Something I greatly appreciate. Especially considering how scary this has all been.
My second day here had a specialist they flew in from Canada (I feel so important.) perform what he described as “Plumbing on the brain.” Being that the tumor is so large and cannot be removed. They instead inserted a shunt, which would be best described as a giant straw that sucks the juices from the tumor and flushes them through and out of my abdominal cavity. (Swoosh!) They only shaved one side of my head for the operation and though my grandmother suggested a comb over. My mother insisted that the other side be cut or shaved. I look like a fucking bowling ball now.
After some recovery time, I had my intravenous taken out which allowed me to explore the floor, it’s unit and some of the unique characters I’ll be spending my time here with. More about them later, as they each deserve further, detail and description. The food here, as imagined, is awful. If you came here healthy and ate the food. You’d most likely leave on a stretcher. The meals are scheduled and depending on what you’re here for. Are planned and chosen for you. Due to the fact that a brain tumor doesn’t call for any strict diet. I tend to choose the hamburgers that closely resemble and taste like hockey pucks. (Not that I’ve made it a habit to feast on hockey pucks in the past.) Luckily, whenever someone plans to visit and asks if I need anything. I answer convincingly with “Kentucky Fried Chicken, McDonalds” or any other fast food franchise within blocks of the hospital. Whatever medication they’re giving me is making me very hungry.
(Stay tuned for parts IV and V) Coming Soon.