The Surgery, Part Two.

Ok, folks, I'm back. So let's take a look at The Surgery, Part Two - Recovery and The Intensive Care Unit.

I have very little recollection of what happened in the recovery room. I remember opening my eyes once and being asked questions, but that's the majority of my memory there. Next thing I knew, I was being wheeled up to the third floor intensive care unit. I have a vague memory of seeing a group of doctors and hearing those transporting me laughing about interrupting rounds.

When I arrived in my room in the ICU, I very much wanted to try to gather myself. My bed was placed in the middle of the room, which was quite spacious. I anxiously awaited the arrival of my mom and Daniel, hoping that familiar faces would get me through and get me going.

Still rather drowsy, I was thrilled to see them both walk through my door. They shared the good news...that the surgery was a success and that it took about an hour less than they had anticipated. After spending some time with them, my mom went home to rest and take care of Lilly, but promised to come back.

I attempted to eat a popsicle, but hardly made it through before returning it to the a cup and nodding off again. Morphine and tylenol, and eventually zofran and oxycodone, became good friends to me while in the ICU.

Every hour, I had some neuro testing done. Stick out your tongue, smile, squeeze my fingers, hold up the pizza boxes, lift both legs, where are you, why are you here...my nurse eventually had to switch it up so that I wouldn't just start on my own the moment she walked in the room.

When my mom returned, Daniel went to a nearby friend's house (thank you Alex, Michael, and Si!) for some much needed rest. I talked with my mom between naps and neuro exams. I begged to have my catheter out, but that wasn't an option because I wasn't losing as much as I was taking in, so they had to make some adjustments. Antibiotics were pumped through my IV. I eventually attempted to order some real food. Due to the muscle that was cut at my jaw, chewing wasn't an option, so mac and cheese was what I ordered. When it arrived, my belly just could not handle it. Don't get me wrong, it looked delicious, but the smell was too much for my stomach to handle.

Daniel returned and I spent some time with my mom and him. Eventually, I tried to eat the mac. One noodle and I was done. Mom left for the night. She absolutely deserved the rest...she had been up with me since 4 o'clock that morning. Daniel stuck around for a little while and we decided to try some soup. Three bites and then it came back. So food wasn't in the cards for me that first night.

Daniel eventually went home and I decided to rest. I was introduced to my night nurse and then it was time for some sleep. Throughout the night, the hourly wake ups for neuro testing continued. It cramped my sleep style a little, but for the most part, I was able to fall asleep shortly after he left and wake up about 10-30 seconds before he returned to my room.

When I finally woke up for the day, I decided to order a muffin and some juice to see how those would go. They stayed down (HOORAY!) but I could really only get through the top of the muffin before feeling slightly queazy. But it was a little victory and, less than 24 hours post-surgery, little victories were everything.

Friday morning's little victory...let me tell you, folks, that blueberry muffin was delicious.

My day nurse (who was the same one from the day prior) returned. She said that rounds would determine if I was off bedrest and able to have my catheter taken out. The PA came and saw me...all was well! Out it came and I was able to walk around. The nurse brought a recliner into my room and I was allowed to sit up in a chair. The dizziness definitely kicked in, but it felt SO nice to be out of bed. Daniel was pleasantly surprised when he arrived to find me resting and watching junk TV in my comfy recliner.

Shortly before 11, I was informed that I would be moving down the the neuro post-surgical wing, which was on the first floor. I was glad to know that I was doing well enough to move, but a little sad to have to leave what was such a comforting and restful place for me.

Kaiser Sunnyside ICU...you guys were WONDERFUL. I cannot thank you enough for your kindness, gentleness, and loving care. I felt so cared for. Thank you a million times over!!!

To be continued...

The Surgery, Part One.

Here's my plan. Looking at a computer screen for an extended period of time increases the amount of vertigo I experience (which is to be expected), so I'm going to break up blog posts about the surgery into shorter stories.

The Surgery, Part 1 - The Before and the During.

Wednesday night, my mom came up. We spent some time with Daniel, watching TV and eating Subway for my last meal before surgery. I made sure everything was packed and went to bed early. I struggled to fall asleep, even with a sleep aid on board, but eventually drifted off. 

Thursday morning, I woke up without issue and much earlier than I anticipated. But it allowed me the time to make sure all that I wanted at the hospital was ready to go. I wandered around the house aimlessly, claiming that I was working on something so that I didn't look too much like a crazy person. A little before 5:00, Daniel came over. We got everything ready and then I was covered in prayer by mom and Daniel. Mom and I shared some tears but then it was time to go.

On the way to the hospital, my mom and I talked a little bit about things that made us laugh and we listened to "Jesus is a Friend of Mine" (Seriously...if you haven't see it, please watch the video here). We checked in and then it was time for me to head back to the surgery prep area. Mom and Daniel couldn't come back with me right away, so I spent the first 45 minutes anxious and alone getting stuck with needles, being visited by different medical people, and silently crying out to my Heavenly Father. 

Daniel and my mom came back to visit, allowed me to cry, but gently reminded me of all the good that was about to come. They had someone from pastoral services come visit. She reminded me that it was okay to cry and covered me in prayer before I was wheeled back to the OR.

On my way back, I cried more. The neurosurgeon was so comforting through the process. The OR nurse played with my hair and tried to make me laugh. The anesthesiologist comforted me and tried to make me smile. I asked if it was normal to feel like I wanted to get up and walk out of the OR. The nurse said yes, but suggested against it. I eventually drifted off to sleep.

More to come in the next blog post (this one took forever...I needed to walk away a couple times to stop spinning). 

In my time in the Word before we left for the hospital, I asked for a verse for peace. I was directed to Philippians 4:6. It was a winner.

Mom shared this with me the morning of. It was a lifesaver as I recovered and would get frustrated. 

Short Post.

Hey all.

I'm home from the hospital as of about seven hours ago. It's so nice to be home. I only spent two nights in the hospital, but Dorothy said it perfectly...there's no place like home.

I'm going to blog more once I'm back on my feet a little better and have more of a grip on reality again. But I just wanted to say a HUGE thank you to everyone that was so thoughtful, prayerful, and loving throughout the past 72 hours. I honestly could not have gone through this as well as I did had it not been for positive thoughts and prayers that covered me.

Surgery is done. It was successful. I'm home. Life is good.

A Gnome for the Win.

My boys are precious. Ok, so technically they're not mine, but I've considered them to be "mine" while I'm at work.

Today, as we were getting ready to reminisce about a young man that will be graduating while I'm gone, one of my boys approached me. "Hey Ms. Lee?" "Yes?" "So...I know I kind of ruined the gnome in your office when I tried to fix him, so I wanted to give you this." And he hands me a little ceramic garden gnome. "I know you'll be gone for a month, and I hope you're know that we're really going to miss you. But I figured this guy could watch over you and make sure you feel better."

Cue the waterworks.

They may tantrum and call me names. They may tell me that hate me and say that they're going to refuse to meet with me. But gosh darn it, at the end of the day some days, I think they secretly like me.

Tomorrow is my last official day at work for the month. I'm still not 100% sure as to how I feel about it. Part of me is sad to go, part of me is a little happy about the break. Most of me knows that I'll be excruciatingly bored. But this isn't a blog about me or my job or my boys. It's about the fact that, in 36 hours, I'll be in the surgery prep area awaiting the close of one chapter in my life.

I've cried a few times today. In the shower this morning, I was convinced that I had made the wrong decision in choosing to do this surgery. When the gnome was placed in my hand, I teared up a little bit as I thanked the kiddo for his thoughtfulness. As I was driving home, realizing what the next few days would bring, I let out some tears of anxiety. Nothing's wrong with that. But it's certainly not comfortable at times. Funny how I again need to practice what I preach.

I don't doubt for a second that tomorrow will be difficult. And that tomorrow night, I wouldn't be surprised if I fell apart. But you know what the most glorious thing is? If I do fall apart, I have people in my life that will catch me and help me put the pieces back together. I am richly blessed for that.

Maybe my little gnome will bring me luck on Thursday and throughout the month of my healing. Maybe I'll give him a buddy once I get off the tilt-a-whirl and play some carnival games. Giant inflatable bat, anyone?

I'm Scared...

As I went in to work today, a number of people said to me, "Why are you here this week?" The answer is simple...I have to be busy. 

This weekend, I had the opportunity to really prepare. My hospital bag was checked off and packed. I planned out what I needed to do. I created a schedule and asked questions and tried to coordinate visitors and meals and so on and so forth. But all that busy work surrounding preparation made me realize something...I'm scared. 

I want people to realize that I appreciate the encouragement and the positive, forward thinking. Those are all VERY good things and VERY necessary things. However, sometimes I just need to be reassured that it's ok to be scared. That what's happening is scary and that what I'm feeling is normal. Normalizing can be a very comforting thing. 

As the six has now become three and, in just a few short hours, will become two, I'm allowing myself to feel that healthy level of nervousness and fear, all the while realizing what a wonderful thing I have to look forward to. But I can be scared and happy all at once, right?

Get ready, carnival. This girl is ready to go home.

Just looking at this picture makes me spin...so done with this ride...

Six...

On the drive home from Easter dinner with my family, I downloaded a countdown app on my phone. It was suggested to me that I don't because of the anxiety it could create, but I thought it would help me. It did a little of both.

I remember when it hit 30. I thought that was crazy because it meant the surgery was only a month away. I remember when it went under 20. Today, as I searched for another app on my phone, I came across the little red dot. In it was the number 6.

Whaaaaaaat

We're down to less than a week, folks.

Remember in my last post how I talked about the trip I'm going on and how it doesn't involve packing bags weeks beforehand because it's not exciting? Weeeeeeelllllllllll...my bag for the hospital may or may not have been mostly packed by last weekend.

All of my crazy coping skills have come into play over the past week. For example, my big exciting plans for Friday night involve me planning out my schedule for the next five days to ensure that I'm completely ready for the hospital, for surgery, and for the month I'll be home.

Work has been rough. I've relinquished my caseload to the interim case manager. I have full faith in her and I know she'll do a great job. But it's quite boring for me (selfish, I know). My boys are hit and miss. One of them threw a teenage tantrum because he didn't want me to leave. Another is extremely concerned that I won't be there for an important meeting next week (I'll be there). Yet another thought I had left without saying goodbye because I wasn't in his particular session that day. They definitely aren't helping with the guilt trip, but I just try to validate, acknowledge, and work through it with them. I try to make them realize that I'm human and that this is hard for me too.

I'm currently trying to determine if all this yuck I'm feeling about leaving work is just my anxiety about the surgery being channeled into something else. The counselor in me wants to know. The patient in me doesn't really care. The human being in me is just ready for all of this to be done and over with.

Only six more days until that can start.

It's a Trip...

...Not the good kind, either. Not the kind where you pack your bag weeks in advance because you're so excited to go. Or the one that you brag about on Facebook through pictures and status updates that passively rub it in people's faces that you're doing something awesome and they're not. No, it's the kind where your heart hurts a little and your stomach is in knots. It's the guilt trip.

As I'm preparing to transition out of work in less than two weeks, I'm dealing with way more guilt than I ever expected to. It's only a month that I'll be away, but little did I know that there were a lot of things happening in that month.

As I left work yesterday, I had someone ask me to speak at their graduation, which I always take as an honor (and I try to make sure that they know I feel that way). With a lump in my throat, I asked when it was. As fate would have it, it's over the month that I'm gone. As are two other graduations that I would love to be at.

Driving home today, I found myself thinking about letting people down. I thought about how much it sucks and how much we, as a society, value the needs of others over our own. It's not true of everyone by any means, but maybe I just see it more in my field.

Am I letting people down by taking this time to heal? More than likely, yes. But if I don't utilize this time to take care of myself, what could happen? In all reality, the future let down could be one hundred times worse. To my clients, to my family, and to myself.

Maybe I'm being selfish. Maybe it's self-care. Maybe it's just complete exhaustion. All I know is this...

For the past seven years, I've hidden what I go through. I don't want pity or sympathy so I don't share what I'm feeling. In doing all of that, I've let myself down.

The take away from this blog post shouldn't be that I'm asking for sympathy or that I'm throwing a pity party for myself. In fact, it's the exact opposite. I'm taking a stand for myself. I'm telling the world that I have vertigo and sometimes it can be really hard to deal with. But I'm going to take care of myself and let everyone else know that it's ok to do that. To show your scars and your hidden hurts so that they can heal. To take care of yourself.

My name is Shannon and I have Superior Semicircular Canal Dehiscence. But I'm going to get better. I'm going to get off the tilt-a-whirl and discover other things about the amusement park. I'm going to enjoy cotton candy, take in the view from the top of the ferris wheel, ride a roller coaster, and, at the end of the day, leave with the knowledge that I'm the best version of me.

And We Breathe...

My family is the best. Don't question me. Don't argue with me. Just accept it and move on.

I just returned from a tour of the hospital where I will be having surgery and where I will be staying. My cousin works for that hospital and showed me around to help me ease my anxiety. Kim, I cannot express to you just how grateful I am that you were willing to do that.

Kaiser Sunnyside Medical Center

She showed me the surgery waiting area and talked about what my family could expect. She explained that while in the SPA (Surgery Prep Area...yeah, talk about a let down...), I need to challenge myself to relinquish control and know that everyone there knows what they're doing. I'm sure that comment was made because she knows how much of a Type A I can be.

Surgery Waiting Area

She showed me the ICU and talked to me about what to expect there. She challenged me to remember that I know myself and I know my body, so to tell what I'm feeling and what I need. She explained how food works and how I can measure how far I walked based on the number of hearts I walk past (1 heart on the wall means you've gone 25 feet).

She showed me rooms on the medical floor and explained what to expect there. She explained how to get around and where to go and how to get needs met. She basically took my anxiety down about 17 notches, which is MIRACULOUS, considering where I am right now with that.

Hospital Lobby

While I still have a long way to go to get rid of the anxiety, and I'm certain that won't happen until well after the surgery is over, I was reminded today of the amazing support system that I have around me. From friends recommending what to bring, to coworkers who are willing to visit me and take care of my house while I'm in the hospital, to family who is willing to drop anything to be there, I have to be one of the most blessed people on the face of the Earth.

The crazy family I'm blessed to call mine. Kim is on my left in the cream-ish colored sweater.