PART ONE
THE ONSLAUGHT
Life has a way of jolting us back to reality from time to time, making us aware of just how fragile it all is. I have experienced a few of these life-changing events in my 73-year journey; the most recent took me within knocking distance of heaven's door.
I have been plagued with headaches for a good part of my life. Though never tested thoroughly or officially diagnosed, I was convinced I had migraines; the throbbing pain and sensitivity to light and noise that accompanied my headaches were classic migraine symptoms,. But on the evening of June 7, 2012, I was struck down with the worst head pain I had ever experienced. I took my usual migraine medication and went to bed to relieve the agony. It felt like a knife stabbing through the top of my head and into my eyes. I had no idea, however, that this pain was not a migraine.
Two hours after taking my medication, I was awakened again with the same intense pain. This time, however, it was accompanied by nausea and vomiting. I knew I needed relief, so I shook my husband and woke him. "I need to go to the emergency room," I said.
Barely aware of what I was saying, he grunted, "What?"
"I said--I need to go to the ER."
He opened his eyes and looked at me like I was crazy! But seeing the pain in my eyes galvanized him into action. He quickly dressed, escorted me to the car, and drove me to the hospital. The ER staff did their job and gave me a liter of fluid through my veins. They also gave me some IV medication that put me to sleep and relieved my pain. When it was time to go home, I felt a little dizzy, but they said that was normal.
My relief was short lived with the headaches returning the following day. They weren't as severe and responded well to my migraine medication so I continued to endure them for another nine days. Having been a registered nurse in the Intensive Care Unit for 35 years, I had a gut sense that something else was going on. For once in my stubborn life, I listened to these deep visceral feelings and the prodding of my husband and called my physician. My husband and I explained my circumstances, and were sent back to the hospital to get a CT Scan of my head.
At this point, I felt like I was living in a nightmare. Nothing seemed real. When I returned to my room from having the scan, the doctor came to my bedside with a concerned look on his face. He took me by the hand and looked me in the eyes, "Your CT Scan shows a very large head bleed on the left side," he said. "It corresponds to where your headaches are located. We are going to have to send you to a hospital in Portland where you can receive a higher level of care."
I felt numb. Completely numb. I knew from my medical training how serious this diagnosis was. I have helped prepare many patients for transport to a higher level of care facility. Some of those patients made it; some of them did not. I told my doctor, I wanted to see the x-ray, and so he took me to the doctor's dictating room where the x-ray was already up on the view box. When I looked at it, my knees began to buckle.
"May I sit down?" I asked. He brought me a chair and the two of us went over the areas of the brain that were affected. The bleed, a subdural hematoma, was huge and had shifted my whole brain to the right side by one millimeter. No wonder I was having headaches!
When I had seen enough, we went back to my room and the staff got me ready for transport.
All during my ride to Portland in the back of an ambulance, my head was swimming for answers. How did this happen? I didn't even remember bumping my head? The Paramedics were very attentive, but they had no answers. Upon my arrival at Oregon Health Sciences University (OHSU) I was taken via gurney to the Neurological Intensive Care Unit (ICU0.
Our brain is the electronic powerhouse that controls our bodies, (shaped much like the two halves of a walnut). Wrapped around that brain is a tough, protective meningeal membrane called the Arachnoid Mater. Between that membrane and the next one, is a small space which is the home of bridging blood vessels. The other membrane, the Dura Mater, is the second protective covering for the brain. Due to an injury to the brain, tiny blood vessels between the two membranes rupture and the resulting blood flow fills that limited space, then starts compressing the brain itself that can cause brain tissue damage.
There are two types of subdural hematomas, acute and chronic. Of the two, acute is the most life threatening. These are often the result of "high speed acceleration or deceleration injuries and have a high mortality rate," according to Wikipedia.
"Chronic subdural bleeds develop over a period of weeks, often after minor head trauma," Wikipedia states. These bleeds are common in the elderly, due to atrophy (shrinking) of the brain, which stretches the veins in the subdural space making them fragile and easily broken.
My head bleed fell into the category of a chronic subdural hematoma. My doctor said it had been leaking for quite some time. His plan was to observe me for a few days and then, if needed, they would go in and evacuate the blood. I decided to settle into my new "home" for the duration and let the professionals take care of me.
On Monday, I had a pleasant surprise when my four daughters came to see me. My husband also managed to get an emergency week off work making it feel like a family reunion, though frustrating and sad to be under such grim circumstances.
I don't remember a lot about Monday. Most of it was a blur because of the pain and the meds I was given to treat it. Later, JerriAnne, my third daughter said, "The pain killers made you loopy." Debi, my second daughter said, "You were in a lot of pain and wanted to be left alone." My husband said, "I saw that, even with pain meds, you were literally tormented with head pain and just wanted to rest."
On Tuesday, June 18, 2012 I felt very emotional and unsure of my future. I was angry--"Why me? What have I done to deserve this?" I was afraid--"What can I expect as an outcome of brain surgery? Will I be cognitively or physically impaired? Would I have memory of who I am and what my life had been or was like?" I even thought, "Would I come out of all of this alive?" And, I was anxious--anxious for my family, anxious for my friends and of course, anxious for myself.
That afternoon, I looked around the room, into the eyes of my four daughters, and I didn't know who they were. I knew my husband's name but not who he was. I didn't know where I was. I didn't know what day it was, or even the month, date or year. But I did know that Obama was the President. I said his name loud and clear in a low, guttural tone. My husband said he laughed at that one. My doctor immediately cleared his surgical schedule and prepped me for a craniotomy. Time was not on my side. The longer we waited, the bigger the bleed would become and the pressure could do more damage to my brain.
I was wheeled out of the room on a gurney. I left my family not knowing whether I was going to have a complete craniotomy, where they remove a sizable portion of the skull to get to the hematoma, or drill holes and place a drain or two to accomplish the same goal.
I don't remember going for an MRI on the way to surgery. I don't remember being wheeled into the surgical suite. And, thankfully, I do not remember the surgery.
My heart went out to my family, as they were witnesses to these events. Somewhere in my confused state, I did know I was in good hands. Not only did I have a brilliant and competent surgeon, I knew I was being taken care of by my loving Savior, the ultimate healer and physician, who would guide the surgeon every step of the way.
When I awakened back in my room, I was relieved to find they had only drilled two holes. I could feel two drains coming out of the top of my head. The nurses had to remind me to keep my hands off of those drains! I was pretty groggy from anesthesia, but instantly relieved that I recognized my girls and husband and witnessed the joy that came into their faces as they saw me returning to my former self.
I knew I had some cognitive issues right away. When I talked, I slurred my words and had difficulty finding the right words for what I wanted to say. It was a frustrating feeling.
As time moved on and my prayers slowly brought me closer and closer to the person I was before the bleed, I began to feel a gratitude in my heart such as I had never felt before. Coming so close to knocking on the Gates of Heaven made me realize how fragile life is, and how valuable every second of it is.
That afternoon, I looked around the room, into the eyes of my four daughters, and I didn't know who they were. I knew my husband's name but not who he was. I didn't know where I was. I didn't know what day it was, or even the month, date or year. But I did know that Obama was the President. I said his name loud and clear in a low, guttural tone. My husband said he laughed at that one. My doctor immediately cleared his surgical schedule and prepped me for a craniotomy. Time was not on my side. The longer we waited, the bigger the bleed would become and the pressure could do more damage to my brain.
I was wheeled out of the room on a gurney. I left my family not knowing whether I was going to have a complete craniotomy, where they remove a sizable portion of the skull to get to the hematoma, or drill holes and place a drain or two to accomplish the same goal.
I don't remember going for an MRI on the way to surgery. I don't remember being wheeled into the surgical suite. And, thankfully, I do not remember the surgery.
My heart went out to my family, as they were witnesses to these events. Somewhere in my confused state, I did know I was in good hands. Not only did I have a brilliant and competent surgeon, I knew I was being taken care of by my loving Savior, the ultimate healer and physician, who would guide the surgeon every step of the way.
When I awakened back in my room, I was relieved to find they had only drilled two holes. I could feel two drains coming out of the top of my head. The nurses had to remind me to keep my hands off of those drains! I was pretty groggy from anesthesia, but instantly relieved that I recognized my girls and husband and witnessed the joy that came into their faces as they saw me returning to my former self.
I knew I had some cognitive issues right away. When I talked, I slurred my words and had difficulty finding the right words for what I wanted to say. It was a frustrating feeling.
As time moved on and my prayers slowly brought me closer and closer to the person I was before the bleed, I began to feel a gratitude in my heart such as I had never felt before. Coming so close to knocking on the Gates of Heaven made me realize how fragile life is, and how valuable every second of it is.
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