What does perspective have to do with anything?
In September 2011, at the age of 39, I was presented with one of the most anxiety-inducing situations of my life. So, what on this great green earth could cause me to experience such stress? I was told that I would have to undergo a life-affirming event. This was utterly stressful for me. What type of life-affirming event could this be, you may ask.
Well, in June 2011, I began seeking treatment for migraine, again. I have been suffering from migraine since I was a child. The first one I remember, I was 8. However, my mother told me that it was long before that. Through the process of developing a new treatment program for my migraine by a specialist, I was able to have several tests run to help rule out things. One of these tests was an MRI with contrast. This is not my favorite thing to talk about, so bear with me. :)
So, I scheduled the MRI. I attended the MRI. And I continued on with my life. It was not until September 1, 2011, that I was informed of the severity of this situation.
As my Neurologist was getting on to me for taking medication from my PCP, she asked me if I had gotten my MRI done. I told her that it had been done in July and that I had assumed everything was okay since I had heard nothing. She stated that she had never received the results and excused herself to go and get those results.
I sat in the quiet exam room thinking about what I wanted to do with the rest of my day. I had the entire day off and I was able to go shopping if I wanted. It was a beautiful opportunity for me…at that moment. However, it was only moments later that I heard my neurologist walking very quickly down the hall. She came through the door with a very intense look on her face and began to give me the results of the MRI.
She began speaking and I heard every word. However, I stopped her in the middle of her informed speech and told her to start over. She stated, “You have an aneurysm on your internal carotid artery at the ophthalmic branch…” I stopped her again so that I could process this situation. As I became fully aware of the implications, I told her to go on. She held up her pinky and continued, “It is about 8mm x 4mm”. I stopped her again and looked at my pinky nail. This was about the size that she was talking about. I told her, “I am having difficulty processing this right now. Can you give me a minute?” She looked at me caringly and said, “Absolutely.” I asked her, “So, what do we do about this?” She answered that she was going to set me up with a neurosurgeon to schedule a repair. I thought, “HOLY SHIT! … I know what an aneurysm is. I know where the internal carotid is, and I know its purpose. I know what those measurements mean. I also know that a neurosurgeon is going to be messing with my head.”
With that being done and dusted, she stated that she wanted to take a minute to make a phone call. She excused herself again and began to make her way briskly down the hall. It seemed like forever until she returned, but it was only about 3 minutes. She walked back in and told me that I was to go to the hospital for pre-surgery testing on September 9…my anniversary, YAY! So, I began wondering what all of this meant. She told me what she could about the process of aneurysm repair and that she had referred me to one of the most renowned neurosurgeons in the US and even that he was literally world-renowned. I was still terrified.
In just 8 days, I was about to embark on an adventure that could in fact change my whole life. This was a big day, to say the least. The only things that I remember about that were that I called my husband to inform him, and then I called my sister to inform her. The rest of the day is a blur.
On September 9, I literally spent the entire day at the hospital. My first appointment was at 9 am for pre-surgery testing. I then went to get a follow-up CT with contrast. From there, I went back to the neurosurgeon’s office to talk about the results. This is where life got really real. I was informed that the aneurysm had actually gotten larger, but the exact measurement was not given to me. I was simply told that this is referred to as a large aneurysm. Luckily, this time, I wasn’t on my own. My husband of 12 years was there by my side. This was still a very intense day. It was so intense that I began crying in the CT machine. I was hugely disappointed because here it is my 12th anniversary, and I am sitting in a damn hospital. The radiology tech came into the room and asked me if I was comfortable or if I was having some type of reaction to the dye. I told him that I was just sad that I had to spend all day in the hospital on my anniversary. His response was one of the sweetest things that happened all day. He said, “I am so sorry. Happy anniversary. I know that it is not much, but here are some vouchers for the cafeteria. We have one of the best cafeterias in the state.” I apologized for my crying, but I accepted his gift with a grin and a slight giggle of relief at the comfort that he offered.
So, on from there. I went to sit for hours in the doctor’s actual clinic…still within the hospital. YAY! I think that I know this hospital way too well at this point. When I got in to see the doctor, it was more stress, more paperwork, and more questions. To say that the day was overwhelming is a HUGE understatement, but I “soldiered on” because I really had no choice. During this time, I had some "informed consent” paperwork to complete. One of such papers included several lines to initial. One of the lines read that there is a 50% chance of survival, but the next line read that there was a 50% chance of that survival rate that I would be in a vegetative state. This makes my odds of survival and full function at 25%. Easy math for me. I then told the doctor, that I really did not want to initial these things. He told me that I did not have to. However, if I did not acknowledge this, I will not be able to undergo the surgery. He continued that if I do not have the surgery, I will have a much lower odds of survival. This put everything into quick perspective. I just needed to be aware of the potential. It was not saying that it was going to happen. Of course, I signed the paperwork.
My husband and I spent the next few hours meeting with him and his head nurse to get things sorted and scheduled. His nurse was very direct and very aware…a true keeper of the gate, so to speak. My surgery was scheduled for October 31, Halloween, almost 2 months away. That was plenty of time to deny that this was happening. It was also plenty of time to overthink it all. I did both…a lot!
As the “big day” approached, I called a friend of mine whose husband had recently had an aneurysm rupture and repaired. This was one of the most calming conversations that I had regarding the topic. I told her what was up, and she asked me who my doctor was. When I told her, she gave a relieved sigh, and said, “Oh, if that is your doctor, I am not worried about you at all. He is great. You are in good hands.” Apparently, the doctor who was about to potentially change my life was the very same doctor that saved her husband’s life. This gave me a sense of hope and a big sense of gratitude for her accolades regarding the neurosurgeon. Keep in mind that she and I had been friends for 12 years prior to this, and we are still friends to this day. Love you, Jan!
So, having the work ethic that I have, I went to work the next day. I may have been in denial, I don’t know. However, when I showed up to work, I met with my clinical supervisor and told her what was going on. She looked at me like I was out of my mind and asked, “Should you even be working? I need your doctor to tell me that it is okay for you to even be here since this is a busy, high-stress environment.” So, I called his office. His nurse/gatekeeper told me that I should not be at work. She told me that I could work at the most 4 hours a day prior to surgery, but that would be only if I did not do call and maximize my rest prior to surgery. Before I could even get to the fax machine, the fax had already come through. My supervisor sent me home that day. Although this was done from a place of caring concern, I felt like a scolded child that was just grounded. I loved my job (still do), and I loved what I did for my clients (again, still do).
This was the beginning of a 6-year process…more to come.
