Scary Night

Now this wasn’t a scary time for me, like before, God had me wrapped in a blanket of peace. I more wondered what Dan and the doctor’s were so concerned with.

I’m fine!

As I’ve mentioned before, the red light on my finger was my beacon in the night to get Dan’s attention if I needed something. At this point, Dan stays up with me all night, and my mom and/or dad stay up all day so Dan can sleep.

I am not able to roll myself over or speak to ask for meds. So when I want something, I flag Dan down and we go through a mixture of stellar sign language and gestures to figure out what I wanted. Poor Dan.

One time, I wanted something, no idea what, so I wave my right hand.

Dan, “Honey, I’m right here.”

I’m laying on my side, and I can’t see him. I’m not sure what he means, “I’m right here.” So I wave my hand again.

Dan, “Emily, I’m right here. Can you see me?

Right were? I can’t see you anywhere!

Dan, “Emily, look at me.”

I think I’ve figured out that he is on my left side, but I am turned on my right side. I might have turned my head or not at all. I’m not sure.

Dan goes for the nurse.

Dan explains to the nurse our waving procedure, and that this time, I didn’t look at him when he is sitting right next to me. I really couldn’t see him, and I didn’t really understand the big deal of the situation.

The neuro-doctor on staff for the night comes into my room. He is a young little pipsqueak fresh out of med school, couldn’t be more than a few years older than me. He discusses with the nurse and Dan then comes over to check me out.

Stuffed-shirt Doctor to Dan, “Can she speak?”

Dan, “She can respond to yes/no question.”

I could nod, shake my head, or give hand motions like a thumbs up, but that was the extent of my communicating skills at that time.

Stuffed-shirt Doctor, “Can you hear me, Emily?”

Me: Nod head.

Stuffed-shirt Doctor, “I’m going to test your vision. Follow the light with your eyes only. Don’t move your head.”

I really tried to follow the light, and at times, I thought I was doing it. I mean, I was having neuro checks all the time before surgery and acing them, what was different this time?

Nurse, “Wow, that’s a really bright light.”

Side note: they use the oldest flashlights with the weakest batteries to do their neuro-checks. They always warm you, “bright light.” But it’s never bright.

Stuffed-shirt Doctor, “Yeah, I made sure to get a bright pen light. It’s the brightest out there.”

Right then and there I decided I didn’t like him. He was more concerned with the wattage on his pen light then the condition of my brain.

Slight exaggeration, but I did decide I didn’t like him them. Arrogant, snot.

Stuffed-shirt doctor, “It would appear she has an oral fixation on the right. It may or may not go away with time. We’ll just have to keep watching it.”

This means that the brain was irritated or swollen from surgery, and it was not allowing my eyes to look to the left. Weird, huh? I could compensate y turning my head, but looking just with the eyes didn’t work.