I took my first test since having surgery (surgeries.) And of all the test that it could, it was a midterm. The moment the test date was announced is the moment I realized how truly worried I, about what I may have lost. I willingly gave up 3 weeks of classes so I know that I lost those lectures, and those notes. But I also may have lost things beyond my control? I needed to know that my academic cognition was still, as I left it before surgery. My memory retention and recall would need to work. the word "midterm" carried he weight of all that. It also brought with it the reality that I, knowingly, risked all of that.
So much of my identity revolves around academics and how "smart" I am, and can be. I spent elementary straight through high school fighting stigmas, and misjudgments about my capabilities. So now I wear my GPA like some vindication badge of honor. I'd probably tattoo it across my forehead if they'd let me. Maybe that's why I'm 33 and still in school.
On the day of the midterm I stared down at that Scantron and thought to myself "Taniya, you better not have screwed this up for yourself!" I filled in my bubbles. Some I colored in with unwavering confidence, and some with dread. I went home that night and went over every question, I could, remember, in my head. I analyzed every question, searched through notes to try to find the potential answer. This was my effort to calculate which questions I definitely got wrong, and what my ultimate grade would be.
I got my test back on Wednesday, and I got an 88. If this had been a year ago I would have went home with my tail between my legs, completely dissatisfied. I spent hours studying, I lost sleep, and I stressed like crazy. It was at that point that I mentally slapped myself. Because if this were a year ago I would have still done all the above, and then had a seizure during the test.
This 88 was more than just a grade. This 88 is hope. This 88 is also proof that the gamble I took didn't cost me anything. I'm still "OK." it's too soon to speak the words "seizure free," but I can say that I got through an event that would often trigger a seizure, for me. (stress and lack of sleep.) and got through it "seizure free" and still have a brain that works well enough to get an 88 on a Neuroscience midterm. At this moment I can smile and say That's better than getting 100!!
Friday, April 25, 2014
Friday, April 4, 2014
When there's a curve in the road be sure to bend with it
My final epilepsy surgery was competed in February. I had the same team of amazing people rallying around. There were times when I couldn't tell who wanted this to work, more: me, my doctors, my family or my friends. The love and support I felt was overwhelming.
I spent my first night in the Neuro ICU, blissfully unaware of what my head had just endured. The question people ask, most often, is: Did it hurt? YES. I have high pain tolerance, and try to avoid narcotic pain killers, but that was not possible this time around! Being a "neuro patient" I got the joy of being harassed with a neurological assessment every 4 hours! That basically means some nurse would wake me, from my drug induced slumber, by shining a light in my eyes. They would then ask me any combination of the following questions: : "What's your name?" "What's today's date?" Who's the president? Some questions received some snarky answers. Like: "Even if I did suffer some neurological deficit during surgery I think I would have memorized that Obama is the president based on the last 12 times someone has come in here to ask me, before your shift even started! ICU or not I felt well enough to remain my charming sarcastic self.
By day 2 it was my neurological assessment that I was going through. One of the very first things I established when i opened my eyes was that I could still see ... out of both eye. it sounds strange, and I know that. Leading up to surgery they go over all the risk, and the things you can lose as a result. My biggest one was the vision in my left eye, but I signed all the paperwork anyway! So knowing I could see was, already, a "win." After that I went through the small things: I knew I could speak, my memory seemed fine, I recognized faces and understood English. I was content, but not quite satisfied. I craved further validation. I need to know that as i lay in that bed I was still "smart" I wanted confirmation that I was still going to become everything that I wanted to be, within the timeframe that I had set. And then my phone rang.
My professor was calling to see how I was feeling, and how surgery had gone. He's a Neurologist so the first thing I told him was how idiotic it was to assume you are testing some's neurological function by asking who the president is every four hours! He chuckled and said "Well you sure sound like yourself!" Hmmm does that mean I complain and bitch a lot in my daily life? Then he said "Would you like me to give a quick Neurological assessment?" Oh good god! I thought. And then he started with his questions: "Taniya, give me the definition of phagocytosis." "In the Renal the outer portion of the kidney is called ____." He pulled questions from things that I'd learned over the past 13-16 months. And every time he said right I jumped on my mental pogo stick and went bouncing off into the sunset! That's exactly what I needed! I didn't leave any of what I, quietly, defined as my intelligence on that operating table.
After 3 days in the hospital, and week at home I went back to school. I was jumping right back into my life. If you want to go back to feeling well you have to go back to doing the things you did when you were well (if you are still able.) My doctor urged me to take off the semester off, but I refused. Last year I gave him an entire semester and the seizures came back anyway. I wasn't giving up anymore time. I settled back into my old routine, quickly.
I had been having dizzy spells on and off since coming home. I found 100 of things I could blame them on: I aven't eaten, it's the medication, I'm overtired etc.
Last week there was no explaining things away. Surgery had felt like it was so long ago, so complications were no longer on my radar. I could see, hear, speak and pass any A&P test in my sleep. I was in the clear. Wasn't I? ... Not quite just yet. The thing about "complications" is they can be anything and happen at any point. I always viewed complications as something that goes wrong during or IMMEDIATELY after surgery. I certainly didn't think they were something that would show up almost a month later, nor was it something I was willing to think about.
Post surgery, my body wasn't absorbing my cerebrospinal fluid as quickly as it was produced. Essentially I was accumulating "water on the Brain." Getting back to the list of risk and complications ... I'm not sure I paid much attention to this one! It got my attention real fast when my surgeon came in and said "I know how to fix this." Note: If a surgeon tell you he knows how to fix something, trust it involves cutting someone open! He said "I'd like to take you to the O.R on Monday, and put in a shunt." I'm sure if I could have sat up I would have yelled something obscene. But I was too dizzy to even be able to sit up. I was disappointed and upset. I saw the one path I was, already, on. The one that had been free from complications and drama, for nearly a month. I didn't want to start over or try again. I just wanted to be seizure free ... and for a month I had been.
Where was this unforeseen turn taking me? I didn't know, but I had no choice but to turn also. My brain was literally drowning in it's own fluid. The world, viewed through my eyes, was constantly spinning. So with shaking hands I chased the signature line around the page, as it continued to spin. I quickly scribbled some version of "Taniya L. Faulk" that may, or may not have resembled my actual signature. And with that I went to surgery. That was almost 2 weeks ago.
This isn't the way I want things to go, but looking back all I ever asked was for them to go wee. Thus far they have. I hated the need for an additional surgery. (sure, I'll eventually add it to my tally and feel even cooler!) However, I had to find a way to be ok with things were going to play out. For me to recover and continue to thrive I had to follow that small bend in the middle of my path.
I spent my first night in the Neuro ICU, blissfully unaware of what my head had just endured. The question people ask, most often, is: Did it hurt? YES. I have high pain tolerance, and try to avoid narcotic pain killers, but that was not possible this time around! Being a "neuro patient" I got the joy of being harassed with a neurological assessment every 4 hours! That basically means some nurse would wake me, from my drug induced slumber, by shining a light in my eyes. They would then ask me any combination of the following questions: : "What's your name?" "What's today's date?" Who's the president? Some questions received some snarky answers. Like: "Even if I did suffer some neurological deficit during surgery I think I would have memorized that Obama is the president based on the last 12 times someone has come in here to ask me, before your shift even started! ICU or not I felt well enough to remain my charming sarcastic self.
By day 2 it was my neurological assessment that I was going through. One of the very first things I established when i opened my eyes was that I could still see ... out of both eye. it sounds strange, and I know that. Leading up to surgery they go over all the risk, and the things you can lose as a result. My biggest one was the vision in my left eye, but I signed all the paperwork anyway! So knowing I could see was, already, a "win." After that I went through the small things: I knew I could speak, my memory seemed fine, I recognized faces and understood English. I was content, but not quite satisfied. I craved further validation. I need to know that as i lay in that bed I was still "smart" I wanted confirmation that I was still going to become everything that I wanted to be, within the timeframe that I had set. And then my phone rang.
My professor was calling to see how I was feeling, and how surgery had gone. He's a Neurologist so the first thing I told him was how idiotic it was to assume you are testing some's neurological function by asking who the president is every four hours! He chuckled and said "Well you sure sound like yourself!" Hmmm does that mean I complain and bitch a lot in my daily life? Then he said "Would you like me to give a quick Neurological assessment?" Oh good god! I thought. And then he started with his questions: "Taniya, give me the definition of phagocytosis." "In the Renal the outer portion of the kidney is called ____." He pulled questions from things that I'd learned over the past 13-16 months. And every time he said right I jumped on my mental pogo stick and went bouncing off into the sunset! That's exactly what I needed! I didn't leave any of what I, quietly, defined as my intelligence on that operating table.
After 3 days in the hospital, and week at home I went back to school. I was jumping right back into my life. If you want to go back to feeling well you have to go back to doing the things you did when you were well (if you are still able.) My doctor urged me to take off the semester off, but I refused. Last year I gave him an entire semester and the seizures came back anyway. I wasn't giving up anymore time. I settled back into my old routine, quickly.
I had been having dizzy spells on and off since coming home. I found 100 of things I could blame them on: I aven't eaten, it's the medication, I'm overtired etc.
Last week there was no explaining things away. Surgery had felt like it was so long ago, so complications were no longer on my radar. I could see, hear, speak and pass any A&P test in my sleep. I was in the clear. Wasn't I? ... Not quite just yet. The thing about "complications" is they can be anything and happen at any point. I always viewed complications as something that goes wrong during or IMMEDIATELY after surgery. I certainly didn't think they were something that would show up almost a month later, nor was it something I was willing to think about.
Post surgery, my body wasn't absorbing my cerebrospinal fluid as quickly as it was produced. Essentially I was accumulating "water on the Brain." Getting back to the list of risk and complications ... I'm not sure I paid much attention to this one! It got my attention real fast when my surgeon came in and said "I know how to fix this." Note: If a surgeon tell you he knows how to fix something, trust it involves cutting someone open! He said "I'd like to take you to the O.R on Monday, and put in a shunt." I'm sure if I could have sat up I would have yelled something obscene. But I was too dizzy to even be able to sit up. I was disappointed and upset. I saw the one path I was, already, on. The one that had been free from complications and drama, for nearly a month. I didn't want to start over or try again. I just wanted to be seizure free ... and for a month I had been.
Where was this unforeseen turn taking me? I didn't know, but I had no choice but to turn also. My brain was literally drowning in it's own fluid. The world, viewed through my eyes, was constantly spinning. So with shaking hands I chased the signature line around the page, as it continued to spin. I quickly scribbled some version of "Taniya L. Faulk" that may, or may not have resembled my actual signature. And with that I went to surgery. That was almost 2 weeks ago.
This isn't the way I want things to go, but looking back all I ever asked was for them to go wee. Thus far they have. I hated the need for an additional surgery. (sure, I'll eventually add it to my tally and feel even cooler!) However, I had to find a way to be ok with things were going to play out. For me to recover and continue to thrive I had to follow that small bend in the middle of my path.
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