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| Ebby, Sareana, and Nicola |
My, oh my, how much has transpired since the last
time I wrote. For one, I had brain surgery a week ago today. I’ve had tears of
sadness, tears of joy, felt pain, had plenty of pain-relieving drugs, felt much
anguish and worry, slept quite a lot, taken deep breaths, breaths of
anticipation, and breaths of relief. I made it through part one of this long,
arduous process. Good on me, but the fight isn’t over-- not by a long shot.
On the morning of my surgery, it felt strange to walk into
a hospital feeling perfectly healthy, having biked a tough ride the previous
day with Erin, yet at 3:30am tearfully kissing my kids’
foreheads as they slept so soundly to say goodbye. My check-in time at the hospital was 5:45am, but despite
the early check-in Erin and I decided to stay in Fort Collins knowing we wouldn’t get a
wink of sleep anyway. When we arrived at the pre-surgery check in area in
Denver I started doing exercises to psych myself up. I lunged, did push-ups,
jumped up and down, stretched, loosened up my neck back and forth, did a yoga
pose or two. I’m sure it looked like I was getting ready for a fight, which
wasn’t all that far from the truth. I’m sure the other patients or caregivers sitting in the waiting room watching
me wondered what the heck is she doing, but at that point I didn’t care. My
focus was knowing that at any second I would be called in to the inpatient prep
room and begin the fight of my life.
First, I put on a one-size only fashionable hospital gown,
which immediately identifies one as a patient. Next, the resident doc came in to
begin prepping me for surgery even though surgery wouldn’t begin until hours later. She put markers all over my head, which she explained would help guide
docs during surgery to keep my head in place. About five blue/black markers that
looked like eyeballs were attached close to my hairline of my forehead, which I
believe made me look like an alien and other markers were put on my skull in
various places. She had to shave small swaths of hair in order for them to
stick. She put dark circles around all the markers in case they became
detached, which added to the attractiveness of my ensemble. Next, they rolled
me off to get an MRI where they’d have an up-to-date brain scan prior to
surgery. Many hours later I’d have another MRI scan right after surgery as
well. Following the pre-op scan I returned to the prep room to be greeted by
Erin and my parents, who were happy to see me although naturally a bit taken aback by the markers on my face. Prior to surgery we were visited by a myriad of doctors,
nurses and finally the anesthesiologist. We confirmed that I would have a
lumbar puncture (spinal tap) prior to my brain surgery to ensure that no cancer
cells had metastasized to my spine. Having had a spinal tap once before in
2008, I was happy to be under anesthesia this time around. The anesthesiologist
wheeled me back to the operating room and before we arrived I was “asleep.”
I also got a much-needed visit from Alex and Dean on Sunday who were so happy to see me, and I them; they offered the kind of medicine no one can prescribe. On Tuesday, I was released from the hospital and decided to spend one extra night in Denver at a condo of my mom’s friend who graciously offered her space. My parents, Nicola and I all agreed how special it was for the nuclear Pinson family to be together, a rarity anymore (Erin had gone back to Fort Collins to be with the boys). We took a walk around our old neighborhood elementary school and reminisced about how so much has changed since we were little girls.
Though pathology has not yet been released, the wheels are
already turning as to where/when I might start treatment. We are considering a
number of different options and will eventually choose the best course of
action for my particular case. This may involve traveling to a few different
hospitals in the next few weeks to meet with doctors in person. No matter what
the outcome, it’s most likely treatment will begin in three or four weeks. This
gives me a little recovery time and time to be home with my boys who have been
extra sweet to their mama. I’ll give you two examples: Alex gave me a big hug
when I got home and said, “Mom, I’m so happy to see you, I love you to the moon
and back.” Putting Dean down for bed the first night I was home I began to
quietly cry in the dark because I was just so happy to be there. Dean got out
of bed and said, “Mom, why are you crying?” I told him I was happy to be
home. I asked him what I should do to stop crying. He said in a whisper, “Wipe
your tears and take a deep breath. It'll be okay.” How is it that a seven and three-year old
can understand human nature so well despite their complete innocence to the
pain their mother is going through? They are so precious. I’m one lucky mama!
Love,
Sareana
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