I am ready to admit that I underestimated the magnitude of this surgery. Twelve days ago I had my acoustic neuroma brain tumor removed and I am now home recuperating, thanks be to God. I had a couple of months to mentally prepare for this event, connected with others who had acoustic neuromas removed and I simply felt like super woman when I got ready to go. I was jolly in the office, joked about having a brain tumor and tried to make it as simple in my mind as I could. But again, sometimes I can be wrong.

The day before my surgery was spent on pre-op appointment after appointment. Not a lot of time to think about the event itself. My final test for that day came after 5 p.m. with my surgical MRI and by 6:45, my mind began to spill over into what the next day might hold. I began to feel the small pangs of fear within me. Not wanting to show that, I tried to keep the stiff upper lip. My daughter finally arrived which was a wonderful thing, but seeing her made me more vulnerable. I don’t get to see her a lot so when I do I get emotional. This was no exception.   So here the four of us were, my husband, my son and my daughter, trying to make small talk Wednesday evening and trying to mentally prepare ourselves for the next day, which would start at 4:15 a.m.

We were told to check in for surgery at 5:15 so at 5 a.m. we all started the journey from our hotel rooms across the street to surgery. We were walking together but my insides were screaming. Keep it together Marcy. When we arrived there were lots of people there waiting to check in as well. Guess it was a big surgery day in the hospital. It finally got to be my turn. I checked in and thank God they let my family come back and be with me until they took me to surgery. I was on the verge of tears every second and I did not want to cry in front of my family. I needed to show them I was ok and strong, right? Initially they only allowed two people in the family to be with you at a time. But my daughter has never been one to take NO very well, so next thing I know, there she is. Good job Loni.

We continue to make small talk while all the people come in and out of the room explaining to us what is going to happen and asking me 9,000 questions and most of them are the same questions. At this point all I can think of is I am ready for you guys to knock me out because I am scared to death. It is finally time and they start to wheel me out of the room and then it happened. A few tears leaked from the corner of my eyes and then there was nothing.

I am thrilled to tell you that all of my tumor was removed and I have no facial nerve damage and at the moment still have some hearing in my bad ear. My balance nerve is a bit woozy, but that is normal and one of the things I will be adjusting to few for quite a while. My 1.48 cm tumor was removed with the Retrosigmoid/sub-occipital surgical approach, which involves exposing the back of the tumor by opening the skull near the back of the head. This approach can be used for removing large tumors and offers the possibility of preserving hearing. The surgery was scheduled for 10 hours but was concluded in 5 ½! Now the process begins.

My memories of those five days in the hospital are blurred and acute depending on the day and event. I remember telling my husband on more than one occasion that this was harder than I had anticipated. In fact, I may have said it to him daily. At first they kept me pretty drugged to keep me comfortable. I have never had morphine before but when the nurse would come in and put it in my IV, I knew it. Didn’t know much after that, but I could feel it move through my body. That was weird. After a couple of days I tried to back off of some of the drugs because it just made me feel groggy and icky. I had no appetite and of course my nurses were constantly concerned about the amount of fluids going in and out of me and almost every conversation included the questions, “have you pooped today?” Leave me alone people.

Now for those of you who have been in the hospital or have had loved ones in the hospital, you know that getting a good night’s sleep is rare. I mean you can start off sleeping great, but someone has to come in every few hours and check your blood pressure, temperature and put that little clip on your finger to check your oxygen levels. I had gotten pretty good at just having my arm ready and literally sleeping through it. The last morning I was there, my 4:50 a.m. blood pressure nurse comes in and does her thing and I did mine. She leaves and as I am just dropping back to sleep she steps back in my room and she is asking me something. Well first off she is talking to me from my bad ear so I have no idea what she is saying. I turned over a little and said “what?” She repeats herself; “Since 11 p.m., how much liquid have you had to drink and have you pooped.” Now I know I just had brain surgery and I am on pain pills at night, but I’m not sure I heard her correctly. I make eye contact this time and said, “WHAT?” She repeated the question. Is she kidding me? I have been asleep since 9 p.m., and under the influence of pain meds. When would I have been up drinking and pooping? Didn’t she wake me just five minutes ago to take my blood pressure? I am sure the “tone” of my response was not very friendly, but at that moment I really didn’t care. I looked sternly at her and told her I had been asleep since 9. That was the morning I knew I needed to go home.

So this morning I begin my seventh day at home. I can tell that I still have inflammation because hearing out of either of my ears is difficult. Too many sounds at one time are difficult and become unbearable. My eyes are very sensitive to light. I exist in a constant state of wooziness with the feeling of cotton in my head. It’s a process.   I started out really well getting out a walking those first few days at home and I was beginning to think I was super woman again, then my dosage of the steroid I was being given got cut in half and my reality changed. Didn’t realize how much the steroid was boosting me. I know now. Had a bit of a setback day Saturday because of it, but it is what it is. Keith went back to work yesterday morning so it’s just me and the dogs. I am sick of TV and sick of sitting around and this is only my first week home to recuperate. Typing and reading is difficult as my ability to focus on words for very long is difficult. So much for catching up on my reading right away. I guess it’s good to remember that I’m not on vacation here. I am undertaking a very difficult job, recuperating from surgery.

The stiches come out Thursday and the following day I CAN WASH MY HAIR. Keith has been washing out my hair in the kitchen sink for me every other day or so which has helped, but I need to be able to do it myself and actually try and style it. Then my surgeon tells me that I have to wait three months to touch up my hair color. Get ready friends, we are all getting ready to see the actual color of my hair and I’m scared. Maybe you should be too.

So the process will continue and each day will be better. Taking things slow and being patient will have to become my new normal. All in all I feel pretty good and am grateful to be on the other side of it. So this holiday season will be at a slow pace in the King household and that is ok. I may get some Christmas decorations out and maybe I won’t. Maybe a tree goes up and maybe it won’t. Maybe I’ll wrap packages, maybe I won’t. But whatever I do, it will be with peace and love in my heart and a grateful attitude that I’m Ok [thanks be to God].

Peace be with you.