It’s Not Brain Surgery
Today, March 17, 2024, is the one year anniversary of my first DBS surgery. Yes, it was on St. Patrick’s Day 2023 that they drilled holes in my skull and inserted wires into my brain. I wore my green Boston Red Sox jersey that I bought specifically for the surgery, good luck, and the Boston Red Sox. The Red Sox ended their year with one of the worst records in baseball. I wasn’t relying on luck for my surgery. It seemed too important to leave it up to luck. Because of my surgeon’s experience, and the medical team with whom he was working, I knew science and experience would reign over luck that day. So, I went into surgery one year ago, feeling pretty confident, quite a bit scared, and trying to convince myself that this was just another adventure – not brain surgery!
I have written here, and hope to do so for a long time, that the results of the DBS have been very beneficial to my quality of life, but I haven’t shared anything about the hours before surgery. So here it goes:
When I walked in to the lobby of the surgical center there was a sculpture of a giant party hat by a world renowned artist. It seemed a little presumptuous, but I guess it could also be a sign of their confidence and desire to make the surgical experience one big party. Either way, I just hoped that they spent as much money on the surgical equipment as they did on that sculpture.
The nurse who took me back to prep me for surgery seemed friendly and caring all the way to the curtain lined room. Once there she showed her true color. I asked her everything from “Will this hurt?“ To “Do you have to put in a catheter?” She laughed at every one of my questions. I didn’t think they were funny. I mean, have you ever had a Foley catheter put in? I asked her why she was laughing, and she said I was asking all the same questions that everyone asked no matter what type of surgery. Trying to be respectful and clever I asked, “Are you married?” She pointed to a ringless hand and said, “You figure it out. It’s not brain surgery.” Then she answered me that I did not have to have a catheter for this surgery to which I replied, “Marry me?” She laughed.
My adult daughter and my more adult sister were both there with me for support while the parade of the surgical team members came and went. They were all very nice and very positive, Oh, and they were all very young. Not that I don’t trust young surgical team members like I don’t trust young dentists, but the closer they are to when they used to watch Paw Patrol, I have to wonder. It was a huge relief when my surgeon came in. I knew he was old enough that he did not know what a Teletubby was, and Barney was his college roommate’s name. He asked, “Are you ready?” And I said “let’s do this!” And we did.
“It’s a party!!” St. Patrick’s Day 2023