Somehow, surgery seemed like a breeze but this not talk stuff was hard and post OP until now (I don’t know what time “now” was but I afternoonish) seemed like a life time. Once I was settled the nurses started to disappear but one remained, and would be the lucky nurse who pick the short straw; she was my one on one nurse in ICU. She was tucking me in when I saw my dad’s head and peeking inside the door and my mom was right behind him. The nurse turned around and introduced herself as Maria and explains what she go in report and explained to them that I couldn’t talk but I seem all there. She looked at me and asked if I knew who these people. I smile the best that I could and gave her thumbs up. She put her hands on my dad’s shoulder and asked me if this was my mom (the tests goes on) I gave her thumbs down and tried to sign dad but I don’t think it worked or she couldn’t read it. At this point who knows? She then put her other hand on my mom’s shoulder and said is this your mom? I smiled and gave her thumbs up.
Maria talked to us about some of the things in the room. She pointed to a camera straight in front me that was hanging from the ceiling. She told me if you hear people talking to you though that…you’re not crazy. She explained that it was a high tech camera. There were doctors who sit in a monitor room and observe behavior and they can check you pupils from that camera. I guess this special camera has saved so lives. If that was the case, it was ok with me. Even if that wasn’t the case I think it would be cool to have somebody to talk to at night. If I was a doctor I could have fun with this. Maria went on explaining other things but nothing as a cool as the camera. It was like the usual things, blood pressure, nuero checks, every hour, I could not have food or water until my swallow study the next day, and policy only allows 2 or 3 people in the room at a time and quiet hours were 7-8:30 am and pm so the visitors don’t interfere with bed side report. I HATED quiet hours!! It was just time to lay there awake and think about what just happened and scared of what might come. The first day really wasn’t bad. I was in and out of sleep when there weren’t familiar faces popping in two or three at a time. A face that I distinctly remember was my sisters, Quirsten’s her husband was right by her side. Quirsten and I we are 14 months apart in age. My mom always dressed us like twins, one was purple and the other was pink. We packed her apartment up so she could move up to Chicago with her now husband just before we found the tumor. Because she started a new nursing job up there she was not able to come home as often. I remember at that moment I wanted more than anything for everybody to just leave and her to sit and cry with me. I don’t remember what happened next. When I woke up there was nobody. I looked at the clock and couldn’t even register what time it was.
Quirsten and I dressed like twins... you cant see them but those are indeed skate on our feet ;) I was born for derby....maybe not