Brain Surgery.

Stay caught up! Read - "My Doctors Didn't Save Me"

Brain surgery is a funny thing.

It's funny because it's hard to adequately describe the experience. No two experiences are the same, and it's hard to know what to expect. No one can really prepare you for what might happen before, during, or after surgery. Not even the doctors. But the one thing that I have found to have in common with other brain surgery survivors is this -

We all remember that day perfectly.

April 22nd, 2016. My alarm went off early that morning and along with being tired and annoyed with the ringing coming from my phone, I felt something else. I felt excited. I know that's not the emotion most people would feel the morning of brain surgery, but I really was excited. I was excited to feel better. I was excited to get relief from all my awful symptoms.

We arrived at the hospital early that morning and they immediately checked me in and took me back to one of the prep rooms. I changed into the gown and paper underwear that was provided and patiently laid on the bed while the nurses poked me multiple times in an attempt to find a good vain for my IV. I had never had surgery before, so everything was unfamiliar and fascinating, all at the same time.

We were in the pre-op room for what seemed like hours before they finally walked in to take me to surgery. As the nurses wheeled my bed out the door, I told my family I'd see them later. As my bed was being pushed down the hospital hallway, I realized I had just made a pretty big promise that I wasn't sure I could keep.

I closed my eyes as they pushed me towards the operating room to help minimize the dizziness and nausea. When the two big doors opened to the OR, I was hit with a huge, icy burst of wind. It felt like we were walking into a freezer! I was covered in a few thin blankets, but they were no match for this bitter temperature. My entire body started shivering and my skin covered itself in goosebumps.

Not only was it freezing, but the room was insanely bright. I looked at the dozens and dozens of operating tools and different sized scalpels and my heart began to race. For the first time that week, I began feeling nervous.

Luckily those nerves didn't last very long because before I knew what was happening, I had a mask placed over my nose and mouth. The nurse told me it was just oxygen, and to take a few deep breaths.

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I woke up to my hospital bed being rushed down the hallway towards the elevator and my mom screaming at me.

"KAELA!! YOU'RE OKAY!! YOU'RE OKAY!!! KAELA!!!"

Okay, they weren't actually "rushing" me. That's just what it felt like. (But my mom was definitely yelling at me.) I was so disoriented and dizzy. You know how the earth is actually spinning at an insanely fast speed but we can't feel it? Yeah. I definitely felt it that day.

I kept falling in and out of consciousness the rest of the night. After hearing my mom scream at me in the hallway, I passed out again. I woke up in a dark room in the Intensive Care Unit. Even though all the lights were off, the light shining in from the hallway was blinding, and even though the TV wasn't on and no one was talking, the steady beeping noises coming from my monitors sounded like they were trying to burst my eardrums.

My mouth was dry and my head was pounding. I felt these things wrapped around my legs that would randomly inflate and deflate. I tried opening my eyes so I could better assess my condition, but it felt like someone had super glued them shut.

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I woke up again and this time I realized there were people in my room with me. I couldn't turn my head, but I could move my eyes just enough to see my brother Dave and sister-in-law Lindsey. (They only allow two people in the ICU rooms at a time.)

"How are you feeling?" Dave asked.

"Like I just had brain surgery. Will you help me up so I can go to the bathroom?"

Dave looked confused. 

"No, Kaela. Just go back to sleep."

"I can't sleep. I have to go to the bathroom." I responded.

Dave kept telling me to just go to sleep, and I started to get upset. I didn't want to wet the bed! What was he thinking?? Why wasn't he helping me??

Apparently... no one had informed me beforehand that I was going to have a catheter. Dave and Lindsey had to explain exactly what it was and more importantly...where...it was.

After they patiently explained the situation to my anesthesia filled brain, all I said was,

"Wow. I feel violated."

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I became more aware as the day went on. I started staying awake for longer periods of time and was actually able to converse with my family and nurses a little. At one point during the day I felt conscious enough to finally examine my condition.

I reached up and touched the big bandage that covered the back of my head and neck. I ran my fingers across the bottom half of my scalp that used to be full of hair, but was now completely bald. What was left of my hair was tied in a loose bun on top of my head.

I tried turning my head side to side but it wouldn't budge. I couldn't look up or down either. My head was stuck looking forward and it seemed like it would be that way for awhile.

My right arm was tired from examining my head, so when my nose started itching, I lifted my left hand to do the job.

My fist plummeted towards my nose and I punched myself. Right in the face.

My eyes started watering and I was suddenly more awake and aware than I had been all day. I slowly brought my left hand in front of my face to check it out. I could move my fingers and everything just fine...

But I couldn't feel anything.

My left hand and arm were completely numb. At first I just thought that I'd slept on it wrong, but after a few minutes of trying to shake it out, there was no relief. And even though everything was numb, there were still nerve shocks going up and down my entire arm. I hadn't even noticed the pain until then. Besides the headache I was having, that nerve pain was some of the worst pain I have ever experienced.

My dad called the nurse in and I told him what I was feeling. He said it wasn't uncommon after a surgery like this, and my arm and hand should be feeling normal again in a few days.

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We were told that after the tumor was removed, they would send it off to be biopsied to find out if it was cancerous. The doctors said it would probably take a few weeks to get the results back, which meant a few torturous weeks wondering if I had cancer or not.

There were a lot of friends and family who were relying on social media to receive updates on how I was doing. My brother Jordan was in charge of posting on my Instagram and Facebook accounts. A few hours after surgery I asked for my phone so I could see what he had posted.

Lindsey pulled up the post on my Instagram and handed me the phone. I couldn't read a single word. My eyes were so messed up and everything was still spinning that I couldn't have read that post if my life depended on it. I handed the phone back to Lindsey and asked if she would read it to me.

She started reading,

"Kaela's surgery went really well! The tumor and cyst came out alright and Kaela is responsive and doing well. The miracle is that they did a biopsy on the tumor and it is not cancerous! Thank you all for your..."

"Wait WHAT?!" I cut Lindsey off. "I don't have cancer??"

Apparently, they immediately sent the tumor to the lab and did a biopsy right then and there. They had the results within a few hours and told my family. But APPARENTLY, no one thought it was important to tell ME. No one thought about informing THE PERSON WITH THE TUMORS that those TUMORS WERE NOT CANCEROUS.

Yes. I was very upset that I found out I didn't have cancer through a post on my own Instagram page. And yes. I was upset that I was probably the LAST person to find out, considering how many people had liked and commented on the picture already.

It was irritating at the time, but it was also pretty funny. It was nice to have something to laugh about together. 

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Later that night my nurse walked in and asked if I was ready to get up and walk. I thought he was crazy. I couldn't even move my head! How was I supposed to sit up? How was I supposed to walk?

But with the help of my nurse and two of my brothers, I did it. I sat up. I stood up. And I took about five steps to the door and five steps right back into bed where I slept comfortably the rest of the night.

I just had brain surgery a few hours before, and now I was taking ten miraculous steps. TEN. MIRACULOUS. STEPS. But I didn't do it alone. I couldn't have done it alone. I had three strong men surrounding me, holding me up. I had about eight people watching and cheering me on. I had an entire team of doctors and nurses constantly checking on me and doing everything possible to make me feel comfortable.

But I knew my biggest cheerleaders and my biggest supporters weren't the ones standing right in front of me. In fact, I couldn't even see them. But I knew they were there with me.

One of those cheerleaders was my grandma. She has been one of my constant guardian angels ever since she passed away in 2015. I knew she was watching over me and helping me through everything. She helped me take those ten steps. She helped me through the pain and uncertainty of surgery.

But my other cheerleader, and probably the biggest supporter of all, was my Heavenly Father.

Okay. I know that sounds cheesy. But honestly, without God's help, and without Christ and the Holy Ghost, I would never have made it through. I wouldn't have taken those ten miraculous steps. I wouldn't have been able to deal with the pain coming from my head and my arm.

I would later realize how much support and strength can actually come from God. And trust me, I was going to need it. 

💗 / Mickey