Observations from a Hospital Bed

Here is the story of my recent brain biopsy, for your amusement.

I arrived at the hospital at 6:00 AM on Wednesday, December 26, 2007. I was lucky to have an early scheduled procedure, as you can’t eat or drink anything after 12:00 AM the previous night. So, the earlier the better, lest the hunger pains and the thirst bug sneak up on you.

First, I was escorted into the pre and post surgery waiting area to get ready for the big event. I was told to change into the following; hospital gown, anti-clot leggings, and nothing else. So, I’m wearing a dress, thigh high stockings, and no underwear. Am I prepping for surgery or something a little more sinister? Or is Candid Camera around the corner?

Then the nurse returned to insert the IV. She shaved off some hair on my arm to do it. I’m thinking to myself, ‘Don’t do that! I already have hairy arms, and the hair is going to come back even thicker. I’ll have a wolfman patch. Great!’

Soon it is time for me to be rolled down to the basement for my pre-surgery MRI. When I arrive, the doctor, his two assistants, and the anesthesiologist were waiting for me. First, I asked for some jokes. I don’t remember the jokes, but I do remember that the doctor and the anesthesiologist had a few good ones.

Then the doctor described that he had to place a heavy, metal frame on my head. The frame would make it difficult for me to keep my head up, and would be somewhat painful. Oh yes, and it had to be secured tightly to my head because it was important that it did not move during either the MRI or surgery, as the frame is used as a guide to determine where to cut into my head.

So, I decided to treat the frame as a king’s crown. As the doctor and an assistant carefully placed the frame on my head, I gave an inspired acceptance speech, promising to lead the kingdom to great prosperity. When the doctor discussed how heavy it was, I explained how the great responsibility of leading my vast minions could be a terrible weight to bear, if not handled properly. I thanked my loyal servants for their dedication and devotion in preparing a low key, early morning, coronation ceremony. I’d rather not make a big fuss.

Then the doctor broke out the big needles. My anesthesiologist was kind enough to explain to me that she was not allowed to give me the normal sedation because they needed me sharp and responsive, so that the doctor could easily determine that nothing inappropriate happened during the brain biopsy.

So, instead, the doc was going to inject me with something to numb up my skull around where my crown rested to help with the pain. Hence the needles. And, to help me get through the pain of sticking two needles into my forehead and two needles into the back of my head, I got to…squeeze the fingers of the anesthesiologist. Huh?!? How is that going to help?

I managed to get through the 6 needles (2 extra because the left side of my head seemed to need more numbing agent) without breaking any of the anesthesiologist’s fingers, so we were all happy.

Then I was wheeled into the MRI room, and they used another metal bar to lock me into an immovable position. As I was pushed into my little cubby hole for the 25 minute MRI, I exclaimed that this was no way to treat their new king! No promotions or land deeds for you!

The MRI was long, loud, and repetitive, but otherwise OK. I then got to hang out in a prep area for about 30 minutes while the doctor did his calculations based on the MRI so he knew where to drill. I hope he did well in his math classes.

I was then wheeled into the surgery room and knocked out for about an hour. When I woke up, I was asked to go through my tests to ensure that everything was OK. This involved winking with my left eye, smiling, scrunching my face, and touching my left thumb to each left finger.

I was then wisked off to the post surgery area, where I intermittently stared blankly at the ceiling and slept. As the numbing agent starting to wear off, the pain in my head started to grow and the doctor decided to keep me overnight.

I had a fun overnight hospital stay. And when I say fun, I mean a splitting headache that Vicodin, then 2 milligrams of morphine and then 4 milligrams of morphine couldn’t help. And top it all off in the morning with a re-gifting of the previous evening’s dinner. This did not really seem fair, as the hospital food wasn’t that tasty going down, but much better than coming up.

But how else would you define fun!

I made it home Thursday evening with a big white patch taped to the right side of my head. Stitches come out in a few weeks. I also have two holes in my forehead and two in the back of my head. If the forehead holes last until October, they will make it easy for me to screw in those devil horns I was thinking of getting for Halloween.

As for the holes in the back of my head, I was thinking of going to the mall to one of those carts that sell hair extensions to buy a mullet that I could screw into the holes. Then I would start asking people to call me Billy Ray. Then I would get Lucy a guitar and tell her to start singing. Then we would hit the touring circuit and make millions and be, like, so popular.

How cool would that be?

Unfortunately, as I was leaving the hospital, the doctor confirmed that the biopsy was cancer. Stereotactic radiation and biochemotherapy are up next.