Neither did I know Eleanor was taking notes on what the physicians were reporting to her in private about my condition.
Tuesday – Dr. Dial
Risk of surgery– Greater this time than for the first brain tumor due to location and scarred tissue. Risk is damage to right side, anywhere from paralysis to poor muscle tone.
Lengthy surgery– Getting to it is easy. Excising it is hard. Surgery will be a lot longer. The longer it is the more chance of problems. Tumor is in the skull. Will require plate on whole left hemisphere. More concerned than at first. Probably after surgery will have speech and motor problems. He expects this.
Seizures– Frontal-temporal meningioma might cause seizures.
Tuesday afternoon– Dr. Paysinger
Expects speech problem and weakness or paralysis after surgery. Said Mama might not make it through the surgery. About 15% chance of speech and/or motor problem will be permanent. Probably plate on most of left hemisphere. He will operate Thursday morning.
It was thought I would be in the hospital for about a week, like with the first brain tumor, so plans were being made for Julie to come with her ten months old baby boy, Lane, when I got home from the hospital and stay with me while I was getting my strength back. I expected nothing but that my recovery would be like that of my first tumor… quick and complete.
I had asked my daughter, Sally, who is a registered nurse, to please come st ay with me the night before I was to have my surgery. I thought I might need her in the nurse capacity but I knew for sure I would need her for support. She and I slept very well that night until the hall nurse came in and woke us up about 5 AM Thursday morning to “get up and start getting into the surgical gown in order to be ready for surgery”. I wanted so badly to have my little cross, that I had been carrying in my wallet for years, to be somewhere on my person during the surgery… but where could we hide it? I had been stripped of all jewelry and was jut about naked in that scrimpy little, split-down-the-back, short, no-modesty-at-all, surgical gown. Sally and I looked at me. Then we looked at each other. And then she made a real good suggestion… so, when the hall nurse came back about 6 o’clock to see if we were ready, my little cross was hidden, securely tucked long ways under my hospital bracelet and hardly even showed.
I, having already been sedated, was no sooner rolled out of the room on a stretcher than I was fast asleep. I didn’t know anything after that, not even when somebody shaved my head for the operation.