So, for a few hours, I laid in bed, in a coma, with a "stick" hanging out of my head. Within a few hours, as Dr. Weiner suspected, I had a seond bleed on my brain. The permission from my mom happened all over again. Again, prayers were said. Again, my sister in law and her mom said that things werent right. They had believed fully now that I had to stay alive. And again, my mom had to make that life changing decision, to let me live or let me die.
Dr. Weiner performed the second surgery. This time, the incision was larger. He had to open a larger portion of my skull to get to the bleed. Several hours later, with more plates and screws put into my skull, Dr. Weiner closed it all up and sent me back to recovery. All of this done in the wee hours of the night.
I want to post the only picture taken of me that night. I hope, as a means to show everyone how far I'd come. I pray this is a reality to everyone/anyone who reads this....
The following morning, Dr. Weiner went into my room, along with my mother and father. After doing some routine examinations, doing some routine tests, he looked at my mom and said "She'll be back to normal in no time!" That statement right there left my mom thinking "Oh God, please tell me I did the right thing!"
I stayed in a coma for several days, to let the incisions heal a bit, to eventually have the staples removed. (Remember, so far, all was told to me by my parents, and my brother and his wife)
My mom, being an occupational therapist, has 20 years of working with stroke patients, as well as people with brain injuries. When I could speak, she started asking me questions, checking my memory. One of the first things she had me do was to show me pictures of family members, checking if I'd remember anyone. The first picture was of my son. She told me I said his name, and immediately asked if he was okay. Deep inside, I still cared deeply for my son. She gave me a pen, and I attempted to write his name of the back of the picture. But, per her words, my writing was tragic, she feared I'd lost my entire right side of my body.
A few nights later, my brother and his wife wanted to give my mom a break, so they offered to stay the night with me, allowing her time to go home and recuporate.
My brother and his wife barely slept that night. There I was, constantly trying to get out of bed, begging for Robert to give me a cigarette. I even went as far as to watch him until I thought he was sleeping. My memory tells me I tried to get up, to sneak a cigarette from him. But...if I succeeded in that part, how on earth was I going outside to smoke it?? With IVs hooked everywhere, bed alarms to monitor if I got up, and heart monitors to check my heart rate, let alone the pathetic walking I attempted, I had no chance.
Eventually, I'd sat up and shocked my brother and Brandy. I was angry at him, and demanded to know "how did you get your wife pregnant??" (That night I was told to by my brother and Brandy) Brandy and Robert simply laughed together! Brandy told me that that night, she asked Robert "wouldnt that be insane?" Afterwards, I simply went to sleep. My night of horror was done.
Going forward a few days, I had therapy to get my right side moving again. My mom was there constantly thru it all. Most of the time, she did more therapy on me than the hospital therapists could think of doing. A day or so later, I had an appointment for a swallow test. A nurse had come in, who said she knew me from my dad's work. All I remember of that day was her telling me she wouldnt leave my side, and that I miserably failed the test. Everything they gave me, I choked on. Once again, doctors had my mom sign permission forms to insert a feeding tube into my stomach, to keep me norished.
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