The Op

The week leading up to my operation I was frightened to death. I had two fits prior to the op, probably brought on by sheer fear. I just stayed on the sofa for the last week and just hoped I wouldn't have another seizure. I know that sounds incredibly weak and cowardly and selfish but that's how I coped with it all or didn't cope. I was terrified that Kerry would not see her mummy again, how would she survive without a mummy? Not being able to hug and kiss and love my little girl ever again made me so incredibly sad.
Anyway, to the day of my op now and it was all so weird. I waved goodbye to my mum and dad and to Kerry who she being looked after by and drove off with my husband Andrew. We arrived at Hurstwood Park at 2 o'clock. And sat around for a couple of hours whilst they got me organised a room. I had one final MRI and CT scan for usage in my surgery the next morning. I then saw a nice man, a Registrar who took me into a side room and described to me the risks of surgery and then I signed my life away. That evening I found that although I had ordered some food I had no appetite and could not eat a thing. I then said goodbye to Andrew and he was gone. I was alone, it was just me now against the world. I was determined from that point on that I was just going to get on with it.
I took a couple of sleeping pills or whatever they were I really didn't care and went to bed. I got up early the next day and peeped through the curtains the sun was rising and I felt calm. Whatever will be will be I thought. However, when they came for me at 9 am I felt shit this is really happening, too late to escape now! I held onto Andrew and Kerry's photo taken on the Carousel on Brighton's Palace Pier nicer days I thought than what was happening to me now, how can anything be more scarier than Brain surgery. They gave me a shot of something and I was immediately gone into a world of nothingness.

Meeting Mr C

I met my Neurosurgeon for the first time back in the Spring of 2005. For the purpose of this blog I will refer to him as Mr C. I have since met him several times. However, the first time was a very solemn affair. Holding onto my husbands hand tightly and my daughter in the pushchair being very quiet. My mum and my dad there too, so many people in the room, I really had so much support. Looking at the scan the tumour looked very big to me, it was about 3 centimetres long. We all decided that the best thing to do was to watch and wait as it is called. Mr C said that it was probably a low grade tumour as its boundaries were clearly defined and arranged for me to have another scan in 6 months. That scan showed no change and continued to show no changes until October 2007. Then the decision I knew that I would eventually have to make finally had arrived. I was now in Mr C's more than capable hands.

Got to get through this

It's now 7 months on from surgery and although physically feeling better I have been suffering emotionally. I am feeling much better than I did 10 weeks ago when I found my lowest ebb. However, I am now on medication ( Citalopram)for my anxiety and low mood. I have been to the doc's this week to have my dose put up to 30mg. If I can get through the surgery I can get through this. You will probably think me ungrateful, for everything I've been through why can't I be happy but I'm going to get better.