(Hospital)ity

Truth be told, I've been home from the hospital for about a week, but you'll have to excuse my slack.  Between the combination of painkillers and narcotics I've been prescribed, and the fact that I just had brain surgery, it's been difficult for me to keep my eyes open long enough to write more than a few words at a time. But, here I am now to give you the glamourous insider edition of what my experience in the hospital was like. 

As you can imagine, being in the hospital for an extended period of time (or any time at all, actually) is less than pleasant, but I can honestly say, with a few minor exceptions, that my surgeon and his team, my nurses, and the rest of the crew that helped me out during my stay made my time bearable.

Firstly, going into the O.R. and finding out that my head Anesthetist had an Austrian accent and sounded just like Arnie almost made me fist pump from my stretcher, and (not a word of a lie) the last thing I remember before being put to sleep was him saying in that accent, "it's not a tumour" (refer to the video clip from Kindergarten Cop in my first blog).
Next came waking up in the recovery room.  If you've never had surgery, it feels just like a scene from Grey's Anatomy (unfortunately the doctors don't all look like McDreamy); I open my eyes for the first time to see the entire medical team looking down on me, I'm overwhelmed with questions being thrown at me to make sure they didn't hit the wrong parts of the brain while they were in there, and my throat is so dry from the breathing tube they had down it that I could probably drink a small lake. They told me to relax, but relaxing just isn't in my nature, plus I had just been out for the last 5 hours while they poked and prodded at my brain, I really had no idea what was going on or what was going to happen next; so naturally, I chimed in on the nurses' conversation about their upcoming vacation to Jamaica, seeing as I had been there and thought I could shed some light on where to go and what to do...now I realize that my own lights were hardly even turned on...

The best part of being in the hospital was probably the VIP treatment (though far from a five star hotel). They feed you, they clothe you, they hydrate you, they provide you with bathroom facilities, and they make sure you're bathed. That being said, the food tastes like cardboard, the clothes are far from designer, your hydration is provided to you via IV, the bathroom consisted of an uncomfortable bag that gets changed every so often (I'll spare you the details), and the baths you get are of the sponge variety requiring you to stay in your bed and remove your gown while a total stranger slops an excessive amount soap on every inch of your body your and dries its all off at the end.  To some, never leaving your bed and being waited on hand and foot sounds like THE life, but I doubt this is what they have in mind. 

The Neuro ward is a small wing of the hospital that cares for anyone who has recently had brain or spinal surgery (or who is awaiting brain or spinal surgery).  Many of their patients are much worse off than myself so the fact that I was young, that my tumour was benign, that both sides of my body were still moving in tandem, and that I was walking on my own, seemed to be a great relief for the care team (even if I was walking like a newborn giraffe).  Without gloating, for once in my life, I can say that I was by far the lowest maintenance one of the bunch (I know...can you possibly imagine??).  

During my stay in the Neuro ward (5 days), I occupied three different rooms (4 if you count the time I spent on my bed in the hallway waiting for my next room to be ready), and had the amusement, nay, the delight of sharing these rooms with a number of "roommates".  Let me just clear the air, when I say roommates, I don't mean the kind you choose to live with in college, or the fun kind that are assigned to your cabin at summer camp...these are the ones that make you look forward to moving out! One man wandered into other rooms at night so the nurses would have to yell at him, "George, you can't go in there", and put signs on the ward doors that read: Keep Doors Closer: Wandering Patient., one seemed nice, until her husband came in and complained that my visitors and I were TOO LOUD!, the same one was later examined by the infectious disease unit, which is comforting when you're living in close quarters, and last but certainly not least, one was quiet by day but turned into The Great Flatulator by night, and I'll tell you, he was not intending to help me get a restful sleep. 

As I mentioned already, I had some really good nurses, and I cannot voice my respect for people that have the patience to do the job that they do, but they sure help to make the experience, errr...entertaining?. My first night, I had a male nurse that was timid to remove my bandages, always asked me "is this okay" when referring to the dosage of my painkillers (If I knew what was okay, I would be the nurse!), and he always made sure I was in good supply of "lip gloss" (he meant chapstick, assuming my lips were dry from dehydration).  A few nights later I lie awake in my bed listening to a group of young nurses outside my door, in between tending to patients, discussing the trivial matter of why Justin Bieber and Amanda Bynes went crazy, but Ryan Gosling did not, even though he, too, was a child star. Solution: more young celebrities just need to start using Ryan Gosling as a role model... 

Overall, I was treated very well while I was in the hospital, I'm not too deeply scarred by the experience, my tumour was COMPLETELY removed, and my recovery is on the fast track :) I am truly, truly blessed!! 

In risk of sounding like a broken record, I have to acknowledge the support I was shown while at the hospital: the friends and family that came to visit, the phone calls, emails, and social media posts, and the people that sent flowers, cards and/or gifts.  

I can't leave you all for the night without some sort of inspiration, so, nothing seemed more appropriate than for my alter-ego (2-Janez) to quote my brother Mike, quoting the Wu-Tang Clan: 

"Ain't nothin' but a G thang baby!"