We know now that although we all want Timmy 100% gone, it is impossible for the Docs to completely evict him due to his location but with the days drawing in before the eviction date we still live and hope for the best possible outcome.
Quick spoiler alert, I’m writing this blog one week post-op so I survived the worst of it, in this blog I’m going to talk about the day leading to the operation, what I can remember of the operation itself and the days after.
So a few days before T-Day I started getting all siezury again, getting what they call focal aware seizures. They’d start off like auras, tingling down my left arm legs and pins and needles in my hands and feet followed by nose being filled with air and a rush of panic. I was awake for the seizures and felt mostly like I was trapped in a small room but couldn’t escape. I was having about 3-4 per day and 1 through the night. I called ahead and the doctors upped my Keppra dose to 1000mgs twice per day.
In the days leading to the Op, I also had my COVID swab tests….which weren’t fun. They shoved a six inch stick down my throat and up my nose….abuse I haven’t felt since I was a teenager.
I also started taking steroids a few nights before the operation….which do not help with sleep. I mean I was prepared for a sleepless night of worry about brain surgery….not for weird dreams and an overactive mind. In my sleepless nights before the operation I managed to solve the worlds racism problems and confuse myself into thinking I needed to break all my tablets and dry them out before I went to the hospital and when Sarah refused to help at 3am I was furious….how dare she not join me in my grinding up my drugs. In the 2nd night, I dreamt I was attached to a rope and couldn’t get comfy because the rope kept pulling me away from the bed.
The day before the operation I was certainly starting to feel the fear, I was starting to get lots of calls and video chats of people wanting to look into my beautiful sapphire eyes for one last time and everything started to get real. Bag packed, tablets taken. I even started to get nervous hiccups the night before which was very strange.
T-Day 30th June
Here we go, Sarah and Sophie drove me into LGI at 6:30am and I was in the waiting area for 7am. I was brought it quickly and sat down with some healthcare’s and some of the neuroteam who drew on my head and went throught the risks of surgery again with me….death etc….exactly what you want to do before handing over full power to them. I was also concerned that one of the doctors who was going to be cutting me up had shaved his hair the night before and had made right bloody shit show of it….all I was thinking, this fella better me more careful with a scalpel than he is with his Braun trimmer.
I had a few last minute tests with the occupational therapy teams to understand a baseline of intelligence to compare after they fiddled with the main intel unit. After about 30 mins I was walked down to theatre where it all started to become very real…..I suddenly got that ooooooo fuck feeling what is about to happen…I wondered when it would hit and 5 mins before it hit like a bloody train….if I hadn’t have been wearing a gown and birkenstocks and my physical form didn’t resemble a baby hippopotomous I might have run away…but it my current state, I think the 40 year old nurse would have caught me within moments of my desertion.
With IVs at the ready I lay down with my anethetist by my side readying my concoction. He lightened the mood by telling me he was in charge of sorting me out if I needed a wee during the operation…a job he was clearly chuffed to have, but with his magnifiying glass at hand he was clearly taking it seriously after getting an early glance of Sargent Winkleson.
Next, thing I know, I’m counting back from 10 and I’m out and about 2 hours later I’m rudely woken with people around me shining lights in my eyes. Not much pain but very uncomfy and to move me into a better position the surgeon carefully manoeuvred my head…this wasn’t pleasant. Imagine your skull being clamped with screws and you can feel the screws grinding into your head. Again, not painful, just not nice.
When I was comfortable, they began mapping the brain with the seismic-vibration machine. It sounded like the thing dentists use to suck/blow blood about in your mouth. During this the speech therapist had me describing pictures like “this is lion, he’s saying ROAR”…they found the speech are pretty quickly as I couldn’t say a few basic sentences pretty early on. The physio in the room had me playing with a credit card between my fingers like a poker champion and gave me gentle slap on the hand everytime I stopped.
The operation went quickly and soon enough I was hitting thr 5 hour mark and starting to tire…I could tell I was getting tired as the number of hand slaps was increasing and my face was getting more droopy.
I renamed the anaesthetist/experienced snake handler from Steven to StWeevan much to his amusement….think it got a few giggles in the op room but I was under a lot of drugs so wasn’t my finest hour.
Then they announced it was over and I was put back to sleep and stitched up…waking up a few later to my new look.
Now, for those who haven’t actually met me before, in the looks department I’m a solid 9…chissled jaw like a Greek god, perfectly symmetrical face….when I woke up and shown my new face I now looked like the spawn of a great hammerhead shark that has mated with Sloth from the Goonies that had been sit on my an elephant and gone 10 rounds with Mike Tyson….I still have personality and wit to pull it off but not ideal.
So, how did I feel? This was the most common question I woke up to….to be honest, I didn’t feel as bad as I thought I would, I felt like I was on my worst ever hangover, I wanted a Domino’s pizza but was left with mushroom soup and the whitest of bread loaves you’ve ever seen along with a very questionable side salad. Also, because of my massive black eye and swelling, I couldn’t see out of my right eye which made walking tricky as all my depth perception was skew-whiff. An unexpected sensation was the pressure in my head. Every time I moved it felt like bubbles were leaving my nose. Remember when your dad threw a 200 pesata coin into the deep end of the pool and you and your holiday buddies all jumped in to get it….not knowing then it was like £1.80….well that feeling you get when you get that little too deep and start to panic. It’s that feeling, everytime I moved my face.
So, after being poked and proded I was ready to be sent home….but not before Justin, the aged Scouse healthcare who gave my testicles and armpits a good clean….thanks, fella…it was a beautiful and delicate moment we shared and I’ll never forget it….Not ever!
The occupational therapist team made me make beans on toast before I was given the all clear to go home.
The surgeon came to see me before I left and although he didn’t have any formal results to give me from the biopsy he said he’d got over 50% of Timmy out along with the more sinister looking part so overall it looks like it was a success. Keeping with the eviction metaphor, I like to think Timmy in person has gone along with his stench from the old cheesy wotsits he was eating on the sofa while watching endless porn. All what’s left is an ikea coffee table and a basic cutely set.
Now I’ve been home for a week I’m starting to feel much more like myself, just very tired and can’t even get through 30 minutes of a movie without falling asleep. I’ve managed to wash my hair and Sarah has helped me out in a few shower scenarios. Although, her rough washing motions made me long for that gentle scouse touch #missyouJustin
So, I’m starting to get better and recovering more and more each day with the help of Magnums and lots of sleep. Excited for my 2 weeks of quarantine volume 2 to be over and done with and I can start seeing family and friends again!
I’ll be in touch soon, ideally with positive news on the biopsy and next steps.