One of the specialists we saw last week was looking over the notes about my stroke and said, "I see you had a craniotomy."
I know that I had brain surgery, but I didn't realize that it's called a craniotomy. The image that comes to mind for me is a slightly unbalanced Victorian surgeon, indulging his curiosity by drilling holes willy-nilly in his patient's skull (apologies to the fabulous Dr. Tierney).
I'm sure this procedure has come a long way since the Victorian times, especially at MGH. Still, I'm glad that I wasn't awake during the operation.
When I came to, I first thought that the nightmare happened again: another stroke. Fortunately, it was only a blip. But the anti-seizure meds have been slowing me down, and I'm still not back to normal.
Now our plans are up in the air. We thought that I could handle caring for the kids, but we're not so sure now. We think A could handle calling 911 if I had another seizure, but it's a lot to ask a 8-year-old.
On February 2, 2010, I had a stroke. I was 45. The origins of my brain hemorrhage are a mystery. I have two children, who were 4 and 7 at the time, a wonderful husband, and a great nuclear and extended family. Some say I was a little happier after my stroke. Having a stroke is no fun, but the parade of family and friends has kept me going.