back at it

I went back into the hospital on Monday after I woke up and realized my wound was leaking (ewwww, sorry), a certified Bad Sign. My mom called the doctor and told us to come to the ER, where he would meet us. Part of me was hoping that they'd give me some antibiotics and I'd be free to go, but I was fairly certain that that wouldn't be the case.

In short, they ran a CT, collected some of the fluid, and told me they were admitting me. I was supposed to start back at work on Tuesday, so this was kind of a bummer, to say the least. They also wouldn't let me eat or drink anything since they weren't sure what they were going to do with me, which left me pretty miserable (as many can attest, I don't do well without food). That night, they informed me that my ventricles were back to being severely enlarged and that they would be putting in a shunt the next day. Who likes brain surgery? Not me.

They had tried to avoid the shunt from the get-go, since they have a tendency to get infected/malfunction. The doctors were hopeful that my brain would naturally adjust and figure out where to send my cerebral spinal fluid all on its own. Alas, it did not, so they put in a peritoneal ventricular shunt on Tuesday afternoon. A lot of people (well...relatively speaking) have shunts, so it's a pretty short procedure. And Dr. Lam, my beloved neurosurgeon, has spent much of his career inventing the devices, so I was pretty confident in his abilities.

The surgery went well, and they ended up exploring the infected area, too. The concern was obviously that the infection would spread to my brain, which would clearly not be good. As I later found out, they secured that pesky loose bone in the back with a couple of titanium rods and made the incision "water tight." Yeah, thanks. On Wednesday, they inserted a PICC line, which is basically an IV that leads to my heart (whoa!). It can stay in for a long time, meaning I can administer the antibiotics I need at home. The whole insertion process was not so fun, but at least I don't have to be poked all the time, since I'll need these meds for another two weeks.

Being in the hospital was different this time. I was definitely waaaaay less nervous about the surgery, but I also wasn't in the "I can't believe this is happening" camp anymore. I guess I was more annoyed than anything else--I had finally reached a point in my initial recovery where I was comfortable with my independence and able to successfully leave my house, walk around, etc. etc. I was feeling more normal than I had in a long time. This surgery definitely doesn't take me back to the beginning, but it's frustrating to be so dependent upon other people again. I was ready to have my life back. I still will, it's just going to take a little longer.

The other frustrating part is that, before the shunt surgery, I was kind of able to just leave this whole brain tumor experience in the past. Yes, it was scary and life-changing and all of that, but it was out, it was benign, and I was fine. Now, this shunt is going to be part of my life forever. It might need to be replaced at some point (it also might not...some people have them for decades without a problem). As the doctors told me this week, I will always need to be very careful when I get sick. If I get an infection anywhere in my body, it could spread to the shunt, and an infected shunt is a useless shunt.

For now, I'm just hanging out with my antibiotics, laying low, and willing my hair to grow (I'm back to bald). I get my staples out next week, stitches out the following week (yes, they used both...), and I also have to go see an infectious disease specialist. Sounds...ominous. Let's just hope these meds work, and I can be back on my feet--for real this time--in a few weeks.