What a journey. And I am so very glad that it looks like it is almost over.
We started back at the end of January with what looked like an aneurysm. With a stay in the ICU for 2 weeks. Plus a few extra days in the hospital. And when they sent us home, we still really didn't know what caused the bleed in Michael's head.
Our first day home from the hospital sent us back to the emergency room with what might have been a seizure. Because in their hurry to send us home, no one gave us an anti-seizure medication.
The next few weeks Michael spent hanging out around the house. And then we finally got into the rehab program. And he started a month's worth of cognitive therapy. The bleed was in the part of the brain that is in charge of organization and categorization. So remembering a simple three or four item list is difficult if not impossible. But during therapy they worked on it...and worked on skills that he can use to get around some of his short term memory issues. And now he has graduated from that program.
And then finally. Where I left you two weeks ago.
We finally got a diagnosis. A fistula. And they scheduled surgery for last Wednesday. (And yes. elective surgery. Doesn't mean that insurance won't cover it. It just means it's scheduled. And not an emergency. However my insurance company is balking over the cognitive therapy. Idiots.)
So, Michael did the pre-op appointment. And we arrived at 8:30 am last Wednesday for surgery. Where we were promptly asked these questions: "What are you doing here? Didn't you get the message that the surgery has been rescheduled?" Um. No. No one left us a message. Called. Faxed. Smoke signals. Nothing.
We found out that our appointment had been moved to Friday at 5:30 am. AM?! Yep. In the morning. And we also found out that the scheduler at the neurosurgeon's office is in a bit of hot water for not getting a chance to call us.
Friday morning. That alarm going off at 3:50 am was quite unpleasant. But we were at the hospital - and at the waiting room - at 5:30. But apparently none of the staff were there yet. They did not show up until 6 am. And we were not called back to prep until almost 7. Oh, that hour more of sleep would have a really good option.
At 10am, Michael's surgeon came out to tell me that his part was done...it had all gone well...and that I should be able to see him around noon.
By 2pm, he was in his room in the ICU...catching up with the nurses from our last stay. He was awake. Alert. Joking around. Here he is with his bandages and the drain in his head. He wanted me to be sure to get pictures this time.
When the doctor finally pulled off the bandages, and I was able to get a good look at his staples. I realized that no one bothered to clean him up. All the blood that ran during surgery - still there. All on his scalp. Making his hair crispy in parts. There were huge dried pieces of blood stuck to his hair and to his scalp. It was gross. And we couldn't wash it because the staples can't get wet. I tried to clean some of it with a washcloth...but it really was not doing the job.
Michael was in the ICU for less than 24 hours. And he was discharged from the hospital on Monday. Not quite four days of time.
After we got home, Michael took great pleasure in grossing out the girls with his head.The girls were grossed out by the blood and staples. Me. Well...the hair cut leaves little to be desired.
So...we thought we should really even things up. Shave it all off. And get some one to wash his scalp.
And now. The staples. All 44 of them come out next Thursday. No more therapies needed. And he can go back to work the following week. The problem solved. And it is not a problem that will come back. Hallelujah. Amen.
So...what about you? Have you ever had a disaster of a haircut? If this had happened to you...would you have shaved your head? Have you ever had staples or stitches?