Brain Surgery Recovery: Eleven Weeks and Looking Good

Well, hello. It has been a little while. Here we are at eleven weeks post-brain-surgery. 

A few weeks ago, I had my eight week follow-up. The morning of, my partner and I drove to the hospital for an 8AM MRI. It was a clear, crisp fall day, with a few mud puddles in the parking lot, having rained the day before. I was pleased that it was such a nice morning. And even more pleased when I was told that the main MRI would be tied up for thirty more minutes, so let’s just go on out to the mobile MRI in a big trailer beside the hospital. Novelty!

My nurse was from England, and the irreverent, dry, but ultimately well-meaning humor that I am familiar with was appreciated. He was warm, and it helped a generally unpleasant experience be not so bad. MRIs with contrast dye are irritating, and I always get needle-stuck at least twice. It is only the most weathered, cynical phlebotomists that get me in one try. This guy stuck once, got it in, then the vein moved away and he had to pull it out… and he apologized (rare thing - many get defensive) and went and got someone else who is specifically good at poking veins. Not bad.  

So! MRI finished up, we went over to the neuroscience institute for my appointment. Doc was in emergency surgery, so we checked in and then went to pass the time in a nearby Waffle House. It was nice, actually. The waitress was funny. Then we came back and I got the update I had been waiting eight weeks for. 

Good news!

The MRI looks good. There was a part of the tumor that they couldn’t quite reach that was growing near my brainstem (yikes). It seems to have stopped growing, its blood supply cut off, and we should be okay to just monitor it. I will have another MRI in six months to see how it’s going. If I do ever need surgery again, it will be far less invasive than this one was. The fucker was big, y’all. It had grown all across the side of my head, all around the nerves and blood vessels for my eye. I am very lucky this didn’t get worse and that the nurse practitioner to whom I mentioned my symptoms followed her gut and got me that first MRI. That is all still sinking in. 

I was cleared to pick up my daughter again! And start exercising as I felt able. When I got home, I picked up my little girl for the first time in two months, and a look of wonder spread across her face. We both laughed, and she buried her face in my neck. It felt so incredibly good. And the next morning? I went for the first run I had been on since September 12th. It was slow and cautious, I took a few walk breaks on the uphills, and I went for less than two miles. And I laughed and had tears in my eyes the whole time. I missed it so. 

Physical movement is such a beautiful privilege and, for me, a mental health necessity. I am so happy to have it again. In the weeks since, I came down with a mild pneumonia (add it to the pile!), but the antibiotics finally seem to be making a difference on day 8, so I am hoping to be back to running again soon. In the meantime, I have been doing mobility work as I am able. My neck and shoulders, you can imagine, need a lot of attention. And! I did my first hike over this weekend. With husband and daughter, I walked down to a waterfall that feels like home to me (and then back up again - that’s the real test). Being able to do something like that again… I can’t even tell you how delightful it was. I was thrilled.

I was told the partial eye paralysis I’m experiencing might take a total of 6-9 months to get back to normal, based on his previous patients’ experiences. So that is the current reality. An exciting thing, though, is that just in the last couple of days, I have been experiencing increased nerve zaps (reconnecting, I assume), some face muscle twitches (annoying, but hey, nerves), reduced swelling (finally!), and my left eye has regained some mobility! It moves a little more left than it did, rests closer to neutral, and seems to be making its comeback. 

My face is starting to look like mine again.

Emotionally? Let’s see. 

I believe I have noticed a tendency to not be fully aware of an emotional reaction until after the, “here is what you have to get done,” phase of something is complete. Not to say that I did not have emotions and reactions to what had happened to me during the first eight weeks. I did. There were plenty of tears, plenty of frustrations, plenty of grateful laughs. And I had no awareness in particular that I was intentionally suppressing anything. 

And yet, after that appointment, an interesting roller coaster happened. I was elated - overjoyed - at the good news. And then a few hours later, while on a walk, an emotional crash happened. It was disorienting - what was I so upset about? Confusion, frustration, and reactivity. Upset about being upset, even. I experimented with some trauma releasing exercises (David Berceli) and shook like hell. Lord, did my body tremble. When it was done, I felt very relaxed. And then, two hours later, the emotion came loose. I wept - a lot!

Mortality! Grief! Being loved! Loving ferociously! Terror and relief! Did that seriously happen?! Etc.

These deeper feelings were suddenly able to rise up and be known, now that the initial, “just get through these eight weeks,” had come to an end. 

It is still in process. I am endeavoring to reestablish trust with my body (going both ways) and take care of what it needs. I am thinking a lot about what I want my work to look like, as I begin to resume that part of my life. I am allowing grief and gratitude to exist at once. I am quite sentimental, and tears come easily, but not in a way that I mind all that much. I am appreciating the experience of being in this body, living this life, adoring the ones who are mine to adore.

Thank you, each of you, for paying attention to this journey with me. It has meant a lot and continues to mean a lot.

So that’s the update. On we go.