Luckiest bitch alive award goes to meeeeeeeee
Word up, my peeps. For once I have an excuse for my absence.
First, I was sick and spent two weeks in the hospital. I was bleeding from the brain. I stopped. Ten days later I was back in the hospital, and worse.
I had emergency brain surgery. This was last Monday.
On brain bleeds, and home stuffs.
by Sabina Daisy Moreno on Tuesday, August 17, 2010 at 1:24am
So! For those of you who haven't tuned in recently, I just spent two weeks in the hospital because I had a cerebral hemorrhage.
"You'll drive yourself crazy googling," my neurosurgeon told me, so I haven't.
It is my general understanding, however, that often people die, or are paralyzed, or end up in comas.
I started at Sacred Heart in Pensacola, then was moved (via six hour ambulance) to the Neuro ICU at Shands in Gainesville. There I was the second patient to receive "shower privilege" in three years. It wasn't until later that I realized that it's very quiet in the Neuro ICU. That is: the patients there are largely unconscious.
So I am very lucky.
My boyfriend--Z to some, Ziggy to others--has been beyond amazing. Every night that he could stay with me, he did--so all nights save one. I can't even begin to express how his family has taken care of me throughout the whole ordeal. They are a dream.
I'm back home, though I'm still puking. I'll need physical therapy for a while, and still need help walking. It isn't like this ends at two weeks and I get to resume my life. It's not that at all, and I need to remind myself of that--as impossible as forgetting it seems. I got sick right before finals, and so I didn't finish the semester. Life as I knew it is on hold for a while.
In the best moments, I feel like there is a box on my head and I am on a boat. Perhaps this is fitting, considering my penchant for ocean symbolism. Also, half my face is numb. It even took my tongue, but it gave back half of it.
So that's that, friends. Oh, and I have a brain tumor. Details!
Anyway, I shall rise from this pool of saline foam and IV drips. I will get off this calm shell, for it is a poor boat.
I shall write a concept album about the experience.
I'm serious.
Anyway! Good night, friends. I am shaking again, which is a sign that my taxed vestibular system is throwing in the towel for the day. Good night, good night. I will probably be off the internet for a while now that I've updated. Good night.
Thanks to everyone who has expressed their support, offered their prayers, or thought good thoughts. I appreciate it deeply.
People were very nice. Unfortunately, I felt too sick to respond and promptly ended up back in the ER. Then the OR.
HIGH RISK NEUROSURGERY
by Sabina Daisy Moreno on Thursday, September 9, 2010 at 3:41pm
Your note has been created.
I had some. Hey, guys.
So remember the last note, where I came home from the hospital after two weeks, looking basically okay, vestibular system well fucked, and cheerful about probably never bleeding again?
AHAHAHA.
I started having double vision. Then I started puking, despite the drugs. Then Z took me into the ER, again. Then I found out the lesion was bigger. Then I cried. Then we again visited the land of uncertainty known as BUT WHAT IF IT'S CANCER?
Spoiler alert: it is not cancer. It took us about a week to find this out, however.
Anyway, this all happened on a Friday; that very night, I was taken to Shands again. I then had the worst weekend of my life waiting for Monday, when I would have surgery. My surgeon was out of town, and flew back in to operate; stayed to make sure I was stable; then jetted. He is an amazing man. I fucking love my doctor. Anyone would, I think.
So. Emergency neurosurgery is not something you want to hear, ever. Ever. There was a chance I could end up paralyzed. A significant chance.
Spoiler alert 2: I'm not.
Monday afternoon, they drilled into my head. My thing had exploded--EXPLODED--I am not making this up; it was the doctor's description--into the 4th ventricle. This was good in that it gave them a place to go. It was bad in every other respect, and why I puked each time I tried to even half lie down. The blood was mostly removed; four messy veins were cauterized; the thing (it is not technically a tumor?) deflated, but because of the location (on the brain stem), not removed.
So. That was about a week and a half ago.
It's not as miraculous as the first time--I LOOK like someone who went through hell--but surgery was successful, and the right thing to do.
Not, mind you, that there were options--I was dying. At least twice now, Z has saved my life by swinging into action. PLUS! When I leaked from my sutures, he was the one that noticed. I got half restitched. The next day, I leaked again. He noticed. I was fully restitched. Z was with me in the night, every night. Also an amazing man.
My right eye is turned, and therefore I have double vision. The right half of my face is very very weak, and drooping. Bafflingly enough, I also erupted into the worst acne of my life, over HALF my face as well. WHAT.
In other news, two weeks ago I was dying and now I can worry about acne. Hey. Science.
So hopefully NOW is the part of the story that is summarized by montage, as I undergo physical therapy and stuff. Ultimately, there are to be no medical restrictions on what I do--crossfit, running, roller coasters, whatever. It will just take time to get there. Time.
I'm trucking around on a walker now. Naturally I am horrified by the social stigma or whatever--I am ridiculous. What this experience has taught me is that I am exceedingly shallow and frequently ridiculous. I weigh 117 now and I'm worried about being fat. I JUST HAD BRAIN SURGERY. I am ridiculous.
Deep breaths, everyone. Self.
I am glad--so glad--to be alive, and be MYSELF, stupid little worries and all. I am tremendously grateful for the company I am in--without Z and his parents, I would be...I'd be dead. Again.
Most doctors--most NEUROSURGEONS--won't go into brains where my thing was. My doctor turned out to have studied how to go into that region specifically. He was the reason I got transfered to Shands at all.
How did I get this doctor?
Z's mom convinced him to take me.
So.
I'm very lucky.
It's sucked, mind you. It will suck more, as I forget that this weakness is temporary.
But: lucky.
PS:
I've said brain "thing" throughout; here is a wiki:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cavernous_hemangioma
Hopefully, I can get individual responses out soon. I am, predictably, easily tired.
Some of you have been amazing via e mail--those of you who have said how much of a positive force I have been in your lives, thank you. It means so much. I need the encouragement right now. Nearly dying twice will do that to you, oddly enough...
I wanted to update here because not everyone is on facebook, and...you COUNT. Girls I am friends with on the internet! I love you! I would want you to know if I died--but better if I get to let you know that I didn't. That said, go ahead and add me on facebook: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/profile.php?id=100000249145760
May some things never change.
First, I was sick and spent two weeks in the hospital. I was bleeding from the brain. I stopped. Ten days later I was back in the hospital, and worse.
I had emergency brain surgery. This was last Monday.
On brain bleeds, and home stuffs.
by Sabina Daisy Moreno on Tuesday, August 17, 2010 at 1:24am
So! For those of you who haven't tuned in recently, I just spent two weeks in the hospital because I had a cerebral hemorrhage.
"You'll drive yourself crazy googling," my neurosurgeon told me, so I haven't.
It is my general understanding, however, that often people die, or are paralyzed, or end up in comas.
I started at Sacred Heart in Pensacola, then was moved (via six hour ambulance) to the Neuro ICU at Shands in Gainesville. There I was the second patient to receive "shower privilege" in three years. It wasn't until later that I realized that it's very quiet in the Neuro ICU. That is: the patients there are largely unconscious.
So I am very lucky.
My boyfriend--Z to some, Ziggy to others--has been beyond amazing. Every night that he could stay with me, he did--so all nights save one. I can't even begin to express how his family has taken care of me throughout the whole ordeal. They are a dream.
I'm back home, though I'm still puking. I'll need physical therapy for a while, and still need help walking. It isn't like this ends at two weeks and I get to resume my life. It's not that at all, and I need to remind myself of that--as impossible as forgetting it seems. I got sick right before finals, and so I didn't finish the semester. Life as I knew it is on hold for a while.
In the best moments, I feel like there is a box on my head and I am on a boat. Perhaps this is fitting, considering my penchant for ocean symbolism. Also, half my face is numb. It even took my tongue, but it gave back half of it.
So that's that, friends. Oh, and I have a brain tumor. Details!
Anyway, I shall rise from this pool of saline foam and IV drips. I will get off this calm shell, for it is a poor boat.
I shall write a concept album about the experience.
I'm serious.
Anyway! Good night, friends. I am shaking again, which is a sign that my taxed vestibular system is throwing in the towel for the day. Good night, good night. I will probably be off the internet for a while now that I've updated. Good night.
Thanks to everyone who has expressed their support, offered their prayers, or thought good thoughts. I appreciate it deeply.
People were very nice. Unfortunately, I felt too sick to respond and promptly ended up back in the ER. Then the OR.
HIGH RISK NEUROSURGERY
by Sabina Daisy Moreno on Thursday, September 9, 2010 at 3:41pm
Your note has been created.
I had some. Hey, guys.
So remember the last note, where I came home from the hospital after two weeks, looking basically okay, vestibular system well fucked, and cheerful about probably never bleeding again?
AHAHAHA.
I started having double vision. Then I started puking, despite the drugs. Then Z took me into the ER, again. Then I found out the lesion was bigger. Then I cried. Then we again visited the land of uncertainty known as BUT WHAT IF IT'S CANCER?
Spoiler alert: it is not cancer. It took us about a week to find this out, however.
Anyway, this all happened on a Friday; that very night, I was taken to Shands again. I then had the worst weekend of my life waiting for Monday, when I would have surgery. My surgeon was out of town, and flew back in to operate; stayed to make sure I was stable; then jetted. He is an amazing man. I fucking love my doctor. Anyone would, I think.
So. Emergency neurosurgery is not something you want to hear, ever. Ever. There was a chance I could end up paralyzed. A significant chance.
Spoiler alert 2: I'm not.
Monday afternoon, they drilled into my head. My thing had exploded--EXPLODED--I am not making this up; it was the doctor's description--into the 4th ventricle. This was good in that it gave them a place to go. It was bad in every other respect, and why I puked each time I tried to even half lie down. The blood was mostly removed; four messy veins were cauterized; the thing (it is not technically a tumor?) deflated, but because of the location (on the brain stem), not removed.
So. That was about a week and a half ago.
It's not as miraculous as the first time--I LOOK like someone who went through hell--but surgery was successful, and the right thing to do.
Not, mind you, that there were options--I was dying. At least twice now, Z has saved my life by swinging into action. PLUS! When I leaked from my sutures, he was the one that noticed. I got half restitched. The next day, I leaked again. He noticed. I was fully restitched. Z was with me in the night, every night. Also an amazing man.
My right eye is turned, and therefore I have double vision. The right half of my face is very very weak, and drooping. Bafflingly enough, I also erupted into the worst acne of my life, over HALF my face as well. WHAT.
In other news, two weeks ago I was dying and now I can worry about acne. Hey. Science.
So hopefully NOW is the part of the story that is summarized by montage, as I undergo physical therapy and stuff. Ultimately, there are to be no medical restrictions on what I do--crossfit, running, roller coasters, whatever. It will just take time to get there. Time.
I'm trucking around on a walker now. Naturally I am horrified by the social stigma or whatever--I am ridiculous. What this experience has taught me is that I am exceedingly shallow and frequently ridiculous. I weigh 117 now and I'm worried about being fat. I JUST HAD BRAIN SURGERY. I am ridiculous.
Deep breaths, everyone. Self.
I am glad--so glad--to be alive, and be MYSELF, stupid little worries and all. I am tremendously grateful for the company I am in--without Z and his parents, I would be...I'd be dead. Again.
Most doctors--most NEUROSURGEONS--won't go into brains where my thing was. My doctor turned out to have studied how to go into that region specifically. He was the reason I got transfered to Shands at all.
How did I get this doctor?
Z's mom convinced him to take me.
So.
I'm very lucky.
It's sucked, mind you. It will suck more, as I forget that this weakness is temporary.
But: lucky.
PS:
I've said brain "thing" throughout; here is a wiki:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cavernous_hemangioma
Hopefully, I can get individual responses out soon. I am, predictably, easily tired.
Some of you have been amazing via e mail--those of you who have said how much of a positive force I have been in your lives, thank you. It means so much. I need the encouragement right now. Nearly dying twice will do that to you, oddly enough...
I wanted to update here because not everyone is on facebook, and...you COUNT. Girls I am friends with on the internet! I love you! I would want you to know if I died--but better if I get to let you know that I didn't. That said, go ahead and add me on facebook: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/profile.php?id=100000249145760
May some things never change.