From My Much, Much, Much Better Half

Hi there everyone, Joyce here – Dave’s better half (well at least I tell myself that anyways).  Dave has been asking me to write a post on his blog for a while, which I admit, I’ve been putting off…but here you go.  First, I will say I’m not as witty or comedic as Dave, so I apologize if this doesn’t make you smile like his posts do.

Where to start, hmm…Dave asked me to write how the entire experience affected me from before the doctors got involved to diagnosis to surgery through today…so from the beginning it is…Since I’ve known Dave he has always complained about headaches, constant ones, all the time – he’d pop sinus medicine like it was candy his head would hurt so often.  I recall often telling him to go to the doctor, that something wasn’t correct, that it didn’t make sense.  After 9 or 10 years he probably got sick of me complaining and obliged.  This was when he saw a neurologist that recommended a sleep test, which resulted in nothing more than “you have headaches sir – deal with it”.  After that I kind of gave up nagging him, as I didn’t see the point, the doctors weren’t going to help him.  Well I only gave up until the end of summer 2012…Dave seemed to have worse headaches, to the point that something really wasn’t correct, things were changing and I was noticing it more often….time to start nagging again…to no luck – the stubborn man I married wasn’t hearing “go to the doctor, something isn’t right”, he just kept living with the pain.  The pain was more than pain though – he was starting to forget things; forming simple sentences was sometimes not possible, picking a piece of paper up off the ground would make the pain worse.  Little things were changing and not for the better. Finally in mid-October he said, “do you know I have had a headache every day since the kids went back to school (Sept 7^th)?” Now most of you don’t know me all that well, some of you do and only a very few of you that are reading this know me enough to know that I don’t sugar coat anything – you’re going to get my opinion and I frankly don’t care if you don’t like.  “DAVE, GO TO THE DOCTOR – SERIOUSLY SOMETHING ISN’T RIGHT – YOU NEED TO GET IT FIXED.” Nuff said?? I thought so, and apparently so did he – because he made the appointment…and, well, you know what’s been happening since then – from his eyes.

Fast forward – the day before Thanksgiving.  I’m happily baking some pies and preparing for my sister and brother-in-law and children to join us at my house on Thanksgiving Day…..until Dave calls.  The doctor said what??? Brian surgery??? Wait a minute, slow down – did I hear him right???  Holy *****!!! 

So at this point you know what Dave is feeling. As for me, the first thing was to figure out what to say to the kids.  I didn’t want them to worry, so the agreement was not to let them know until after the holidays – at least this way I could be the worrier and everyone else could just enjoy Thanksgiving and Christmas. Worrying is probably an understatement but it’s the best I can come up with right now.  I’d tell myself, not to go to the ‘what if’s’, but inevitably the ride home from work I’d go there….every situation I could think of probably went through my head about 1000 times, each day, every day.  It didn’t make it easier, but for me, it let me get the worry out before picking up the kids so that I could focus on them.  Hey, I know it’s not ideal, but it was what it was.

Preparing for the surgery was filled with a great deal of planning and execution.  For those that don’t know me, I’m a process person – I believe there is a process for everything and if the process if followed everything will work out.  So I planned the process….from where the kids would be to time off from work, it was all planned, nothing left open ended – everything planned out. It was set.  This kind of kept my mind off things – kind of – at least it gave me a focus other than those stupid words…brain surgery.

All along the surgeon is telling Dave 3 – 5 days you’ll be in the hospital and you know from his posts, he was planning to breeze right through this – be teasing the nurse staff and having a ‘blast’.  Who was I to not believe the same thing?  The day of the surgery came and it was an eerie kind of quiet at the house.  The kids were with our very good friends (thank heavens for friends), the dog was at my brother’s, everything was quiet – even Dave and I…off to the hospital we go. Register, prep, a kiss good-bye and he was on his way. Waiting, waiting, waiting, …stupid waiting.  I don’t like waiting.  Once the surgeon came out and told me everything went well, I felt a sigh of relief – yes, they had to do more than we wanted them to, but overall it went well and I could go see him.

To say I felt helpless is probably an understatement.  I walked into a very dark room to see my husband lying there, not in a good state.  He barely opened his eyes to say hello and that was it for that night. Watching your spouse in a hospital bed in excruciating pain day in and day out for 9 days is not easy, but that is what you do as a spouse. The first few days were the worst – he couldn’t open his eyes, it hurt too much; he couldn’t talk, because he didn’t want to; he couldn’t eat because the medicine was making him sick.  This is supposed to be better??? I’m not sure I agreed at that point.  Each day, I’d say to the resident, nurse or surgeon (if I was lucky enough to get him in the room), “is this normal” the answer was “yes” and was always followed up with “this is not an easy surgery to go through or come out of”. Ugh. So again, helpless is the only word I can use to describe the feeling.

The saving grace….I knew everything else in our life was taken care of.  The kids were safe and having fun, the house was fine, work would survive – I could focus on Dave and that is what he needed – whether he wanted it or not.

Coming home from the hospital was a great feeling – I believed, he was getting better – things were going to be better.  Of course that was until they were worse…I don’t know how to describe the feeling, but knowing you can’t help the person you share your life with is not fun – it’s heart breaking. No matter what you do, you know it isn’t enough, because you know it’s not helping. There were many nights filled with lots of worry and hoping for a better day the next day.  Most days were not better, but some days were and those little signs of something better, gave me the strength to keeping moving forward and believing that things will be better.

The day we woke up and I saw his surgery area and it looked like someone put a golf ball under his skin, I knew something wasn’t right still.  Since then it’s been nice to have a few days where Dave has claimed no pain, a small victory in this marathon battle, but I know the battle isn’t over. So here we are weeks later waiting on those darn MRI results from Dave’s last post – yes, it’s been a week and no call from the doctor – lovely, fantastic…ugh.

If you ask what all of this has taught me, I would say that it is simple – you can’t take anything for granted – not a single thing. Enjoy everything always and don’t let the small stuff bother you – at least that is what I try to do now.  It doesn’t always work out, but I’m certainly more aware now than I ever was before of what is important. I also realize now more than ever that we have an amazing network of family and friends and I can’t thank them enough for everything they’ve done.  You know who you are, I don’t have to mention you by name – just know I appreciate you more than I can explain and I will never take you for granted.