Surgery #2: Revision of vp shunt #1:

I had scheduled my surgery for the following week. It would be Thursday, September 8^th. I was nervous, but nothing like I had been for the first surgery back in April. Dr. Shanno would be drilling into my skull again, but there would be no incision into my abdomen. It was kind of like having half of my previous surgery redone.

I came out of surgery with staples in my scalp, once again. I’m not very fond of staples in my scalp. Dr. Shanno ordered a follow up CT of my brain to check placement of the shunt. The anesthesia hadn’t made me sick this time around, so I was kind of hungry when they brought my dinner tray. I only ate some berries, though, because they brought a meat dinner instead of the vegetarian meal I had requested. Oh well, I thought, I’ll just have my husband get me something later. I knew that the cafeteria opened at 2am, and since we were both night owls, I thought I’d get hungry in the middle of the night.

I ended up sleeping through the night, and Dr. Shanno came in the next morning. He explained that he wasn’t quite happy with the placement of the shunt in my ventricles. Apparently, the catheter was too close to the wall of the ventricle, and he wanted to go back in and pull it slightly back. He said that now was the time since I was already opened up and he could go back into the same place. I wouldn’t even have to go under anesthesia all the way. They would do what was known as “conscious sedation.”

I was so hungry. I asked him if I could eat. He gave me a sympathetic smile and answered, “No.” Since he had to either squeeze me into his busy surgery schedule or tack me onto the end of the day, I had to stay NPO (nothing by mouth) until after surgery. None of us knew when the surgery would be. We just had to wait. It would be sometime that day.

Surgery #3: Shunt revision #2:

September 9^th was a long day. I spent most of it visiting with family, watching TV, trying to keep my mind off the fact that this shunt was turning out to be a dud. Why was I having so many problems with this thing? Dr. Shanno said these usually last several years. Mine was only lasting several minutes it seemed.

They came to get me for surgery late in the evening. I don’t remember what time it was, but it was fairly late. I remember wondering how many hours this poor young surgeon puts in, and if he can still concentrate after such a long day.

I met Dr. Smart, the anesthesiologist, before surgery. She left quite an impression. I don’t know if it was the name or the colorful hat she was wearing when I saw her in the surgery room. I would see her again in an ACLS update a year and a half later. Come to think of it, maybe I just thought I saw a colorful hat, and really it was no hat at all. I was more “floaty” than usual on this “conscious sedation.” I quote the conscious sedation because I really wasn’t conscious at all. I kept hoping later that I didn’t say anything inappropriate while under the influence of these meds.

Once again, it was over, and they were wheeling me back to my room on 2 north. I saw Dr. Shanno talking to an Indian man on my journey back. I waved and smiled, like we were old friends. I wasn’t sure who the Indian man was. I hadn’t met him yet. I was loopy, loopy, loopy. And soon I was sick, sick, sick.

Dr. Shanno said I could eat whatever I wanted after my surgery, so my parents offered to get me dinner at the Olive Garden. Yummy! I was so hungry. Little did I know I would be so terribly sick after this “conscious sedation,” which was supposed to be easier on you as far as nausea was concerned. Dr. Shanno said I shouldn’t be sick; hence, the Olive Garden plan. Bad plan. When my parents showed up, I could barely stand the smell of food. I waved them away, and Camron filled them in on how sick I was.

Despite my frequent bouts of nausea/vomiting, it was vital that I make the journey down to CT so they could once again check the placement of the shunt catheter. I was being wheeled, barf bucket on lap, down a long hallway, not far from the pharmacy. I recognized a pharmacy technician walking by. I said hi, and she looked at me funny. A few seconds passed before she realized it was me. “Kari!” she said in her Romanian accent. I was glad she recognized me finally and didn’t think I was some kook.

The nurse who cared for me that night was named Claire. She was a very sweet woman who shared my love of Seinfeld. I remember watching an episode when she first came into the room. She knew just which episode it was. I was impressed at her knowledge of the show, but I was even happier to find how caring and sweet she was (as I’ve said before, all nurses should be).

I was sick all night and into the next morning (now Saturday). I got to meet the Indian man I had seen talking with Dr. Shanno the night before. His name was Dr. Modha. He was a soft-spoken young man, who looked to be in his thirties. He informed me that he was happy with the placement of the catheter, and that I could go home when I was ready. I was still very sick, so as soon as I was able to keep down some yogurt from breakfast, I informed my nurse I was ready to be discharged.

I had requested the same nurses I had back in April, since I was so impressed with their care. I got to have Diane for a short time on the first day, but the others were unavailable. I had a nurse by the name of Susan during the day of my departure. She was a gruff woman. I got the feeling she didn’t like her job very much. When it was time to go home, she took my IV out, but she wasn’t very careful, and I think it must have nicked a nerve. For the following week, I had nerve pain down my left arm. It was highly uncomfortable, and I just hoped and prayed it would go away. I can only describe it as burning hot water running down my arm. I shudder thinking about it almost three years later.

I spent the next several days recovering at my parents’ house. My younger sister, Amanda, was with us. I was pretty much good as new, and planned on returning to work the following week on Friday.