The Awakening

That would be a good name for a movie....
After the surgery, I was placed in intensive care.  I was naturally listed as serious but stable until I awoke.
It started in the normal way.  You might even say I had my first case of deje vu as I awoke to find myself looking for Mr. Happy.  Typical male I guess, but to abject dismay and slight anger I found that there was an apparatus attached to it in the form of an ominous tube.  I remember clearly stating that I did not want to awake with one in me; a catheter that is.
 Now naturally the doctors agreed with me but protocol and the fact I may wake up six months from now ensured that the tube was there.
As I tugged at it to get it out, my neighbor, Liz Mackenzie, a nurses aide, came in to check on me in hopes to relay any progress to my very distraught parents as they waited downstairs in the “Death Row” waiting room.
I opened my eyes looked at her and said “Hi neighbor, get this f-ing catheter out of me!”

         She said she would tell the nurse and they would remove it for me.  She left quite pleased with my questionable bed side manners.   Three things were determined in that short encounter.  I was awake and not paralyzed.  I remembered her and damned if my vocabulary wasn’t polished and fully functional.

         The doctors had to throw out their game plan.  My stay in ICU was shortened from 3 to 5 days to overnight.
         I was moved back to my room on December 06.  I awoke to see both my parents standing there waiting for this special moment and of course I would not dismay.

         It is funny how drugs can play on your mind and of course my editing would later be a concern I would have to overcome.  My father stood at the bottom of the bed looking at me stoically while my mom sat by my side holding my hand.  I looked up and said “Hi Dad, I hear ya thought I was gonna die on you last night?”

“Yeah”, he said with a sigh, “You came pretty close”.

“No way” I announced with my chest puffed out.

“What do you mean by that?” Dad inquired.

“I haven’t screwed enough chicks yet!” I said with a wry smile.

With that my mother’s hopes were dashed.  A proud woman of a very strong British, Victorian upbringing, she stood up and stormed out of the room in absolute disgust.

My dad, who looks like Peter Falk, turned and went to catch mom muttering something to the effect, “At least we know he’s normal!”



The new day in my room started like any other.  Nature called and I wanted to go to the washroom.  The nurse handed me a bedpan and pride in my hand I refused, demanding I be allowed to walk to the bathroom.  The nurse said “You can’t, you just had brain surgery.”

I said “Either you help me or I’ll walk myself.”

She said ‘You’ll have to wait until I ask Dr. Cameron”

I said “O.K.”

She left the room and paged Dr. Cameron who in turn told her that if he wants to walk then let him.

The nurse returned and helped me out of the bed.  This was the first awareness that there was a suction apparatus attached to my head.  I held onto the I.V. pole and the suction in the other hand and together we walked to the bathroom.  As the nurse stood there I told her I was O.K. and would like privacy. She left until I pressed the button and was then escorted back to my bed.  There was a mirror in the bathroom and I looked at my bandaged head and puffy face and was not overly moved by the image.  I went back to bed and watched T.V.

It was a new day, a new dawn, of which to now I have had 34 years of bonus life.
I have experienced fatherhood and as I write my 9th and 10th grandchildren are due before Xmas 2012 and I will be a mere 53 years young.
Thanks to the skillful hands of Dr. G. Stuart Cameron of Victoria B.C. Canada for that miracle.

My next insert will be Homeward Bound