Chapter 3

Confusion Settles In
Sometime during the 4 hours that have passed between my arriving at the ER around 1 PM and my heading for my CAT scan around 5 PM, I begin to have difficulty comprehending what is happening even though I appear to be quite lucid.  I recall repeatedly being asked to: touch my nose, squeeze someone's fingers, push them away, pull them towards me, lift my legs and resist their attempt to lower or raise my legs, wink, stick out my tongue, answer math questions, etc.  I engage in a conversation with a neurologist who comments that the only sign I'm exhibiting that is concerning and may be  indicative of a neurological issue, is that I seem to have lost my ability to filter. I am swearing frequently and my conversation is laced with profanity. My  brother-in-law explains to her that this is not an abnormal finding, but quite typical for me. ;-)

It is the undelivered text messages to Keith which I discover in my cell phone a few weeks after surgery that help to reconstruct the events as they occurred.  The first two texts go through while I am still in the waiting room of the ER.  It is the last 4 texts that I've tried to send from the holding area that leave the message window but fail to be delivered to Keith's cell phone.

1:01 PM ""Bob has instructed me to go to er.  Jackie is driving me. can u pick me up later?"
1:20 PM "yes"
4:02 PM "getting IV meds. going 4 cat scan."
4:56 PM "Jackie had to leave. unsure when I will b finished. will let u know when i am done & need ride"
6:01 PM "can't talk on phone.  text only. no service for voice. neuro folks seem concerned"
6:18 PM "cat scan shows 'mass' in brain. need mri. being told neuro folks will most likely require               overnight stay"

I remember a male nurse coming into my room at some point, giving me a hospital gown, and instructing me to get undressed.  I do not remember changing my clothes.  The nurse returns and informs me I need to undress completely because I am going to be sent for an MRI.  Therefore, any clothing with metal in it has to be removed.  I explain I had left some of my clothes on to stay warm (the hospital is freezing cold).  I request several blankets and ask when I might expect to get some of the pain medication they have been promising me.  The nurse indicates he expected the IV to be inserted long before and leaves to look into the hold up.  I have no idea what time this actually occurred.  I wake up (having no idea how long I have been sleeping), and I am aware I have an IV.  I have no recollection of having it inserted.  I just remember thinking what ever they are giving me is finally relieving the pain in my head.

Unbeknown to me, the ER physician has called neuro in for a consult due to the mass that has been discovered on the CAT scan.  A plan is being formulated on how best to proceed - can I be given something for the pain? what about anti-seizure & anti-swelling medication? is the MRI needed before a decision is made?

A physician's assistant (PA) from neurology comes in to my room and inquires if I have any family.  I explain I have a HUGE family (in addition to my husband and a daughter who lives out of town, I have 8 brothers & sisters, etc).  She asks me if anyone can come to the hospital.  I tell her my husband is at work and is planning on coming.  Up until this point, he is merely waiting for me to let him know what we find out.  I add that the dealership closes at 6 PM but he can come at any time.  The PA hands me a phone and instructs me to have him come right away.

 I call Keith and tell him to come get me.  He thinks I am being released.  Confusion settles in and I lose all sense of time.  I remember the PA returning and explaining that she hates to give me bad news while I am alone but I need to know the scan revealed there is a large mass present in my brain that requires immediate attention.  They are going to admit me to the hospital and they are trying to get me in for an MRI ASAP.

Keith arrives and they bring him to where they are holding me.  He is given my belongings by the male nurse who informs him I should be heading for the MRI soon.  The doctor never comes to talk to Keith.  No one explains anything.

An hour later, the nurse returns and is surprised I have not gone for the test yet.  That is the last thing I remember until I wake up in the intensive care unit.  I have no memory of having the MRI done.  I only remember hearing people discuss that I have be placed in intensive care and thinking to myself "That doesn't sound very good."  Two weeks later when I am attempting to reconstruct what has occurred, Keith explains he was thinking more along the the lines of "WTF??!!"