My Brain and Me: A Love Story

I awoke during brain surgery after the first hole had been drilled through my skull and the first metal pin had been implanted deep in my brain. I was groggy and my head was encased in a steel cage which was bolted to the operating table to keep me from moving. I heard the surgeon tell other people in the large cold room that he had placed the pin about where he wanted it. Through a dry throat I told him there’s no “about’ during my brain surgery. There’s no “almost” and definitely no “oops”. There is only precision.
Later, I noticed two people dressed in operating scrubs standing off to the side, chatting, and I asked them if they were waiting for a bus.
I was having the surgery as the next step after drugs failed to control my shaking from Parkinson’s disease.
Patients are awakened after the first pin is implanted in the surgery, called deep brain stimulation, so the doctors can determine whether it is having any initial positive effect. They turn on electricity to the first implant so it can begin sending hundreds of tiny electrical charges into the patients brain every minute to reduce symptoms. Laying on the gurney and numb, I couldn’t tell if the first implant was working but the the doctors said there was immediate improvement., and their delighted faces spoke louder than their words.

The surgeon then began drilling the second hole in my skull while I was awake. It’s a lot like a dentist drilling a tooth except the pressure is on the top of your head.

Years earlier I had laughed off brain surgery.as ludicrous when my neurologist mentioned it as an option. How bad would you have to be to before brain surgery became an attractive option, I thought.
About 2 years later i was sitting in the sunshine trying to eat lunch when surgery became the only viable option. I was trying to spoon potato salad into my mouth but just as the utensil reached my lips my hand would shake violently sending potato and mayonnaise flying. I could no longer be confident of feeding myself or even be sure I wouldn’t pelt other diners with food. I told my wife and called the surgeon that day.
But getting brain surgery isn’t like ordering a pizza, for instance Dominos doesn’t require you to pass a three-hour test of your intellect and your ability to put bent nails though holes before agreeing to send a large with pepperoni. The test is no joke. It is meant to determine whether a patients brain is already too damaged to make surgery an option. I worked with a woman whose husband failed the test and was rejected for surgery. He died less than a year later.
My test was challenging, at one point I was asked to identify images of various animals and I said a large sea bird was an albatross, but the doctor giving the test said t was a pelican. For some reason I argued that she was costing me the test by making mistakes and it became a bit heated. She said I could leave and I’d fail the test, but I calmed down and later found out I had passed.

The day of surgery I was lying on a gurney waiting to be wheeled into surgery when a young woman walked in and said she was there to chat until they came to get me. She noticed my leg was shaking and asked if I was cold or nervous. I said I had Parkinson’s but that didn’t settle it for her. She said she was taught Parkinson’s didn’t cause shaking legs. I may have mentioned in passing that I was about to have brain surgery and debating with an intern about why my leg was shaking wasn’t how I wanted to spend what might be my last few minutes of lucid thought, and she may have stalked out. After the surgery she showed up in the room where I was to spend the night and told me she enjoyed my surgery.
That’s when I sort of snapped. “Look,” I told her.”I don’t give a rats ass whether you enjoyed it. My life was on the line and whether it amused you is absolutely no interest to me. You can’t go around talking to patients telling then the first thing that pops into your head or they’ll fire you. You have to think about what would be comforting and the fact that watching then being cut open is entertaining to you is not comforting its insulting and offensive.
She burst into tears just as the surgeon walked in to check on me and she hid her face from him and walked out.
I waited until 530 am to call my wife and ask her to pick me up and when she arrived about an hour later the young nurse was at the nurses station, she hugged me and thanked me, she said for being honest with her.