Chapter 6-They don't call you...

Chapter 6

Coming home after a long stay in the hospital is probably one of the best feelings in the world. There is just something about being at home, in your own bed that makes everything better. Even though you have the energy of a newborn, it doesn’t matter, because at least you have your own bed to collapse in.

This was my daily routine after I got home. I would wake up in the morning, get dressed in my lounging clothes, and then mom and I would go for a walk. At first they were just short walks-down the street a block, then back to the house. But every day they got longer and longer, till I was able to go almost six blocks without stopping for a rest. When I got home from the walk, I would take my first nap of the day-usually about two hours long. After I woke up from the nap, I would spend the afternoon doing various things, till I got tired again. When I got tired, it was time for my afternoon nap-again, about two hours long.

I also got to spend lots of time with Chad. He came down to see me almost every weekend, and he would stay all weekend at our house. It was wonderful to have him there, because even though my eyes were goofy, and I couldn't see straight, and even though I had this really nice mohawk from the surgery incision, he still made me feel like I was the most beautiful person in the world. He made me feel treasured, and special. Like he couldn't live without me. Whenever I started to get discouraged and feel sorry for myself, he would tease me untill I either started laughing, or tried to hurt him. Either way, I stopped throwing my pity party. He was truly my strength.

About a week and a half after my surgery, summer school started in my hometown. My mother had the bright idea that I should volunteer to help out in one of the classrooms, so every morning, bright and early, I found myself up at the school helping out in the first to third grade classroom. Summer school lasted till noon, and then I would go home and collapse for about three hours. That job lasted for almost a month, and it was really very enjoyable. Kids that age are really cute, and they are not shy about anything! I was asked lots of questions about why my hair looked so silly, and other things like that, but it was fun!

Sometime in that month, my mom decided that we needed to go to the swimming pool. Now I love to swim, I always have, and it was close to 104 degrees outside, so it sounded like a great idea. We went to the swimming pool, and everyone got in the water-except me. See, when I looked at the water, the sunlight reflecting off the waves had this strange effect-I couldn’t stop staring at it! It was almost hypnotic. My mom told me later that she was worried I was going to have a seizure. She gave me her sunglasses, and that helped, because I couldn’t see the reflections, but I learned a valuable lesson: never look directly at the water!

That was not the end of the problems. I was sitting on the edge of the pool, dipping my feet in the water, and it felt a bit cold to me. My sister told me to just jump in, because that would help me get adjusted to the water faster. WRONG! I jumped into the shallow end, the water only came up to my chest, but I was instantly frozen in place, unable to move. My mom had to help me over to the edge of the pool, and it took me a good twenty minutes of sitting in the sun wrapped in two towels before I was warm again. So I learned my second lesson for the day: When you are recovering from brain surgery, it is best to go into things gradually!

The pool incident pretty much scared me away from going swimming, at least for awhile. I had a horrible headache when we left, mainly because of the whole flickering reflection deal, but it was nothing a pain pill couldn’t fix.

About a month after my surgery, I started the process of applying to colleges. I had graduated with my associate’s degree, and wanted to finish out my bachelors degree. At that point in time, I wanted to be a science teacher, and I decided to go to Northwest Missouri State University, which was only an hour from Chad’s house, and also my father and grandmother were alumni. I also discovered that since my eyes were so messed up, I was eligible for vocational rehabilitation. Which basically means that the government didn’t want me on welfare or disability any time in the near future, so they were willing to pay for my collegiate education so I could be a profitable taxpaying citizen, instead of a drain on society. Sounds good to me!

In August, 2001, I was ready to start the rest of my life. I was supposed to start my first semester at real college, I only lived an hour away from Chad, and I was pretty much completely recovered from my ordeal. At least I liked to delude myself that I was recovered. I still had to take naps every day. I still had no short-term memory, so I had a tape recorder to take with me to my lectures. My eyes were still messed up in a very bad way. I still couldn’t drive, so Chad had to take me everywhere I wanted to go. (I was really upset about THAT one, let me tell you!)  However, no one could tell me that I was not recovered! (If you haven’t already guessed it, I am a very stubborn individual!)

The day that I moved to my dorm room, we had to make a pit stop on the way, in Kansas City. I had to have a three-month follow-up MRI. That was just a formality, right? I mean, they got the entire tumor out, so I had nothing to worry about. They were just checking to make sure nothing unforeseen had happened. So, I went through my first week of classes, happy as a lark, loving every second of it. I was enrolled in 15 hours of class, which seemed like too little to me, but my mom pointed out that I was still recovering, and that would probably be all I could handle. That first semester I had Chemistry, Calculus, Intro to Literature, Missouri Politics, and another class. After the first week of class, we had a long weekend for Labor Day. I went home, still thinking that everything was good with the world. Man, I hate it when I am wrong!