In light of the chaos that ensued yesterday which ultimately necessitated my being admitted to the hospital, my ability to maintain a secret neatly bundled in a private package has suddenly gotten more difficult.
Yesterday was the second time I participated in Emory’s Doctor for a Day. A program for corporate and community leaders to come and experience various medical and technological advancements while also shadowing physicians and medical staff in action. I was asked to participate, not because I’m a corporate or community leader, but simply because I’m a patient involved with Emory Healthcare and willing to openly share my story and our experiences.
As a part of this experience, we toured various departments, met with Emory leadership, were up close and personal in the Neonatal ICU, Fertility Clinic, various Intensive Care Units and most intimately, witnessed various surgical procedures in the OR.
It’s been a fascinating and eye-opening experience. The exposure reinforces my confidence in my choice of Emory for my care, while also intensifying my gratitude for being on the other side now and not the active patient in treatment.
I found myself yesterday, for the second time in two weeks, wearing zip-up “bunny suit” scrubs, surgical mask and hair cap standing in OR 14. The same operating room where I laid as a patient having my craniotomy two and a half years ago and home and “office” for my surgeon Costas Hadjipanayis. It is there that I’ve returned twice as an observer, grateful survivor and patient with profound respect and perspective.
I’d barely eaten breakfast by 7:30am yesterday and managed to polish off a half cup of coffee before my presentation to the group at 9:00am. While I was still hungry, I set off with the group carrying my bottle of water having barely drank more than a few ounces by the time we hit the doors to the OR at 10:30am.
I know I should know better. With my low blood pressure and everything else, I should have known better indeed.
I stood enthralled with interest listening to Costas discuss the case. I asked questions with the group and had respect for not only the patient on the table, but for what I myself had experienced. It felt remarkable that I had come full circle, emerging two and a half years later on other side of where I once lay.
Suddenly, I felt very hungry and I felt my blood sugar drop. I began to shake and I got very hot. I felt as if I was re-breathing nothing but hot air and started to pull at my mask in an attempt to get some clean slow cool breaths of air. My body began to go numb and my ears starting to ring and my vision became impaired. The minuscule portion of my brain that had yet to shut down, knew there was no turning back.
I was going down and down I went.
So, there I was. On the floor of the operating room passed out only feet from where I had once laid two and a half years ago. The irony did not escape me nor did the level of embarrassment.
In no way had I been bothered by what I had seen, yet, there I was laid out on the floor, nurses holding my legs in the air getting blood to my brain and voices talking to me.
I was a pathetic hot mess. At least I didn’t cry and choose to attempt humor instead.
In came a hospital bed and off I went out of the OR to be evaluated and cared for and eventually admitted. Tests were run, lots of blood was drawn and an MRI was ordered ensure I was 100% neurologically clear.
I’ve already written and admitted that we’ve finally arrived at that place where we finally feel entitled to move on and away from the place where my brain tumor resides in the forefront and has an unbalanced weight in our decisions.
It’s taken two years to get here, but I and we are here. It is beautiful.
The piece of shit will always be with us and always be a part of our lives. We’ll always be fighting it and we’ll always be fearing it. However, we’re moving on living our lives and doing so without placing the piece of shit first in our minds.
This equilibrium took time to find and settle into, but we are living the life we had always planned to live.
As I lay on the floor of the OR, slowly gaining glimmers of clarity I could hear Costas talking and directing in an attempt to help me. I could hear the concern in his voice. I could hear conflict and I could hear the uncertainty if he could speak up. I spoke up and said it for him.
Aside from my husband, Costas was the first person I told I was pregnant four months ago. As my surgeon, I had confided in him our desire for another child and my fears surrounding that.
We’ve had honest discussions and while I know no one has the magic crystal ball to predict when the piece of shit will return, Costas has always encouraged us to forge ahead, pick up the pieces, live life and embrace my stability.
Unequivocally he’s encouraged us regardless of what our decision would be. It only made sense that I shared the news with him after I told Paul. Selfishly, I needed someone to remind me of what I already knew but needed to hear one more time. It was ok and it should be celebrated. I am stable.
My private and confidential secret is no longer bundled in a small package anymore, but still neatly packaged and hiding in my belly confirmed by two ultrasounds in the past 24 hours.
While I trust in the confidentiality of all those who treated me and came in contact with me yesterday, the entire ordeal simply makes more sense when you know that my being pregnant was the tipping point for my hungry, dehydrated body with a history of running on low blood pressure.
While it’s been fun keeping this little secret for so long (16 weeks) and it would’ve been fun to keep the charade going for a few more weeks, it’s simply time to come clean.
Everything happens for a reason and everything will be alright.
Dear Jen, I was completely overwhelmed with JOY when I read this post a couple of days back, and so choked up with tears and emotion that I could not get the words out to my husband…finally was able to blurt out ‘she is fine!’ and then again after a bit more…’Jen is pregnant!’. I am so happy for you, I am so happy in your celebration and giving of life and love. What else is there really here on earth when you step back and think about it? Many many blessings dear Jen, to you and all of yours. Peace and Love.
Oh, Heidi… you brought tears to my eyes. Thank you! Peace and love back at you and I hope you continue to enjoy good health and stability and I send my best to you! Cheers- Jen
So happy for you Jen, CONGRATULATIONS!!!!
Such exciting news! Big congrats to you and your beautiful family!!!
Thank you everyone for your support, kind words and love. We are blessed and very grateful.
Big congrats your way!! I had 2 reactions after reading this wonderful entry of yours….1) So so happy for you and your sweet family and 2) I recalled those 10 full days in January of snow days, weekends and MLK day… all with your boys at home and now knowing that you were in the throes of your first trimester!! Holy smokes– if you can get through those days, then having 3 children is going to be a piece of cake!! xoxo
Thanks Alex. Those snow days were a challenge and I think you may be onto something! Thanks.
Never a dull moment! So glad all is well!!
PS—I will say it again–you are a very talented writer!
Thank you Nancy!
Congratulations to your family! What exciting news. Hats off to you for keeping a secret like that for so long. I bet the boys are excited. Take care of you two!
I love a happy ending!!!! Congrats.
So beyond happy for you! Congratulations, rest up and enjoy!!!! What a tremendous blessing. xoxo
I cannot believe it!!! I am thrilled for y’all! Good job hiding it so long! Congrats!
so exciting for you and the family! maybe a little ballerina to add to the mix lol – hugs and best wishes my friend!
My heart is smiling! A very new, exciting chapter indeed! 🙂
As always, beautifully written! This is such exciting news and my heart is full for you! So glad that you and Baby “G” are doing well. Take care of the both of you and many, many hugs to you!
Congratulations Jen. Very happy for you.
Yahooooo! You are indeed forging ahead and with such a deep appreciation of what miracle lies inside you and what a miracle your life is. Congratulations.
Congratulations Jen! Ask Paul what I wrote to him when I saw the photo he posted on FB.
Congratulations to you and your family!
You just made me smile very big this morning….that is awesome news Jen!!! Congrats to you all!! xoxo
Oh…congratulations!!!!!!! What a true blessing… Baby, not passing out! Hahaha!
WOW!!! Not in a million years did I expect to see/hear THAT(as I anxiously read through your blog to see what secret info you were going to divulge to us)
WOW-I am SO excited for you-my heart is pounding and my eyes tearing with an amazing amount of happiness for YOU, Paul and your boys. What fantastic news! Take care of you, Jen!
CONGRATULATIONS!!! That is fantastic news! Take care of yourself and that precious little one inside!
How strange that you were lying on the floor of the operating room, but for such a fabulous and wonderful reason! That will be a family story for the future… Take care and many congratulations.
OMG….I’m going to be another pretend GRAMI !!! Yippeee !!! …am thrilled for all of you. I’d better start knitting!..Take good care of yourself, my dear..and love to you both. _suz
Congratulations! That is such great news! I am not that far ahead of you, I just hit the 20week mark w/ our 3rd. Live in the blessings
Where do I start…I couldn’t be happier for you! What a way to make the announcement! Never a dull moment! Love to You, Paul, Cooper, and Tucker! XOXOX