It’s my Zipperversary!!!!

Well tomorrow is anyway.  This time last year I was freaked the hell out.  I really was not sure I would live through the surgery.  I reached the age my dad was when he got sick last year, and this year, on my 34th birthday, I will outlive him.  That messes with a kid.  I say kid because I was back to the age I was when he died when I realized this.  Back then I knew 34 was too young, but as a 10 year old, I also thought 34 was old.  Now I see what a lifetime has gone by since he’s been gone.  That is another blog for another day, but it lets you peek into my head (pun intended) as to what I was feeling one year ago today.

We got up early the morning of the 8, it was Monday.  The captain and I picked up my mom and headed to the hospital.  I was to be the first surgery that day.  8am.  We sat in a tiny little pre-op room for several hours while my mom and the Captain took turns sneaking out for breakfast and then lunch.  I would have been hungry, but I was too scared of what they were going to do to think of food.  That and my support crew smelled like hospital food.  That will kill any appetite.  They took me into another pre-op where I was only allowed one visitor at a time, and I met with the anesthesiologist and saw my doc for the first time that day.  I remember him asking me if I was a natural red-head.  I said sometimes, but then realized I should have told him he picked a hell of a time to ask if the carpet matched the drapes.  I’m much wittier about 5 seconds after its too late.

The rest was a little hazy.  I remember walking into the OR and having a conversation with people.  They swear that I was still on the bed, but I could swear I was walking.  I know the drugs would not hinder my memory.  I definitely walked into the OR.  Somehow they must have gotten me to sit down or lay down, because I woke up with the worst headache I’ve ever had in my life.  And that is saying something.  I could hear the Captain and my parents, and I was so grateful they were there.  I wanted to tell them I loved them, and thank them for being there.  I wanted to ask if anyone had been home to let out the puppies, but I couldn’t move and I couldn’t speak.  They left the room and I could see them through the window of the ICU, and my mom waved.  The next three nights were full of vampires coming in in the night, taking my blood, giving me pills, asking me if I knew who I was, where I was, or what my birthday was.  There was a cold sponge bath that first night too.  I can’t talk about it.  I can’t stand for strangers to hug me, let alone that.  we will never speak of it again.  The nicer nurses laughed it off when I made up answers to their questioning me every hour.

“Do you know where you are?”  -Yes, in a torture chamber.  “What’s your name?” – what’s YOUR name? good times.  Except the sponge bath.

It was all fun and games until I I saw my head looked like this:

This is why we are called Zipperheads.  The staples in our heads look like zippers.

At one time I had great hair.  It was long, curly, and has been many different colors over the years.  After having to wash my hair in baby shampoo and then getting back into the pool,  it was fried.  There is still a lot of it, however, and even when it looked like this, you really couldn’t tell when I had my hair down.  Other than me itching.  Man did it itch.

Once my hair started growing out, I would wear my hair in what was known as the T.

This was me with my hair up, out of the new growth, so it could breath, and the longer hairs wouldn’t get stuck in the new hair that was just trying to make a life for itself in this world.

I discovered something in all this.  I loved my hair, we all knew that, and I would panic when I was younger thinking I would die if anything ever happened to it.  But now, I wear my scar with pride.  I love my scar.  I would prefer no one touch it, but I am very proud of what I went through.  Everyone has knee surgery, or a bypass, but how many people had a hole drilled in their head and part of their brain removed, and still function on a normal(ish) level?

I didn’t get a medal for going back to work after three weeks, in fact I received a bad review because I didn’t help out well enough when someone else was out shortly after I got back.  I started training to help out while I was still supposed to be out -but I’m not bitter (yes I am).

Instead I got this, a reminder that life is too short to sweat the small stuff.   You just don’t know what is going to happen next, or what is around the corner.  You only get right now.  When you’re sitting in your office, and you can’t get along with your co-worker, or you wonder why somebody is closed off to you, it doesn’t matter.  In the grand scheme of things, nobody cares.  Pay attention to the things that matter, and the rest will just fade into the  background.

I do have a confession, I actually knew all this, I’ve known it since I was 10.  But know I have a pretty cool 7″ scar to go with it!