Jason went into the OR at 9.00am. Jason was calm, brave and ready for this surgery, this was going to make a big difference in his life.

My cell phone stayed clasped in my hand constantly checking it. The neurosurgeon wanted me to carry it in case there was a problem, a decision to be made. The waiting for news good or bad was brutal. The fear of  not knowing what was happening was overwhelming. With my whole being in an accelerated state of anxiety the only way for me to stay together was to pace back and forth, always sticking close to the elevator where the patients would come up from the OR. Everyone’s eyes were constantly fixated on the floor numbers above the elevator door awaiting their loved one. When the elevator floor number would light up everyone jumped up hoping praying that this is theirs, the doors open it’s not Jason, one other family is overjoyed. Where is Jason? Is he alright? My mind would be going crazy imagining everything that could go wrong. There were five or six other families in the ICU family room which slowly over the day dwindled to just two of us. The elevator floor number lit up. As I hear the elevator approaching our floor I hear many voices and a heart monitor, a steady strong rhythm..beep..beep..beep..I knew without a doubt that this was Jason. The doors opened, the best gift imaginable, it was Jason. He was surrounded by a full team of nurses, anesthesiologists and Drs. Jason was ok and doing well considering the ordeal he had just been through. OMG that emotion and feeling in my heart, so many layers to it. Such intense relief, joy and worry.

It was now 5.00pm. Jason had been in the OR for 8 hours. The main man, the hero of the day Jason’s neurosurgeon was on his way. As he approached I met his eyes looking for signs of concern. This unspoken exchange expressed in the eyes and face between the mother and your child’s surgeon is a language all in itself.  I was really overwhelmed and indebted to this man as we shook hands, the gifted hands that had performed a miraculous surgery and returned Jason back to us. It had been a challenging long surgery. He had removed a lot of scar tissue and some nodules which possibly were residual tumour since they had a vascular component to them. The issue of pressure changes and swelling was managed, they didn’t wake the tiger !

Jason was now set up in the ICU directly in front of the nurse’s station.  Jason sensing we were there opened his eyes and in a slurred groggy voice said “I’d like a Tylenol and a Coke please?” then fell back into his deep drug induced sleep. That was the best thing and so funny. Right away we knew Jason was ok. This was the Jason we knew. The nurses questioned me what does Jason need? I told them “a Tylenol and a Coke” they laughed and right away they knew what an amazing special patient this was.

I didn’t feel well at all. High pitch ringing in my ears, a cold clammy sweat, ‘I think I’m going to be sick’, I think I’m going to faint’, the mad anxiety of finding a vacant chair as I could feel myself starting to go. Of course nurses had spotted what was happening before I actually met the floor. A chair was slid underneath me, a paper bag put in my hand, a cold cloth on the back of my neck and my head down between my legs. Here I was in the middle of the ICU amongst all these critically ill patients and I had my own small team of nurses for 5-10 mins. I felt bad about using their valuable time but I guess a Mum on the floor is a real liability. They said ‘it is the shock of seeing your son in this state that caused your body to react this way.’

Arriving back the next morning I couldn’t wait to see Jason, I couldn’t get to his station in the ICU fast enough. Eagerly anticipating Jason I was met with an empty space. I sank. I will never forget that feeling. A nurse appeared “Jason has been moved. Jason did so well last night so he has been moved to the less critical part of the ICU” pointing to the other side of the room.  I’m sure my face said it all as she stroked my arm. “Don’t worry he is fine”.

There he was, he looked so young and angelic just quietly lying there, no sounds of fussing or moaning, sheets still smooth and straight. Jason had such a strong constitution. Even when the heart monitors were displaying raised vitals reflecting the trauma of  pain Jason still would never complain. The nurses and doctors had never met anyone quite like Jason and  this was where he got the label ‘STOIC’. Jason had this amazing ability to go deep within himself and to get on with the healing process.

His bed had been raised to about a 45 degree angle to help with any swelling.  He looked good considering less than 24 hours ago he was in brain surgery. I survey the monitors, all numbers look good. I notice that they have removed some of his head dressing plainly revealing the drain site,a clear tube of slow moving liquid protruding out of his head. I started feeling a little light headed. I hear an alarming CODE BLUE on the other side of the room followed by a mad scurry of staff.  Out of nowhere high pitched ringing starts in my ears…Oh no!!! Not again. Head is getting dizzy, Shit!!! I can’t faint now. In haste I spot a blue chair of some sort behind me, I grab it and start to collapse into it. A groggy voice says “I wouldn’t do that if I were you Mum” followed by snoring. I look and I am about to collapse into a commode ideally equipped with 4 wheels. I could only imagine the image Jason had when he opened his eyes and saw what his Mum was about to do…Mum dropping back into the commode, bottom getting stuck in the hole,the jolt setting the commode free to roll down the ICU aisle with Mum shrieking with arms and legs sticking up in the air. This scenario provided many laughs throughout the years.

It was a very hard week for Jason at the MNI but finally we were back home. Jason was resting lots and in less pain with each passing day. Since his surgery Jason had not had a seizure which was absolutely amazing and Jason was thrilled to know that. Possibilities were opening up!  It had already made a difference in the family’s anxiety level.

Then a change. At the incision site Jason began to have increased swelling. I was concerned. I called the MNI and they said as long as the incision isn’t infected it is probably normal post-op. Sure enough Jason didn’t have a temp but Jason wasn’t himself and I knew with a mother’s instinct that something was seriously wrong. I took pictures of the swelling and emailed them to the Neurosurgeon. He still said to wait and see. Two days later Jason is dizzy, vomiting, bad headaches, not well at all. The next thing we are at the MNI in the neurosurgeon’s office and yes sure enough he has a CSF leak. Jason was admitted for emergency surgery the following morning. I was so scared for Jason as he was still recovering from the first surgery. Jason was in the OR for about 4 hrs. Thankfully they managed to find the hole where fluid was gushing out. They repaired the hole with a glue type substance and sutures and wrapped his head very tight. They started an aggressive course of antibiotics. Jason’s strength and tolerance was unbelievable through all of this. Jason humbled doctors and nurses over this challenging time. Within a week we were back home and I was to remove the bandages within a few days and to report the findings to Montreal. Thank goodness such a relief to find there was no evident swelling . Surgery had been a success.

Soon after Jason registered himself to start college that fall.