My biggest problem was the size of a walnut.
This is the story of a close friend of Just Joe's, it's amazing! I hope it inspires.
It was late September, 1981. I had just started my final year of High School. Little did I know what was in store for me over the next 6 months.
The day was like any other fall day on the west coast. The sun was out, birds hadn’t started their migration south yet and the smell of summer was still in the air. I was with my Community Resources class (the Grade 12 equivalent to Phys Ed) and we were playing a game of soccer. I had the ball and was racing down the sidelines when suddenly I fell. There wasn’t a player around me and I hadn’t tripped over my own feet …. I just lost my balance and fell. I also lost the ball. I was ushered off the field and taken to the school nurse for a severe case of field rash (we only had gravel fields). I could not figure out what had happened.
Over the next 3 months, I started to experience headaches, the likes of which I had never felt. Each headache was worse than the one previous. The headaches were accompanied with blurred vision, loss of balance, decreased appetite and the need for sleep – lots of it. On Jan 2, 1982, my mother (who just happens to be an OR nurse - she has since retired) said that something wasn’t right and took me to see our GP. We went there and after checking me out, he immediately made an appointment for me to see a neurological specialist the next day (don’t forget, this was the early 80’s – there was no such thing as a “waiting list”).
The specialist saw me the next day and he checked EVERYTHING. He ran a battery of neurological tests and then took my parents outside the room and said “Geoff is a very sick young man – he needs to go to a hospital … NOW. I believe he has a brain tumor”.
I was admitted to St Paul’s Hospital on Jan 4, 1982 and was immediately sent for a CAT scan (MRI’s were still in the theoretical stage – their first use was not until 1985). The scan showed that I had a walnut sized grade 1 astrocytoma. The neurologist was right – it was a brain tumor. It was located on the stem against the skull. The doctor figured that I had been born with the tumor as the bones that formed my cranium had formed around it. For some unknown reason, the tumor became active.
The CAT scan also found that I had an acrachnoid cyst in the right frontal lobe of my skull. This lemon sized cyst was growing and pushing against the ventricles and that was the cause of my massive headaches. I was scheduled for 2 operations – the first to remove the cyst and the second to remove the tumor. My headaches were now so bad that I was getting a 60mg shot of codeine every 3 hours, but the pain persisted. The doctor could not prescribe a higher dosage as this would mask my neurological vital signs.
I was wheeled into the OR on Jan 6 for the first operation – the removal of the cyst. This involved installing a shunt which is a fancy term for a bilge pump. This would take the excess fluid from my ventricles and funnel it down a tube running down the right side of my head and torso to my stomach where the stomach acid would eat it away. The doctors later told me that if the shunt or tubing ever bothered me, he could just rip it out. Nice terminology, Doc.
My second operation came 2 days later. My neurosurgeon told me that just before I went under I asked him “Doc, if you mess this up, does this go as a black mark on your record?” Apparently, I cracked the entire room up with that remark. One of my best and I don’t remember it.
After I was wheeled out of the second operation, I remember lying in recovery and opening my eyes to see my mother. I asked for a glass of water and was told that I could not have water, but they could give me ice. I remember eating the ice, and then taking a bite of the Styrofoam cup – I was hungry.
After I was wheeled up to ICU, I asked mom why I couldn’t move my head. I was told that the muscles in my neck needed time to heal as they had just been put through the wringer.
As one day ran into the next, I got better and soon I was walking around the entire hospital floor. I had nurses coming into my room saying that they were going for pizza and asking me if I wanted a slice or two.
One of my best memories while convalescing was that every morning I would find a gift on the night table. It could have been a word puzzle book, some gum, or even once …. a piggy bank. There would always be an inspirational message attached with each and every gift and they did wonders for my spirit. To this day, I still do not know the name of my benefactor … but I have my suspicions. Sister Mary Stewart, I don’t know if it was you but I do know that you made constant visits to me and you always had a kind word to share. I am sure you are looking from above with that smile that was always on your face. Thanks!
I never realized just how close I had become until I learned about Marco. I shared an ICU room with him. He was the same age I was with the same type of tumor I had only his tumor was ¼ inch farther in the brain than mine was. He never saw his graduation. He died.
It was then that it hit me. It was then that I started to cry. It was then that the emotional flood gates were opened. I survived.
St Paul’s is a teaching hospital and as such, I had student nurses around me from time to time learning. One of the students was present when the stitches in the back of my neck were being removed and she was told to take some out. Everything was fine until I heard “oops” come out of the student’s mouth. I looked at my dad (who was in the room with me) and he looked at the senior nurse. She looked at my father and said “Would you mind leaving sir, you’re making the student nervous”. My father (a priest of some 20 years at that time) was very soft-spoken and said, “I think not. I would prefer to stay in the room to make sure that no more “oops”’s happen”. 208 stitches came out with nary an “oops” to be heard again.
When I was first admitted to St Paul’s, Dr Griesdale (my neurosurgeon) promised me that I would walk out of that hospital. I held him to his word and on Jan 20, 1982 I did, indeed, walk out of that hospital.
I was at home for a month and in that time I formulated the building blocks of how I would live my life. Not what I would do with it, but how I would live it. Over the years, these have been refined and they will continue to be refined until I pass on. The one main mantra I always say to people:
Every day is a good day for the sole reason that I am are here to experience it.
Everything that happens this day is a blessing. I am glad I am here to be a part of it.
I went back to school on Feb 15, 1982 thinking that it was a lost cause. With over 45 days of school missed, how could I ever make that up? I decided not to give up. I thought that if the doctors and nurses took that attitude, I wouldn’t be here. I put every effort I had into making sure that I was part an active part of the grad class of 1982. I ended up with 17 course credits for graduation (14 is all that is needed to graduate). I graduated with a high C+ average.
FOOTNOTE: I have since gone back for follow-up CAT scans in 1987, 1992 and 1997. No sign of the tumor exists and I have been given a clean bill of health
My biggest thanks goes to my parents. When I was in the hospital, they were the first people I saw when I woke up and the last people I saw when I went to sleep. They were with me every single waking hour of every single day for two weeks. They never sugar coated anything. If I had a question, mom would answer it (neurosurgery was her forte at work). The one thing I never saw from them was a tear. Not once did I see them cry, although I know that they were worried sick.
I would be remiss if I did not thank my brother & 2 sisters for fending for themselves and putting up with my parents for this time period (I’m sure they were emotional train-wrecks).
And finally, I HAVE to thank the three people who made sure I am still around today:
Dr Keith Chambers (my GP)
Dr Michael Jones (my neurologist)
Dr Donald Griesdale (my neurosurgeon)
Without ANY of the people listed above, the outcome could have been much different than what it is.
Thank you all.