It’s not brain surgery

It’s not brain surgery

I did a bad thing. Almost two months ago, I wrote a column, sharing with all of you that Husband #1 had fallen, had a concussion, but was doing okay.

Wouldn’t you know it, but only a few hours after I submitted that column, which was more than a week since he had fallen, his symptoms started getting worse. Then his father went into the hospital. Then he couldn’t fly to Florida to see his father, because his repeat CAT scan showed spinal fluid where it shouldn’t be. So poor Husband #1, who didn’t want to worry his mother, had to make up a work excuse for why he couldn’t fly down to be with her and his dad.

Nothing could have made him sadder.

Then he went for another scan and another doctor’s appointment, where he was told that he could fly. Fortunately, that is where the Hatzolah Air story of two weeks ago came in, and Husband #1 did not have to fly anywhere.

So then, as you know, his dad died. Husband #1 sat shiva, and then, last week, he had a another scheduled CAT scan, just to make sure that the fluid was going away on its own. He went to work. I went to babysit my 7-year-old bff with my sometimes assistant Little Strudel (aka Gd#1).  I decide to FaceTime Husband #1, so the girls could see him. “How was the CAT scan?” I asked nonchalantly, because we were so sure that things were moving in the right direction.

“Well, they wouldn’t let me leave, because they saw blood on the scan and the doctor wanted to talk to me.”

You know how in the movies you see the character totally space out when someone is telling them bad news? Well, sign me up for an Oscar nomination. He was telling me this bad news and I was with my 7-year-old bff and my Little Strudel trying to comprehend the words brain, bleed, drilling in the skull, moving up appointments. But I got it all together, finished helping my bff with her homework and then went home to Husband #1 to find out WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON HERE??????

Sometimes this happens. Sometimes, weeks after a bad fall on your head, there can be blood vessels that very slowly leak blood. Who knew? Well, now you know. And because the blood was accumulating, Husband #1’s headaches were getting worse, and they needed to do the procedure pretty much immediately. So with new technology comes new ways of helping someone out in this predicament. The doctor made it sound like he would be up and out of the hospital and back to work in no time — though he was very clear that there was only an 80 percent chance that this procedure would work and that it isn’t “curative.”

Which I now know means that this procedure didn’t remove the blood that is there. No, it just zapped up the blood vessels around that area to prevent more blood from ending up there. (I do not believe that zapped is a medical term, so don’t quote me to your neighborhood neurosurgeon, unless you know the one we used and he will explain it to you.) The hope is that the blood that was already there will be absorbed on its own and eventually, no time limit given, the headaches will be better.

This means there are many CAT scans in Husband #1’s future. Aren’t you glad you know that? Anyway, when the procedure was over, I have never seen anyone in so much pain. “The Tylenol must not be working,” the lovely surgical ICU nurse said. “Really? You don’t think?…” I wanted to be nice, really I did, but seeing someone you love in so much agony will make a person testy. I don’t know what my excuse is the rest of the time, but we can get back to that later.

In any event, Thank God, Husband #1 did come home for Shabbos. His amazing midwestern friend organized a minyan and a Torah for our home so Husband #1 could say kaddish for his father and hear zachor. It was beautiful.

Unfortunately, I don’t think that Megillah Man will be up to reading the megillah this year, which is really so sad. It the first time in about 38 years that he won’t be turning into the nicest Jewish superhero around. But with prayers, love, support, and a topnotch wife, and God’s Help, Megillah Man will be back in tip top shape in no time. Please. Please. Please.

Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck really cannot believe what her poor husband has been through these past few months. And looks forward to the present she will be getting when husband #1 is all better….because it really is all about her. Happy Birthday Husband #1….. We love you!

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