Book Entry 200: 1992 My Dad's Brain Surgery

             After searching for several years to find the cause of dads dizzy spells and cold sweats the doctor finally had tests done on dads brain.  I saw the X-ray of his brain.  His eyeballs and skull showed up on the X-ray.  Behind the eyeballs, directly in the middle, a tumor showed up.  Eyeballs look huge on a frontal X-ray but that tumor was so big it showed up above, below and on both side of the eyes.  It was gigantic.

          We scheduled the surgery for the following week.  When dad asked one of the nurses how soon he would be able to drive after the surgery she rudely said, “Well, we will have to see how much of you there is left won’t we.”  I think she thought she was funny.  Maybe she was just stupid.  Dad had been coping pretty well until she made that statement.  After that he was really scared.  We all were. 

          The doctor explained dad’s tumor was sitting on his olfactory nerve.  It is a part of the brain that controls many things.  It was possible for dad to loose his sight, his smell, his memory, use of one or both sides, his sense of touch, or his ability to hear.  It was then we learned dad had already lost his senses of smell.  It was then the doctor told us that although the tumor had possibly been slowly growing for sixty years or more it was imperative it needed to be removed immediately.

          I will never forget the drive to the hospital the morning of the surgery.  Dad drove.  Our drive to Modesto was facing a beautiful full moon.  Dad kept saying it might be the last full moon he ever saw.  He drove very slowly.  We arrived at the hospital and parked, he walked very slowly.  He held mom’s hand.  He whispered things to her I couldn’t hear.  She had tears running down her cheeks.  When we were waiting to be checked in he let others go before us.

          Finally when he was signing himself in he dropped the ink pen.  He looked at mom.  “I hope that’s not an omen.” He said.

          We waited with dad in pre-op.  When dad’s turn came the nurse called us all together saying, “Okay everyone, it’s time to come say good-by to Mr. Starn.”  The words stung.  I couldn’t help but give her an annoyed glance.  I wondered why people in the medical profession said so many stupid things!

          We met the doctor on his way into surgery.  I told him we would be praying for him to do the best he had been trained for, to have a steady hand, and to have total recall of all he’d learned.  He looked at me and said, “I will do my best but I can’t promise to fix your dad.”  I answered him without hesitation, “I know you can only do what you’ve been taught but you didn’t make my dad in the first place.  The One who did make him will be with you both in there.  I am asking He help you both.”

          We got updates hourly on dad’s progress.  "He’s under now."  "Surgery has started."  "The skull plate has been removed."  "We are making our way to the tumor."  "Everything is going as well as we could hope for."  "We are closing now." "Mr. Starn has survived and gone into recovery."

          About three hours after the surgery had begun Larry saw an orderly come from the surgery area and start walking down the hall.  In his hand was some sort of dish and in the Petri dish was something that looked like the biggest skinned tomatoes he’d ever seen.  It was dad’s tumor.

          It was about five in the evening when the doctor came out to tell us the surgery was finished.  He had a sheepish look on his face.  He walked straight to me.  I held my hand out to shake his and thank him.  When he touched my hand he grabbed it and pulled me into a hug.  His face was beaming.  He said, "Well, I believe in prayer now!  That surgery was textbook.  I tape all my surgeries.  Mr. Starn’s surgery went so well I will use it when I teach other surgeons.”

          When we asked how dad was doing the doctor said he tolerated the surgery well.  He also said dad would probably not be awake until the following morning suggesting it had been a long day for all of us and we should probably go home.  Instead we walked to a restaurant about a block away, had dinner, and returned.  As we walked into the hospital we were met by the doctor who was just leaving.  “You won’t believe this, Mr. Starn is already stirring.  You can go see him.  He won’t respond today but you can see him.”

          What a relief!  We went to his room.  He appeared to be sleeping.  He was moaning.  The nurse said even under sedation he would moan but he wouldn’t remember the pain.  We all were greatly relieved.  We all went home and slept.  We all slept well after not sleeping much the nights before the surgery.

          Early the next morning I picked mom up and we went back to the hospital.  When we entered the room we thought was dad’s there was someone else there.  That sent a frightening chill down our backs as we left for the nurses station to inquire about where dad was.  “He’s still in the same room.” the nurse told us.  We went back.  Sure enough!  The man we mistakenly identified as an older, fatter, Chinese man was dad.  His head now had a different bandage, his face was so swollen it was distorted, and his eyes looked tiny and misplaced.  But…it was dad! 

          I had a note from Justin’s baseball team saying they were dedicating the game later that day to dad.  I went to the bulletin board and tacked it up for dad to see later.  It was then I heard a familiar voice say, “Hi sweetie, whatever that is put it closer I can’t see that far away.”  Dad knew me  He could see what I was doing.  He could speak.  He could remember. 

          Mom was standing beside dad.  She wanted to kiss him and touch him but he was so swollen and looked so miserable she dared not.  We only stayed a few minutes.  We had the comfort we needed.  We went into the main waiting room and sat.  At that time mom was using a walker.  We knew staying in dad’s room would cause him to stay awake.  When he was awake he hurt so we wanted him to sleep.  About every two hours for the next several days we checked on dad.  We only left the hospital long enough to eat.  Dad made a wonderful recovery.  God is so good.  We had dad with us for another ten years.