Written in Ink
Written in Ink
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Here, sort of

Surgery didn’t go as planned. Nothing went wrong but they had to do a lot more than they planned. The tumor had over grown 75% into my skull at points. So now. I have titanium mesh in a large area and hip bone connected to my cheek bone.

Until the swelling goes down, I’m going to make my way in this world as a model for those melting face clocks. Who knows there could be good money in that.

Illustration for article titled Here, sort of

As pain and emotions go, I am ready to murder my nurses at any moment. I’ve met with my surgeon’s resident at the hospital the past 4 days - I’m sure before, too but I was in ICU then. Since then, each shift change of nurses changes up how they want to give me medicine, prescribed by my doctors. Oh. You don’t need those together. But you just had this, so let’s wait a while. The doctors gave me times and staggering medicines: Percocet, 2 hours later dilaudid, 2 hours later Percocet. They won’t give them to me for 3 or 4 hours or will give me half of the dosage. Then I start crying because of the burning pain and then the crying makes it worse. Making it worse makes me ask for morphine in my IV, which keeps me at the hospital longer.


The occupational therapist caught it today while the nurse was in here and I was sobbing. The nurse was just going about her business, asking if I wanted my laxative in water or apple juice. The occupational therapist called the head clinical nurse for the hospital and now supposedly things are going to go right until I go home.

We’ll see. Regardless, I am ready to be home.

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