To say the next 10 days were a blur is an understatement. I was told that I would improve after the surgery for about a year. After that time period, improvements would be more rare. My husband and I were warned that it was possible that I would behave inappropriately. “How inappropriately?”, I asked. “Well, going to the grocery store without clothes on, for example” he replied. I am not a Victoria”s Secret model. Clothes at the grocery store are always a plus. That was the least inappropriate thing he mentioned. Fan-tastic. The surgery was outlined to me and my husband. “It’s basically the same surgery your father used to perform back in the 40’s. The difference is antibiotics.” They would cut my scalp from ear to ear, fold my face down on itself and start drilling and then saw.
My husband, a cardiologist, looked pleadingly at the neurosurgeon and asked, “Are you sure? Maybe there’s a mistake.”
“Look at her face , Bob. If I passed her on the street, I’d know.”