Hey friends, I made it out of emergency brain surgery on May 18.
This whole thing started back in January, when I slipped on the ice on my own driveway while rushing to open the door for the kids because it was freezing outside. Which is funny in retrospect because not only did that absolutely not help them spend less time in the cold (much the opposite), it almost turned them into orphans, so it makes you think about the value of rushing around all the time. Especially for someone with the coordination of a newborn giraffe like me.
I hit my head hard and got a concussion. I did a CT scan that showed no further problems and recovered after a few weeks. But over the past couple of weeks things went downhill. The strongest headaches I’d ever felt just wouldn’t go away, followed by weakness in my legs, difficulty standing, and the very real feeling that I was dying. I could barely hold a cup of coffee because it was too heavy. I also got dismissed by my family doctor who, without any tests, told me it was stress and hormones because, you know, “perimenopause and being a working mom of 3 is so demanding.”
I wanted that explanation to be true. But I knew something was very wrong.
Everything changed in a few hours
I finally dragged myself to the ER on Sunday, where they did another CT scan and discovered that I had developed a chronic subdural hematoma, a slow accumulation of blood between my brain and skull caused by the fall months earlier. I was losing movement on my left side and needed emergency surgery, so they transferred me in an ambulance to a bigger hospital.
It was terrifying and I didn’t have any time to process the news, but also ticking ambulance ride off my list of weird life experiences now. (It’s so crazy fast. The whole time I felt like I was on a jet boat. Kinda fun actually.)
The neurosurgeon told me there was so much blood built up that it started oozing out as soon as he drilled into my skull, which is a pretty aggressive way to gain perspective on life and a fun detail for a horror movie fan like me. He also said I probably wouldn’t have survived the next day if I hadn’t looked for help when I did.
The experience has been surreal. One minute you’re answering work emails and worrying about daycare logistics and the next people are shaving your head while explaining surgery risks and asking your choice of religious last rites in case something goes wrong.
A new perspective
This whole ordeal also cracked something in my sense of time. You spend your whole life assuming there will always be a “later.” Later to rest, later to write the thing, later to call people back, later to enjoy your life properly. Then suddenly your brain shuts down and the perspective of death becomes aggressively close.
I was discharged from the hospital yesterday and being with Thiago again on the wheelchair ride to the car, with wind blowing on my face and seeing all the flowers and greenery after what felt like an endless winter, was one of the best feelings I’ve ever experienced and one I hope to remember forever.
My parents arrived from Brazil yesterday to help take care of me and the kids after panic-buying last-minute flights when they heard what was happening. No matter how old you are, having your parents around when something terrible happens gives you a very specific kind of safety. Suddenly your nervous system is like “oh thank God, the adults are here.”
Speaking of God, this experience also reminded me very deeply of the love of Jesus expressed through people. Through prayers, messages, the care of angels disguised as medical teams, childcare help, friends checking in, my parents flying across continents overnight, and the kind of care that shows up instantly when things fall apart. I’ve felt held in ways I won’t ever forget.
Back home
I’m home now recovering slowly and painfully, heavily medicated, crying lots, feeling weirdly emotional about flowers blooming, fresh air, sunlight, my kids yelling and punching each other, and being alive in a way that feels both deep and embarrassingly cheesy.
Also, I don’t fail to see the irony that I was literally preparing to launch a children’s book called My Busy Builder Brain earlier this month before needing actual brain surgery. The title has acquired a whole new meaning now and it cracks me up when I think about it.
Anyway. Thank you so much for all the love and support these past few days. I’m exhausted but I’m still here and that’s pretty great.
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Disclaimer: I’m sharing my personal experience, not medical advice here. If you’ve had a head injury and develop worsening headaches, weakness, confusion, or other concerning symptoms, seek medical attention immediately.
