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Name: Michelle
Location: Washington D.C., United States
Interests: God, Cedarville University, teasing my friends, social work, Tyler (my nephew), friends, Chuck's, collecting hospital bracelets (don't ask)
Expertise: being Michelle ;)
Occupation: Student
Industry: Other
Message: message meEmail: email me
Member Since:
5/17/2004
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| As the hours passed and I lay in a hospital bed in the anesthesia recovery unit, slipping in & out of consciousness, I started to notice that most of the people in the unit had been moved. I managed to ask the nurse who was caring for me why I was still there.
"Umm... we can't find a bed."
She looked away from me as she said this, and at the time I was too out of it to ask any further questions.
Unaware of how long it had taken me to wake up, I finally was told after what seemed like forever that a bed had been found. Great, let's go! I was wheeled up to the Neurology unit in the hospital in my bed, my oxygen was put back on, and I was given THE BUTTON!
Yes, that wonderful button that you can press to make pain medication come out of your IV. That button & I were wonderful friends! 
I suddenly became aware that my hair was missing on one side of my head. This was expected - you have to shave the hair away to do brain surgery - but for some reason, this really upset me. (The picture is one that is the least graphic, it covers the 2 incisions on my head & makes me look a little less bald than I truly am. My hair was held in the position shown with really hard stuff for a full week to prevent it from getting stuck on the incision & lessen my chance of infection.) However, I was soon asleep and blissfully unaware of the true extent of my condition. After lots of medications were put into my IV, I drifted off to sleep for the night, awakened only for the hourly vitals checks.
It was the next morning when I finally was able to ask my parents why it was dark when I was taken to my room, and why all the other patients got to leave the recovery unit so long before I did. They told me something that really shook me up.
"Michelle, honey, you wouldn't wake up. They took the tube out & you were breathing on your own, but you just wouldn't wake up for them."
"How long was I under?" I asked, knowing I should've been awake by lunch time.
"Well... you were out until it was dark out, I'm not sure when that was, maybe 4 or 5."
"WHAT?"
At the time, it was surprising, but not too concerning. It wasn't until later that day that I realized the consequences of not waking up would be.
Later that day, I attempted to read to distract myself.
PROBLEM: I could see the words, I knew what they were, but I couldn't put them together. They didn't make sense to me.
Alarmed, I told my nurse what the problem was and she said, "Oh, it'll be alright, you're still recovery from the anesthesia. Give it a few more hours, maybe even wait until tomorrow."
Although I was still worried, I decided that the nurse knew more about it than I did and decided to watch the TV I was provided with next to my bed... when I was awake, that is. 
Later that evening, my roommate - who was AMAZING - had lots of family over in our room. My parents came in right after her group arrived, and tried to talk to me.
I couldn't talk.
I could SAY things... but unless it was COMPLETELY, 100% quiet, I got overwhelmed with the noises around me and all I could get out was, "Shh!"
It took me over a minute to say, "I can't do this."
At that point, I was thoroughly freaked out!
Others may have been glad that I'd shut up for a change; quiet + Michelle = no. But as for me, I was completely freaked out. And my parents weren't exactly nonchalant either.
I was completely coherent in the sense that I could think perfectly rationally; I was a bit slow, but I was still recovering from the anesthesia and was loaded on painkillers through my IV. The problem was that I couldn't say what I was thinking, I couldn't get those thoughts out, I couldn't express anything... and I couldn't read, either. Writing wasn't happening, and even when I physically could move the pen, I couldn't put the letters together.
The hospital decided not to discharge me that day... I'd been told one to two nights, and they were going for two. I didn't know that I wouldn't be going home the next day, either... or that the term "irreversible brain damage" would be spoken to me so unexpectedly.
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Part 5 - Crisis - coming in the next couple of days!  | | |
| As I slowly opened my eyes, I found myself staring at a ceiling I was unfamiliar with. It took a few moments for me to realize where I was - in the anesthesia recovery unit. The nurse to my left, who was assigned to me & one other patient on the other side of her & all the monitors, asked how I was feeling.
"Like someone just drilled into my skull and cut into my brain."
She laughed. I tried... and that's when I realized the SEARING pain in my abdomen. I knew I'd have an incision there, but despite having had a hernia operation as a child, the pain was so much worse than I'd imagined - even worse than the pain in my head!!!
Little did I know that this laugh wasn't just about my comment... I would only find out later that it had taken me far too long to wake up - as there were no windows in the unit, I had no way of knowing it was already dark out even though I should've been awake by lunch time - and everyone breathed a sigh of relief when I was finally conscious.
Suddenly, an alarm started going off. I tried to turn my head to look at it, but realized I COULDN'T. The tubing running under my skin from the top of my head all the way down to my abdomen was tight and as it rubbed against my bones it was extremely painful.
So I did the only thing a 22-year-old could do. I asked for my Mommy! 
"Not yet. Two hours awake, then your parents."
I wanted to argue, but was far too tired. I fell asleep and when I woke up, I once again asked for my parents. I was having difficulty talking, which I later found out was related to the complications I was having, but at the time I was too out of it to notice.
I'll NEVER forget when my parents got to my side. I heard my Mom say my name in a way I'd never heard it said before... almost like a question, like I could hear her saying so much just in the way she said my name, almost begging me to say something - ANYTHING - to show her I was okay, that the brain surgery part of it didn't take her daughter away from her, that I was still me.
"Michelle?"
"Hi Mom. I was asking for you!"
"Thank you dear Lord! Hey sweetie, how are you feeling? Do you recognize all of us?"
It was then that I noticed my stepdad adjusting the nasal cannula delivering oxygen to my body. "Yes, Earl is messing with me. I can't catch a break."
I don't remember what happened next... only that I fell asleep and woke up again to my Uncle and Grandma at my side, still in the recovery unit.
At that point, I was too weak & in too much pain to talk. They kissed my forehead and left.
It was then that I started to realize something was wrong... very, very wrong.
**************
Part 4 - COMPLICATIONS - coming very soon!
my-path-to-healing.blogspot.com
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| So much has happened since I last updated. I've called a few people to tell them what's up, but it just hasn't been said. And, frankly, it's 3:40am and I'm not about to try to type something like this out logically right now. It's too important.
But what I WILL say... what I HAVE to say... is that I'm alive in Christ at a time when my physical life seems to be "up in the air." Right now, as I type, my immune system is crashing - something we're doing intentionally in a bid to help me, but something that has its dangers, especially with the shunt in place. There are so many other things complicating it - I'll try to explain soon - but for right now, I just want to praise the Lord.
Praise Jesus... praise Him.
I no longer fear death... in death comes true life. This is different from when I was suicidal & simply wanted to give up on life - I WANT to live now. But maturing over the past year has taught me that what I WANT and what REALITY is are two very different things, and only God determines what my path will be. Perhaps I've been put here "for such a time as this."
I've known my whole life I'd die young. Call me crazy, call me morbid, but I've told very close friends of these... well... not premonitions, but just somehow KNOWING that I'd never be old, my whole life.
Maybe that was God's way of preparing me for such a time as this.
Medically speaking, I should already be dead. But I am very much alive.
My life doesn't look like yours. I live my life in bed, on medications, and leave only to see doctors. My world consists of hospitals and specialists, of waivers and assuming risks, of medications that do a little bit of harm for every bit of good. I can identify not only which vein is best for IV lines, but what size/type of needle they need to use.
But MY LIFE IS NO LESS WONDERFUL.
I've learned things, seen things, you'll never dream of. I only hope I live long enough to share that with others. Mostly, I want to teach others that when God is in control, it's okay... that when you love, you love forever & unconditionally... and that where there is disease, there is healing, one way or another.
When I was kidnapped 8 years ago, I thought I'd never smile again, if I survived at all. Now, I have a relationship with my abusers. I can love & forgive them in a way that defies worldly understanding - and this is not of me but of the One within me.
Sometimes I hate my life. But those times pass when I realize how much I have. Do I want to get better? Of course - I don't know anyone who would choose this. HOWEVER...
I AM OKAY WITH NOT GETTING BETTER.
I've accepted that maybe God, in His infinite wisdom, has allowed such pain (mental, emotional, and physical) throughout my life "for such a time as this."
Have you ever heard doctors tell you that they didn't know if you'd be alive an hour from then? Not many of you have... but I've heard it more than once. I've said goodbye without saying goodbye before being wheeled into surgery, knowing I may come out as a vegetable... at the age of 22, I'd taken care of things most people wouldn't even have come across their minds until they were retired & grown old.
I've lost enough in my short life to know that nothing is guaranteed. I've also learned that the ONLY thing that is certain is Jesus. God is ETERNAL. Nothing can - nothing will - ever change that. I hope to heal every wound possible with others before it's too late... but I rest knowing that at the end of the day, all I can do is my best, and ultimately I'll see them in Heaven and it'll all be okay. We'll be okay.
If I do not continue to grow with you, remember that my life is more full even in emptiness than a person could ever even dream of hoping for. Remember that in Him, NOTHING is impossible.
Nothing.
If only I could show you everything He has shown me in my 22 years... there simply aren't words enough in the world to convey the depth of His love, greatness, glory, peace, and wisdom.
Please pray for me. For healing, of course... but for continued faith that, no matter what, even in the face of death, I know I face nothing but life.
Even in the face of death, I am facing nothing but life.
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| After a short time of prayer with my pastors, my mother & I were taken back to a curtained-off room in the pre-op area, just outside the operating rooms. I answered a few basic questions, was told not to go anywhere (which I laughed at) and then my Mom and I were on our own, waiting for my surgery. I was holding up surprisingly well! As you can see by the picture below, although I had no make-up and was exhuasted at 6:30am after already being up quite awhile, I wasn't upset at all and was actually my usual, joking-around self. Note the super-comfortable bed & designer gown.
A little while later, an anesthesiologist came in and started talking to me. He asked if we had any questions and confirmed a few things. I was handed yet another clipboard and asked to sign.
"What is this?" I asked.
"It says you might die."
Talk about blunt! That was when it hit me. I was going in for brain surgery and there were unknowns, there were major risks.
I signed and within a minute or two, I made some joke about something and we were all laughing again.
A pain management specialist came in and started an IV line. They put some Morphine in, which they said was standard procedure as it usually makes the patient fall asleep before they even get to the Operating Room (OR from here on out). One slight problem: I'm the most drug-resistant person in the world. I was WIDE AWAKE and talking non-stop, making them laugh pretty hard while they did a few final things.
One particular surgical nurse said, "I'm Michele too! But I only have one L." Anyone named Michelle always has the debate with others who share the name how many is best, and this time was no exception. She said, "I'll be looking out for you in there." For some reason, that was reassuring to me.
Before I knew it, about 8 people swarmed into my room and said, "Let's go!" It was time to say goodbye to my Mom, but we agreed not to actually use that term. She got a worried look on her face. I sat up, grabbed her hand through the railing, and said, "I'll see you soon. It's gonna be okay. You're the best Mom in the world, and I love you so much."
Her exact words to me are personal - one of the few details I won't go into on here - but she told me she loved me and she held my hand until they told her to let go. "We'll take good care of her in there."
"You better."
They all looked at me and tried to reassure me. "Why are you acting like I should be sad? Let's get this thing done! I wanna feel better!" At that moment, we crossed into the OR.
My next words were SO me: "Hey, this does NOT look the same as on Grey's Anatomy!"
Everyone was laughing so hard. We went around the room while they continued getting things ready, saying who our favorite Grey's character is. As I was still fully alert (Morphine shmorphine) I was able to slide myself onto the operating table unassisted. THAT was weird.
My arms were laid straight out at each side, perpendicular to my body, and strapped down. My head was tilted to the side so they could shave it once I fell asleep. Suddenly, the mask with the anesthesia was on my face. For some reason, they put it on, had me take a couple of breaths, took it off, and repeated it rather than just holding it down and having me fall asleep like they did when I had a hernia operation when I was 6.
I was getting VEEEEEEEEEEEERY SLEEEEEEEEEEPY.
Silently praying, I asked God to guide each of these people as they tried to heal me. I asked for protection. I asked for healing, and I asked for peace.
At one point, I stopped continuing to talk as soon as they lifted the mask off my face. The anesthesiologist would say my name rather loudly to get my attention, and eventually I'd respond - I could HEAR them, but I couldn't make myself respond immediately. The gas was taking effect.
Suddenly, I felt Nurse Michele's hand in mine.
"I'm gonna look out for you, okay? You're being so brave, you're doing so good."
A tear slid down my cheek.
"Okay, Lord. I'm ready."
With that, the mask pressed firmly against my face, I took a deep breath.
***********
Part 3 - waking up - to come in the next day or so...
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| Sorry, Part 2 will have to wait til Sunday. But I added the pictures to Part 1 & re-posted it so you could catch up if you missed it!
On December 4th, 2008, I woke up to my rather annoying alarm and allowed myself to lay there for a moment. "God, please don't let this be the last time I wake up in my own bed." The thought surprised me, because I'd been doing fairly well emotionally as far as the surgery and had been able to keep my fears somewhat in check. I threw my clothes on, grabbed the bag I'd packed for the hospital, and my parents & I started the drive to the hospital. They stopped for coffee, and I was sad because I was SO thirsty & hungry - but no food or drink for me, not even water, not until I was cleared after surgery.
We arrived at Inova Fairfax Hospital rather early - I want to say it was about 5:45am, and my "check-in" time for surgery prep was 6:30am. As Earl dropped Mom & I off at the door of the Surgery Center, I took a picture. "Blogging!" I told my Mom. She rolled her eyes, laughed, and we walked in. I signed in, was given a stack of papers, and the receptionist handed me a pager. "When this goes off, come to the door." I went to the seating area and began filling out papers.
Eventually Earl got back, and my Grandma and Uncle Ralph arrived. I don't know why... I told them they didn't need to come, it was 6am for crying out loud!!!!!! But they came anyway. My Grandma was afraid I was going to die. I tried to reassure her.
More pictures. The people across from us looked at me like I was crazy.
IF THEY ONLY KNEW!!!
I explained that it was for blogging, they laughed, and we traded "Why are YOU here?" explanations. Finally, the pager went off. After hugs & kisses, my Mom and I went to the door and met the nurse. "Michelle Baker?" "Yes, ma'am." "And who is this?" "This is my mother. She's coming with me." She didn't really look like she knew how to respond to that, but we'd been told I could have 1 person with me, and she took us back. I was handed the oh-so-fashionable gown and went into the bathroom to change.
When I came out, there was Pastor King!!!!!!!!!! At 6:30am!!!!!! He'd brought along the college leader from our church, who graduated from Cedarville a few years back. We had a time of prayer, right there in the hallway. It was very good. I thank God that they made it there when they did.
Then it was off to a curtained-off room, where it was time to sign more papers & wait...
...just like you have to wait for Part 2!
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