of Louiseâs brain so that no one will ever have to worry about it bleeding again.
â¢
Claude is not here, and Janet hates Claude for this. Her own boyfriend isnât here and she hates him, too. She broke up with him after he told her he couldnât come, right there in the hospital lounge. There had been no unkind words or crying. She feels like she is able to do things now, easily, cleanly, and induce no pain on herself whatsoever. She is like a janitor at the clinic who sweeps up a pile of dirt and tosses it into the garbage. It had taken place in a matter of seconds.
â¢
The morning of the surgery, Janet, Louise, and the rest of the family get up when it is still dark and walk across the street from the hotel to the clinic. It is a commanding place, a huge block of red brick. They carry water bottles and books. Louise uses her cane.
Janet had spent a lot of time in the hotel bathroom that morning, staring at the mini soaps and shampoos in the shower. She thought about how Louise had been getting better, able to bathe without help, bracing herself against the sides of the stall. Louise will be in bad shape for a while after the operation. The surgeon has told them this. There are no guarantees that the operation will work at all. For instance, removing the cavernous angioma might damage the neurons that control the function of swallowing. That would mean that she would have to be fed through a tube. Forever. And if the nerve connectors are damaged, she will have to be hooked up to a machine that will push the breath in and out. It will be plugged into an electrical outlet. She will have to stay in a bed, or a chair, connected by a cord that comes out of a wall. It wonât be like now, how she can go up and down stairs. How she can hold a knife to cut cheese. How she can shake crackers out of a bag.
The surgeon assures them that all of this is unlikely. It is almost certain that swallowing will not be a problem, his assistants say. Or breathing. They say the operation will be worth it.
â¢
It takes three elevators to get to the small, steel room where a woman has them sign life and death papers. Should something go horribly wrong, who would decide whether or not to keep the patient alive? Louise just sits there.
Janet helps Louise into a hospital gown. They forgot to bring an extra bag, so Janet stuffs Louiseâs regular clothes into her purse. Janet covers Louiseâs feet with nonskid socks. She helps Louise into a hairnet. Louise says nothing, does nothing, lets Janet do it all.
In pre-op, the nurse leads Louise to a gurney and helps her lie down. The room is large and white and Janet stands close by. Louise stares at the ceiling squares, eyes wide. There are many others lying here, too, probably fifty of them with blankets covering their legs, waiting to be wheeled off tosurgery. Nurses quietly ask questions and consult clipboards. The surgeon comes by. He has on red fleece socks and leather sandals that buckle. A mask covers his mouth. He writes on Louiseâs forehead with a Sharpie: craniotomy.
When he leaves, Janet bends over and hugs her daughter. She kisses the word, covers it with her cheek.
â¢
The surgeon and his assistants shave a back strip of Louiseâs head and use a saw to open a bone flap in Louiseâs skull. This is a âsuboccipital craniotomy.â They want to find the cavernous angioma and cut it out, and then they want to seal the veins together again so there is no more bleeding. But they canât find it. They take a tiny camera inside and see only healthy brain. All they see is Jell-O. No prize.
They sew her head back up. They will have to wait another day before they can go back in again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
W arner has brought a stack of books to read but opens none. Instead, he walks laps around the hospital. The place is huge. If he adds a visit to the library and ducks outside to get some air, he can spend a good hour in motion, which
â¢
Claude is not here, and Janet hates Claude for this. Her own boyfriend isnât here and she hates him, too. She broke up with him after he told her he couldnât come, right there in the hospital lounge. There had been no unkind words or crying. She feels like she is able to do things now, easily, cleanly, and induce no pain on herself whatsoever. She is like a janitor at the clinic who sweeps up a pile of dirt and tosses it into the garbage. It had taken place in a matter of seconds.
â¢
The morning of the surgery, Janet, Louise, and the rest of the family get up when it is still dark and walk across the street from the hotel to the clinic. It is a commanding place, a huge block of red brick. They carry water bottles and books. Louise uses her cane.
Janet had spent a lot of time in the hotel bathroom that morning, staring at the mini soaps and shampoos in the shower. She thought about how Louise had been getting better, able to bathe without help, bracing herself against the sides of the stall. Louise will be in bad shape for a while after the operation. The surgeon has told them this. There are no guarantees that the operation will work at all. For instance, removing the cavernous angioma might damage the neurons that control the function of swallowing. That would mean that she would have to be fed through a tube. Forever. And if the nerve connectors are damaged, she will have to be hooked up to a machine that will push the breath in and out. It will be plugged into an electrical outlet. She will have to stay in a bed, or a chair, connected by a cord that comes out of a wall. It wonât be like now, how she can go up and down stairs. How she can hold a knife to cut cheese. How she can shake crackers out of a bag.
The surgeon assures them that all of this is unlikely. It is almost certain that swallowing will not be a problem, his assistants say. Or breathing. They say the operation will be worth it.
â¢
It takes three elevators to get to the small, steel room where a woman has them sign life and death papers. Should something go horribly wrong, who would decide whether or not to keep the patient alive? Louise just sits there.
Janet helps Louise into a hospital gown. They forgot to bring an extra bag, so Janet stuffs Louiseâs regular clothes into her purse. Janet covers Louiseâs feet with nonskid socks. She helps Louise into a hairnet. Louise says nothing, does nothing, lets Janet do it all.
In pre-op, the nurse leads Louise to a gurney and helps her lie down. The room is large and white and Janet stands close by. Louise stares at the ceiling squares, eyes wide. There are many others lying here, too, probably fifty of them with blankets covering their legs, waiting to be wheeled off tosurgery. Nurses quietly ask questions and consult clipboards. The surgeon comes by. He has on red fleece socks and leather sandals that buckle. A mask covers his mouth. He writes on Louiseâs forehead with a Sharpie: craniotomy.
When he leaves, Janet bends over and hugs her daughter. She kisses the word, covers it with her cheek.
â¢
The surgeon and his assistants shave a back strip of Louiseâs head and use a saw to open a bone flap in Louiseâs skull. This is a âsuboccipital craniotomy.â They want to find the cavernous angioma and cut it out, and then they want to seal the veins together again so there is no more bleeding. But they canât find it. They take a tiny camera inside and see only healthy brain. All they see is Jell-O. No prize.
They sew her head back up. They will have to wait another day before they can go back in again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
W arner has brought a stack of books to read but opens none. Instead, he walks laps around the hospital. The place is huge. If he adds a visit to the library and ducks outside to get some air, he can spend a good hour in motion, which
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