Jeff's brain surgery

Wednesday and Friday.

This story begins with a happy ending: Jeff is home and doing extremely well.

He had brain surgery on Monday, March 3, to remove a chronic subdural hematoma. Blood and fluid pooled in his brain. It was labeled chronic because it built up over time, causing a delayed, gradual onset of symptoms -- until the tipping point. Doctors believe it stems from a prior acute head trauma, most likely Jeff's ice skating fall on Dec. 26. (Nothing else fits!) On that day we took him to the ER where he got stitches on the back of his head. We thought nothing more of it.

During the last week or so of February Jeff was tired and had headaches. Yet who could say that wasn't caused by his busy workload, late nights and getting up regularly at 5 a.m. for his commute? That's what he thought. Plus, he was on a hypertension medication with drowsiness as a recognized side effect. Last week he told me he felt his speech was slurred when he was tired, so he took to going to bed quite early. He also tried taking his hypertension medicine at a different time of the day to try and offset feeling as fatigued during office hours.

I first noticed speech difficulties on Saturday. It took Jeff several attempts to say "In a minute." He mixed up the N and M sounds and was frustrated, but he carried on. He didn't initiate any more conversation. Dare I mention he was driving us to Logan?

We had a family party that night that Jeff's dad did not attend because he works in the temple. The next morning, Sunday, I asked Jeff how he felt as soon as we woke up. "Fine!" he said automatically. The phone rang in the kitchen. This is what I heard of Jeff's side of the conversation:

"Oh, hi. How are you? ...  Yeah, good, except I can't use my hand ... Really?! OK." Click.

Then, "Jenni! You need to take me to the hospital."

I am forever grateful that his dad called and urged Jeff to the hospital. I believe he was inspired.

 At the ER. Still in jeans and shoes.

We left in a rush, opening sleepy Kyle's door as we went down the hall to tell him where we were going. I called a friend who came to the hospital with another neighbor to give Jeff a blessing. Jeff and I will forever remember the sacred promises therein. Jeff had an MRI, which showed the hematoma, and the hospital prepared to transfer him to a facility where Jeff could be seen by a neurosurgeon.

Kyle was very worried. I'm sure the other kids were, too, but Kyle is the most vocal. I know how he frets when he feels powerless, so I asked him to bring a phone charger to the ER. Then, when we learned Jeff would be transferred, I sent Kyle on an errand to gas up the truck for me. He wanted to stay throughout, but we asked him to be the source of strength for his siblings and be with them. There was still so much we simply did not know.

I went home to retrieve some of Jeff's things while he was transported by ambulance. I almost broke down during the drive, just a little bit!, but I told myself I had to stay strong for the kids. I intercepted my children leaving for church (so proud of them!) and gave them all hugs.

Jeff's parents, brother and sister met us at the second hospital. My parents were in St. George, five hours away, visiting my brother and his family. My mom, dad, sister-in-law and her two young daughters made swift arrangements to come north. Jeff's dad and his brother gave him another blessing. Our bishop came by (I feigned shock that he had left Sunday School, he said he could leave church whenever he wants) and gave me a blessing, too.

At first it was a pleasant afternoon of family jokes and chatter while we waited for the neurosurgeon. Jeff's speech difficulties and hand numbness were intermittent, his headaches weren't too bad, and he otherwise felt fine. He felt inconvenienced more than anything else. Then came the grand mal seizure. I choose not to describe it because I am still trying to purge my mind of the haunting images. Jeff's dad (a doctor) jumped into action and maintained Jeff's airway. His mother held my hand as we stood at the foot of Jeff's bed, watching helplessly. When nurses remarked on Jeff's dad's role he said simply, "He's my little boy."

Jeff had a CT scan after the seizure stopped. Then the doctor arrived and outlined the surgery for the next day: drilling two holes and draining. The surgeon said that the hematoma did not have an ongoing source of blood, which was good. The initial blood from the trauma, rather than being absorbed by the body, was gathering more fluid and expanding. After the doctor's visit Jeff was groggy and in pain, but he was able to talk to all of our children and give them hugs when a neighbor brought them to visit. As is typical of others who have seizures, Jeff has no memory of it.

Jeff's dad offered to stay with him that first night, a gesture that still touches me. I went back home to be with the kids. Samuel asked for a bath with "special soap" and I willingly let him sleep in my bed. I think I slept for two hours, if that.The seizure replayed in my mind. Finally at 5 a.m. I called the surgical unit to see how Jeff was doing. He had a good night. "I know you were talking to the hospital," Samuel said. "How did you know?" I asked; I hadn't even realized he was awake. "You were talking about Dad, and Dad is in the hospital."

I got the kids off to school, then my parents picked me up to go to the hospital. My sister-in-law Madison stayed at my house so she could help with household tasks and be there when the kids came home from school. She stayed until Wednesday, caring for her 4-year-old and 8-month-old daughters as well as helping my family. Such a loving sacrifice.

Jeff was in and out of a fitful sleep when I got to the hospital. My mom gamely engaged me in conversation in the room, but Jeff's every little twitch alarmed me. Finally the nurse announced that surgery was in 10 minutes. We followed her through the labyrinth to get Jeff to pre-op. He and I had a quiet moment behind a curtain, the anesthesiologist came in, then poof! His life was in someone else's hands. So surreal.

 Jeff right before surgery, in our alone time.

Matt, Mom, Brooklynn.

If you ever need someone to hang out with you in a surgical waiting room, may I recommend my brother Matt and his wife Brooklynn? They're both actors, but their upbeat, calming influence was the real deal. We laughed, getting especially good mileage from the beeper a nurse gave me ("Your table patient is ready") and status updates from the Domino's pizza Brooklynn ordered online to be delivered to my kids. "Taylor is rolling the dough ... Taylor is applying sauce ... Taylor has checked your pizza for deliciousness .. Taylor has given your pizza to Scott ... Scott is in the car." Couldn't hospitals keep their patrons as informed? And just who was checking Jeff for deliciousness?



Jeff's surgery went very well and as soon as he came out of anesthesia he exhibited improved hand function. My mom sat with me during the doctor's report. Afterwards she and I stood in the hallway and I finally let all of my emotions come to the surface -- as tears of joy. She drew me close as I sobbed, stroked my back and said, "It's OK, it's OK."

Jeff's mom, and another sister and brother had arrived and were sitting with Jeff's father when I came out from the consult. I worried at first that my teary face betrayed the good news, but my mom's smile behind me told all. Our shared happiness and relief was sweet.

I have much more to process about this experience and may write about it with time. I am tired. I can't trust my emotions. Today I am basking in the love of my Heavenly Father who answered my pleadings to save my husband and give me the chance to cherish him. This story, right here on this screen, began with a happy ending. But this story is also a new beginning of gratitude, love and the perspective of what matters most. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to all who have helped us.

James, Samuel and Elise were on the driveway playing basketball when Jeff and I pulled up from the hospital Friday afternoon. By the time I gathered our bags, Jeff had already shot a basket with them. Then, a minute after I sent out my "Jeff is home!" text, he was sweeping the floor. That guy. Oh how I love him.