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Authors: Theodore Taylor
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you. I'll also tell you, Phillip, that most adults wouldn't want to hear about the exact procedures."
I was physically strong but didn't know about the mental part.
"Stop me whenever you wish," he said.
I nodded.
"You'll be put to sleep and your respiration and blood pressure will be carefully watched. You'll be placed on your belly because we have to have complete access to the back of your head..."
As if he'd written it down, word for word, I remember what he told me: The first step would be an incision on the back of my skull ... a straight incision; then instruments would pull the skin of my scalp to the side, to expose the skullbone.
After that, he'd make four or more holes in my skull.
"How do you make them?" I asked.
"With a hand drill."
I heard my mother moan.
"Like woodworkers use?"
"Exactly."
He then used a lot of scientific words like
transverse venous sinus
and
superior saggital sinus,
without even thinking we didn't know them, then brought himself up short, apologizing.
"What we'll do, Phillip, if you make the decision to go ahead, is place a guide between the four burr holes, and then pull a gigli saw, a wire saw, back and forth until the necessary bone cuts are made to provide an oblong window for surgery..."
A window in my skull?
"The second procedure will be to go in through that window and try to repair the blood vessels...."
"Will you put that window part back?"
He laughed a little, softly. "Yes, we certainly will. When we replace it, we'll make up a paste out of shavings from the bone, to hold the piece in place. Then your own cells will grow together, though you'll always feel a little depression back there."
"How long will I be in the hospital?"
"You should be on your feet in two days, but we'll keep you for about a month for observation. If everything goes well, your vision will return in about two weeks."
"What about aftereffects?" my father asked.
"Probably some residual headaches, but they should go away after a while. A possibility of some seizures, but they can be controlled with drugs if they occur."
"Seizures?" my father said. "Similar to epilepsy?"
"Exactly. As you likely know, there are two types. Petit mal and grand mal. The petits are more of a nuisance than anything else. You might be drinking soup and for a split second will stop the spoon in midair. The grand mals are a lot more serious; the patient loses consciousness."
We had a boy at school with epilepsy. Without warning he'd pass out, fall down, then his muscles would jerk. He might froth at the mouth.
"Drugs can control them and eventually they'll go away. But you have to take the drugs regularly," Dr. Pohl said.
"What causes them?" I asked.
"Disturbances of the brain's electrical activity. In your case there will have been quite a shock to your circuits."
I'd heard enough.
"It's a very serious, risky operation, eight to twelve hours long, and you may lose your life, Phillip. Or as I said before, become almost totally incapacitated."
"Or I may see again," I said.
"Yes," he agreed.
"You said ninety percent for one of the adults."
"No guarantee of that percentage," he said, bluntly. "Another thing, there could be problems even if the operation is successfulâinfection of the wound, a blood clot forming on the surface or inside the brain..."
"You don't sound too optimistic," my father said.
"I'm being honest with all of you," the doctor said.
Finally, after a few minutes, I said, "Can I think about it?" Never had I been so scared. Not on the raft or on the cay.
"Of course, but the sooner you make the decision the better. If you decide to go ahead, we'll need to do an pneumo-encephalogram. That's the procedure I mentioned before."
Again I was lost in the medical terms. "What's that?"
"More X rays. We'll put you in a chair and inject air into your spine, then rotate the chair in different directions. By putting air in, we can see more of what the problem is, then go in and operate..."
13. The
I was physically strong but didn't know about the mental part.
"Stop me whenever you wish," he said.
I nodded.
"You'll be put to sleep and your respiration and blood pressure will be carefully watched. You'll be placed on your belly because we have to have complete access to the back of your head..."
As if he'd written it down, word for word, I remember what he told me: The first step would be an incision on the back of my skull ... a straight incision; then instruments would pull the skin of my scalp to the side, to expose the skullbone.
After that, he'd make four or more holes in my skull.
"How do you make them?" I asked.
"With a hand drill."
I heard my mother moan.
"Like woodworkers use?"
"Exactly."
He then used a lot of scientific words like
transverse venous sinus
and
superior saggital sinus,
without even thinking we didn't know them, then brought himself up short, apologizing.
"What we'll do, Phillip, if you make the decision to go ahead, is place a guide between the four burr holes, and then pull a gigli saw, a wire saw, back and forth until the necessary bone cuts are made to provide an oblong window for surgery..."
A window in my skull?
"The second procedure will be to go in through that window and try to repair the blood vessels...."
"Will you put that window part back?"
He laughed a little, softly. "Yes, we certainly will. When we replace it, we'll make up a paste out of shavings from the bone, to hold the piece in place. Then your own cells will grow together, though you'll always feel a little depression back there."
"How long will I be in the hospital?"
"You should be on your feet in two days, but we'll keep you for about a month for observation. If everything goes well, your vision will return in about two weeks."
"What about aftereffects?" my father asked.
"Probably some residual headaches, but they should go away after a while. A possibility of some seizures, but they can be controlled with drugs if they occur."
"Seizures?" my father said. "Similar to epilepsy?"
"Exactly. As you likely know, there are two types. Petit mal and grand mal. The petits are more of a nuisance than anything else. You might be drinking soup and for a split second will stop the spoon in midair. The grand mals are a lot more serious; the patient loses consciousness."
We had a boy at school with epilepsy. Without warning he'd pass out, fall down, then his muscles would jerk. He might froth at the mouth.
"Drugs can control them and eventually they'll go away. But you have to take the drugs regularly," Dr. Pohl said.
"What causes them?" I asked.
"Disturbances of the brain's electrical activity. In your case there will have been quite a shock to your circuits."
I'd heard enough.
"It's a very serious, risky operation, eight to twelve hours long, and you may lose your life, Phillip. Or as I said before, become almost totally incapacitated."
"Or I may see again," I said.
"Yes," he agreed.
"You said ninety percent for one of the adults."
"No guarantee of that percentage," he said, bluntly. "Another thing, there could be problems even if the operation is successfulâinfection of the wound, a blood clot forming on the surface or inside the brain..."
"You don't sound too optimistic," my father said.
"I'm being honest with all of you," the doctor said.
Finally, after a few minutes, I said, "Can I think about it?" Never had I been so scared. Not on the raft or on the cay.
"Of course, but the sooner you make the decision the better. If you decide to go ahead, we'll need to do an pneumo-encephalogram. That's the procedure I mentioned before."
Again I was lost in the medical terms. "What's that?"
"More X rays. We'll put you in a chair and inject air into your spine, then rotate the chair in different directions. By putting air in, we can see more of what the problem is, then go in and operate..."
13. The
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