10-4 Over and Out!

Well, I’ve made it. I’m going home today! (in just an hour or so!)

I still have a few months of recovery. The Neurosurgeon told me, “In laymen's terms, you’ve been kicked in the head. Real hard! It’ll take you six weeks before you should be thinking of getting involved in work, life, etc. Just relax. Be a baby again. You need to heal.” 

I’ll try doc!

I’ve got to tell you about my neurosurgeons. They are real gentlemen. Dr Paul and Dr Simon (oh my, I just saw that when I wrote it down... lol... Paul Simon gave me a new song to sing!) lol ... Anyway, Dr Paul and Dr Simon have come in repeatedly to check on me. They are the two who did the tumour removal. On Sunday, Dr Simon brought his son, 5 year old Henry, to the wards with him. That was one of the best experiences for me. Just to see childhood innocence again. And I got to ask him about his favourite show (Little Einsteins) and have fun with him. It was very cathartic. I love kids! 

Dr Paul and Dr Simon have given me lots of attention and it’s amazing really. They are very busy guys. They come individually to have a chat. Then they come together. They are very happy with how my face is working. I think they like to see me smile. :)

The tumour was enmeshing my facial nerve, hearing nerve and balance nerve. They told me beforehand that you always loose your hearing on that side from this tumour removal because they have to cut the hearing nerve and remove the part the tumour has built itself on. The balance and facial control is what they dont know until after they do the surgery. It can be really bad vertigo for some people - taking weeks or months to learn to walk again without getting dizzy. And it can be facial paralysis for some people - which often comes back after a few days or weeks but sometimes remains, like a stroke, forever. 

My tumour was wrapped around my facial nerve. And they were very careful. That’s why it took so long. Dr Paul and Dr Simon didn’t want me to be paralyzed on the left side of my face. Thanks guys! So, they carefully cut away all but a thin sheath of the tumour around the facial nerve. There’s still a tiny remnant of the tumour in there. They will keep an eye on it with MRI’s every few months. Dr Paul said, “They rarely start growing again. But, we will watch it carefully.”

I can taste with both sides of my tongue again. I can feel all of my face (a lot of the left side has been numb for more than three months). I can feel in my left teeth and gums again. I open my left eye a lot wider than I have in a long time. Pr James, when he visited yesterday, said I look younger. My wife, Jenny, says I don’t look tired. Evidently I looked tired before because my left face was droopy. Well, no more! But, I am very tired! I’ve been kicked in the head! lol

So, everyone here is very happy with me. The Doctors say I can go home. The Physio had me walk up a flight of stairs, walk in a straight line looking left and right and then walk straight looking up high then down low while moving quickly. You go try that. It aint easy.

My balance is great. In my pretesting, they discovered the tumour had already taken my balance signals coming from my left ear. Zero signal was getting through. I was hoping that meant after the surgery I wouldn’t have sudden vertigo because I had been compensating slowly for years as the tumour grew. And, it’s true. That’s what’s happened. My only dizzyness is from being kicked in the head and sleeping on concrete (sore hip). I’m good to go!

See you soon!

Oh, 10-4 has been my ward and room. I’m patient number 1. So, 10-04-01 - over and out!

14 Staples!

Ok, gross post. But it's cool!

Sorry about the oily hair. No soap allowed near the wound for a couple of weeks!

Nurses - God’s Undercover Agents

There is no way to explain how amazing nurses are. They come in a check on you with regular faithfulness, they ask questions to remind you where you are what day it is and they come every time you press that jolly little button. 

I’m serious. Press it. For whatever. And they come. I have yet hear a nurse say, “Oh get over yourself!” And actually, I’m not talking about myself. I’m doing really well. But Sandra*, in the bed next to me calls out 3 to 4 times an hour when she is awake. She, too, has had brain surgery. And her legs don’t work. So, she cries out for someone to “get my hamstrings for me” or “chuck my hamstrings out the window” or in her less lucid moments, “can you get hamstrings with that?”... And then she repeats herself. The nurse will just have left the room and she will cry out about the same need. And the nurse returns. They all give her the “use the button” spiel but they all come when they hear her call.  

One of my nurses spent some quality time massaging Sandra’s legs and positioning and repositioning her on Friday night. Then she passed through the wall into my room. Aren’t angels the only ones on earth who can pass through walls? I had been listening to her deal with Sandra’s suffering and heard the way she used love and kindness to calm Sandra and help her sleep. As she passed through my room, and asked if I needed anything, I was just overcome with her generous spirit. “You’re amazing.” I said. She tried to pass it off, but I continued, “You can be trained in some things, but what you just did for Sandra was wonderful. You are an amazing person.” She smiled and said, “Thank you. Sleep well.” And I did.

Then there’s Jack. He was a firefighter in the Black Saturday fires nearly four years ago. The nurses come and call his name until he responds when he slips away. He got stranded, ran out of water and shut down emotionally. Then he came good - for a couple of months - then one fireless day he called his wife and said, “I’m on a stump. I don’t know where they’ve gone. But I know they need me. The smoke is so intense.” The hospitals had been put on three-month standby for these firefighters. It’s Post-Tramatic-Stress-Syndrome and it can hit up to 90 days after the traumatic event. He’s been in that fire and out of it for nearly four years now. On my first lucid night - I think it was Thursday - he woke me up when he shouted, “Incoming. Get everyone out!” He was dreaming and flash-backing at the same time. His wife is amazing. She nurses him, usually. But, then he started fitting and that put him in hospital - over 3 months ago. He fitted this morning for a few minutes and spent the rest of the day recovering from it. The nurses were there through it all.

One of my nurses was doing the usual checks on me and I asked her a question. My Dad had just been to a majestic cathedral next door to experience Sunday Mass. As this is not in our faith tradition, he and I were both curious. When he returned he was telling me all about it when the nurse walked in. I said to her, “We’ve never been to mass before, so my Dad was very interested in the experience. What about you? Is Mass something from your faith tradition.” She said, “I was brought up going to Mass. I am Catholic. But I don’t practice anymore.” What makes this so intriguing to me is it took all day for my mind to make the obvious link that I normally would have made instantly. Just before she had come in, My Dad had read this “Good Samaritan Card” that he was handed on the way out of Mass. It was a beautiful description of why that church does all they can to help whomever they can at whatever opportunity they are given. Race aside. Creed aside. Faith aside. They will reach to anyone. Tomorrow I will give “The Good Samaritan” card to that nurse. She hasn’t stopped practicing. She’s just started.

Blessings, people. 

*I’ve changed the names to protect the people in this story. They are just every-day Joe’s and Jill’s like me and you.

St Vincent’ Saturday – 4:40pm

This is the first day and time that I have enough energy or concentration to get out the laptop after the surgery.

All I can say, is, “Wow! That hurt!” The surgery started Tuesday about 11AM and went for about 9 hours and 3 hours were spent getting me out of deep sleep. By far, the most pain came from my left hip on which they had me laying for the entire surgery. Imagine 9 hours, asleep on one side, on concrete. Then, if you want some subsidiary pain, imagine having your head bolted to a brace that held it in place for the surgery. I was in my bed, in recovery by 11:30 pm and Jenny stayed until 1AM. I cannot imagine what it was like for her to wait so long!

Wednesday, they let me sleep all day. Which is a good thing, because that was all I was doing, anyway! It was so hard to focus when I was awake. I was in a half-way la-la-land. My Dad or my Wife were here every time I opened my eyes. That meant a lot.

I’m coming through it as well as everyone expects. The neurosurgeons have been up a few times to check on me. I was given a CT Scan on Thursday and that came back that there was no bleeding on the brain. Which is great news, to say the least!

I got up yesterday with the physio and went for a short walk. Longer than she expected, evidently! Today, I have walked to the lounge and back, had my catheter out and wandered to the toilet a couple of times. I ate a bit of my tea last night, a bit of my breaky this morning, and a big chunk of my lunch. It isn’t easy! All I want to do is shake my head and send the food away. But I know healing doesn’t happen that way! So, I eat. And, after a bit, it tastes all right.

By far the most meaningful stage on my recovery was when my three kids came in to see me today. That was beautifully special. It took everything in me not to cry while they were here. (I’m crying now). They are so beautiful. I am so richly blessed. They were all so anxious to see me and to tell me how much they missed me. I am so loved. It is truly a wonderful life!

Thank You

Tomorrow morning I undergo brain surgery. 

I want to take this opportunity to thank you all for your many thoughts, prayers and kind words. It has been overwhelmingly amazing and truly humbling to realise how many people have my best at heart. 

I have received messages from dozens of people from around the globe - family, friends past and present and many friends of the future. God is good. And you are all amazing.

There is a family that are great friends to us who live nearby. They have a family much like ours - they put family first. We love spending time with them! They are people of a very wide faith which generates the most amazing and invigorating discussions. One day, when my wife was visiting their home, her friend (the mum) said, "I've been talking to my Elm tree today. I was meditating on Dave and his brain tumour. As I focused on Dave, I was overwhelmed by all the positive energy flowing toward him. It's coming from everywhere! I've never felt anything like it!"

I don't know what your beliefs are, but if you have a moment to spare, I'd love you to keep the positive energy flowing my way. Be it a prayer, a thought, a cheer or a cry. I'll take it!

Blessings!

Dave

Come to me with your ears wide open.

Listen, and you will find life.

Seek the Lord while you can find him.

Call on him now while he is near.

“My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,” says the Lord.

“And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine.

For just as the heavens are higher than the earth,

so my ways are higher than your ways

and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.

It is the same with my word.

I send it out, and it always produces fruit.

It will accomplish all I want it to,

and it will prosper everywhere I send it.

You will live in joy and peace.

The mountains and hills will burst into song,

and the trees of the field will clap their hands!

Taken from Isaiah 55 (NLT)

Ponchenello

"He deserves lots of dots," the wooden people would agree with one another. 

"He's not a good wooden person."

...   ...   ...

I now know how Ponchello felt in Max Lucado's children's book "You Are Special."

I went to get my MRI and they said, you can go home today as long as you can be here Wednesday at 7am sharp and keep all the dots on your head!"

So now I'm sitting in the car while Jenny gets some shopping. "I've got dots! I'm not going in there!"  lol

The MRI went perfectly. Getting the dots to stick was another story. I actually said to the nurse, "Other people's dots don't stick to me very easily." She laughed and said, "That's good, I guess."

They tried everything to draw on my skin with their special pen (felt more like an ice pick that a pen) and to get the dots to stick. Finally they gave me some alcohol based "pre-surgery" shampoo and asked me to go wash my hair. I could feel the dots starting to stick. Ok, I have oily skin.

I showered and washed my hair one blog entry ago! Geeeeesh!

After the oil-be-gone head wash, the dots stuck. And so they should! But I still wouldn't be drawn! They used a Sharpie in the end.

So, now I'm not allowed to get sweaty or the dots will fall off and the ink will run. The nurse actually said, "Please try not to sweat. Just think about not sweating."

Yes dear, shall do.

An A/C in the face works wonders!

The Call

Wow! Just got "the call" and it was more than expected!

An hour ago I received a call from the hospital. I'm heading into the city now on the train. MRI today (and a head-shave!) and surgery on Wednesday.

Doctor Smith asked them to "move it along" and they did so.
I'm happy! I want to get on the recovery track rather than the waiting track. So, this is good news.

But it's also a bit of a shock! Zoom boom! Edgren, you're up!

I was in the hot tub when I got the call. After hanging up I went in to have a shower and got the shakes. I said to Jenny, "I'm shaking but I'm not cold." She said, "It's shock!"

Isn't adrenalin a wonderful thing!?  lol

So, I'm showered, not shaking and at the station. Train in 10 mins.

Living Under the Umbrella

So, here we are on the eve of a new year and I on the eve of a new life. As I approach the surgery I am more excited than worried. I am excited about what will be different after the tumour is out. Will I feel different? (Acoustic Neuromas can have all kinds of physical, emotional and sensational effects on their host). Maybe I will be more serious and driven. Maybe I’ll be less tired. Maybe I’ll be more adventurous. Maybe I’ll be able to taste food on the left side of my mouth again. Maybe I’ll be more funny and can take up a career as a comedian. Maybe the ringing in my left ear will stop (or maybe it will get louder!). Maybe I’ll be able to ride my motorcycle backward. That would be cool!  

There is very little I can control in this surgery. I can be well rested on my way in. I can be patient with myself afterward. I can enjoy my health and family as much as possible before the surgery. I cannot tell you what a joy it has been to spend so much time with them during the past few months. I have gone out for meals and day trips with each of my children (multiple times) and taken partial and whole family trips here and there. 

These vast hours of special family time are possible because of the amazing generosity and compassion of my employer. When I told them about the tumour in September, the leadership at the Victoria Conference of the Seventh-day Adventist Church (for whom I work!) told me that they would like me to go onto a “sick-leave umbrella” which means I am on sick-leave but can report as many hours as I work each week. General Secretary Pr Darren Croft said they want me to be as well rested and emotionally healthy before the surgery as possible. Human Resources Director Karina Gurban said she had chased my sick leave backward through all previous church employers (something only possible for serious illness) and had found 5.5 Months of sick-leave which are available to me during this time. So, since October I have been living under the umbrella! Some weeks I work a full week, sometimes I work and hour or two a week. The only stipulation Pr Darren set was, “Please don’t do anything which stresses you - just do the parts of ministry which you enjoy and which bless you.” 

Every Sabbath I minister away from my family is stressful. So, I have spent every Sabbath possible with them. We have gone to church together. We have wagged church and gone bush together. We have had opening Sabbath, Sabbath lunch and closing Sabbath together. And I have sat, in a pew during numerous sermons, next to them. This may all sound mundane to most people but every church pastor with a young family will be aching with jealousy. I’m starting to think we do Sabbath wrong as Pastors. I don’t know how to fix it but I know we are not discipling our children in the joy and the rest of the Sabbath when we work on Sabbath while having family fun and rest on another day or, God forbid, work 7 days a week.

Yesterday, after running JETS Sabbath School at Ringwood church (with my wife and for all three of our children plus a bunch more awesome kids) we had Sabbath lunch with Grandma and Grandpa. Then Cyrus, Rachael and I went to Healesville Sanctuary together. It’s really wonderful to spend such moments together. This preparation time is really challenging me to rethink family, Sabbath, pastoring, ministry and life in general. I want to continue living a life of disciple-making when I emerge from under the umbrella.

Neurosurgeon Dr Paul Smith

On the Saturday afternoon before Christmas I received a phone call from my surgeon! I have not met Dr Smith and this was the first time we talked to each other. I had, however heard a lot about him from the other workers in the hospital during my various visits.

I think I surprised him when I greeted him like an old friend. He said, “Hello David, This is Dr Paul Smith. I am the neurosurgeon who will be doing your surgery.”

I said, “Good afternoon, Sir! How are you?”

I could hear his smile as he replied, “I’m good. I don’t believe we have met. You seem to know me!”

I laughed. “Well, no, we’ve never met but I have learned your name and heard a lot about you from the other fine people at St Vincents.”

“I see. Well, I just wanted to call and talk to you.”

And we talked! Dr Paul Smith came across as very professional, helpful and friendly. He let me know that I am approaching the top of his surgery list. He asked if I would be able to meet a mid-January surgery date. I assured him I would.

Dr Smith asked a lot of questions about my symptoms and allowed me to ask questions as well. One thing he said, which I actually appreciated greatly, was that this is a very serious surgery. I don’t know why but it was comforting to hear my surgeon say this. I guess it let me know that He is confident, qualified for the task and will give me the very best care possible. He talked me through the risks (“although unlikely David, it’s still important that you are fully aware”) which include hearing loss, facial paralysis, and death. He explained that all surgeries of this magnitude include a risk of death however slight.

After quite a lengthy chat, he said the hospital would contact me with a date. Now that he has talked to me, he will talk to them. And they will call me.

So, once New Years Day passes, I’ll be expecting a call from my friendly first-name crew at St Vincents Hospital. Did I mention how reassuring it was that Dr Smith didn’t introduce himself, “Hey, it’s Paul, the guy whose gonna rid ya of that tumour!” but rather as “Dr Paul Smith, the neurosurgeon.” After getting off the phone I commented to Jenny, “It’s nice to know he takes his job seriously!” 

You can check out Dr Paul Smith and his creds at http://www.paulsmithneurosurgeon.com.au

The Health Saga - the new story (from September 2013)

From Tumour to Health
The One Year Lifestyle Commitment 
The Food
ProOatTeen Patties
The Hybrid Engine
Daily Meal
The truth behind the diet guru's claims


The Tumour Saga - the old story (from September 2012)

These are the entries I made from September 2012 to May 5 -  as the story and experience of my brain tumour unfolded.

Acoustic Neuroma

• Do you love what you do?
• Merry-Go Monkey Round Go Drum Bang
• The 23mm Intruder
• The Symptoms
• Themepark Holiday
• Family
• Bad First Date —VS— Good News Wait
• Why Me?
• High - Low
• Living the Dream(s)
• Ear / Balance Test
• Counting Backward from 10 ... 9 ...
• a very merry un-surgery-date
• Neurosurgeon Dr Paul Smith
• Living under the umbrella
• The Call
• Ponchenello
• Thank You
• St Vincent’ Saturday – 4:40pm
• Nurses - God’s Undercover Agents
• 14 Staples!
• 10-4 Over and Out
• MRI-ALARM
• 10 Days at Home
• Facially Speaking
• The Eyes Have It
• A Short Thought on Suffering
• The Heart of the Waiting Game
• 
  

a very merry un-surgery-date

The hospital finally returned my (many!) phone calls regarding a surgery date. They now tell me the surgery will be early in January, although it could be in December. Evidently, they either have a very difficult time creating schedules, or reading them, at the hospital. (yes, I understand I am on the non-urgent list and get bumped along by all the serious brain-cases. But, errgh!)

It's frustrating, to say the least. But, what can you do?

Adam (the schedule-maker... um... schedule-non-maker) said, "Your 90 day waiting period didn't start until all your preliminary appointments were finished." I told him this had not been explained to me until NOW and that I was expecting to be in surgery before December. Adam just said, "Sorry. Today you are at day 33 on your waiting list and we are averaging about day 80 for the 90 day waiting list."

Every doctor and nurse I have asked about my surgery date over the past three months has said, "oh, it should be in the next few weeks!" Imagine if Adam would communicate with the doctors and nurses… A simple, "Please do NOT tell patients when their surgery will be as you do not have that information or even understand the system within which you work!" hmmm...

So, after some brain-bending effort, Adam figured out—by examining their calendar—that day 80 would be well into January. And then he guessed. "Well, I can't see it happening before January. But, I guess it could happen in December. But that would be surprising. So, expect a January date."

Let's pray for a surprise for Adam.

lol

Shmevolution

We Christians make a mistake when we pit Darwinian Evolution against Theistic Creation - as if we are the only ones lining up against Darwin. There are many secular, atheistic, scientists who disagree with the emergence of life being explained through Darwin's paradigm. 

The core tenant of Science is the desire to disprove. Nothing is fact. Everything is theory. This makes it science. And when a long held scientific theory is finally debunked or superseded, the true scientific community celebrates. The science fringe-dwellers wring their hands and dig in their heels, arguing for the ancient wisdom of some scientific saint. But, science—standing on the shoulders of yesterday’s giants—moves on, abandoning or adjusting the previously held theory. It is seen as wisdom of the age from which it came, but no longer true. 

I Googled to find an article demonstrating my point. In less than three minutes, I found one called “dubitable-darwin-why-some-smart-nonreligious-people-doubt-the-theory-of-evolution”. it was on the Scientific American website. You can find hundreds of such articles, if you care to look. Once we’ve found all these arguments by science against science... what will we do? Quote our favourites, of course! 

As scripture tells us, the man who says there is no God is a fool. And yet, Jesus says we should not call anyone a fool. Perhaps we should leave both the scientific theorizing and the name calling to those who are not about the business of their Father in Heaven.

As believers in God, His creative and recreative power and His Word, we should focus our intelligence, imagination and inspiration on the things to which He calls us. God has shown us, oh friend, what is good and what He requires of us. To do justly, to love mercy and to walk humbly with Him.

One day, some scientific mastermind - who says there is no God - will prove, by using every synapse of his God-given brain, that life did not emerge in Darwin’s image. And along with this ground-breaking scientific (dis)proof will come the next life-explaining theory of everything. And the scientific community will run in tight, brilliant, little circles until they throw the next theory-busting birthday party. It’s what they do. Leave them to it.

Let’s be about the business of our Father in Heaven - humbly changing the world, one act of justice and mercy at a time.

Counting Backward from 10 ... 9 ...

Today I made the journey into the city for another visit with some of St Vincents’ super-duper cool people. I really do like them, they are very friendly, listen well and laugh at my jokes. What more can a brain patient ask for? hehe

Today I met Emma and Eric. They* were both very helpful and informative. 

Emma was either a doctor or a nurse, I’m not sure, and spent a long time with me doing various tests and asking me lots of questions. At the beginning of the visit, she told me the primary purpose of today was to assess my compatibility with the medication they will use to knock me out during the surgery. 

Emma took some blood. She did a blood pressure test. Then she put 10 stickers on my chest, stomach and ankles to test my electrical system. She was very happy with all my answers and the results of the BP and ECG tests. The blood results will come back in the next day or two, but I am quite confident as I have had two blood tests in the past month at my local GP. After the ECG she played a little trick on me which was quite funny. She said, “Ok, there are 10 stickers on your body. Find them and remove them.” It took me awhile. But, after a hint, I was successful!

I asked Emma about the stay in the hospital. She said, 5-7 days is normal. I will be up and walking on the first day after surgery and will be expected to be quite coherent and coordinated very quickly. No rest for the wicked! I was happy to hear that I won’t be bed ridden for long at all. After all the questions and tests were finished, she sent me off to provide some “midstream” pee in a cup. That was the hardest test of them all. But, I’m a champion! To the rim and not a drop wasted. lol

After meeting with Emma, I met with Eric. Dr Eric? He told me the name of the surgeon doing my opperation is Dr Smith. I said, “You hear that Mr. Anderson?... That is the sound of inevitability....” (no I didn’t, but I was tempted). lol (there’s a prize to the first person brave enough to put the next like in a comment below)... 

Anyway, Eric looked through my file (online!) with me and let me know that, while a date has not yet been set, I will receive a call in the next week or two to inform me of the date. He said, it should be in the next three or four weeks. 

So, I’m happy with today’s escapade. It was a safe drive into the city and a safe return. And I feel reassured, yet again, that the upcoming surgery is in very capable hands!

*What’s up with the first name game at the higher level of society? It’s like we’re playing topsy-turvy with the education-vs-title equation. Elder Jones can knock on my door at 18 years of age (recently reduced from 19 as voted by the good people of Utah). The CTO can instant message the CEO about the CIO defaming the CCO with very little flame between all four matchsticks. But in a brain surgery ward, a patient meets Emma and Eric to chat about having a tumour removed. Hmmm....

Hearing / Balance Test

Yesterday I rode my beautiful Honda Shadow 750 (freshly polished!) into the city for an ear and balance test. It always makes me smile when I’m asked by neurologists “Do you have any balance issues?” Today I was able to point to my helmet and say, “Nope, I rode here on my motorcycle.”

Well, the tests showed something quite interesting. I do have balance issues. My left inner-ear is basically not reporting anything to my brain. But, the change has happened so slowly, as the tumour has grown, that my brain has adjusted where it gets its messages from to provide me with balance. Cool, eh? 

Let me start from the beginning. When they booked me for a three hour ear and balance test I thought they must just build in buffer time for “waiting room time”. I was wrong! I was invited to join the audiologist right on time - 1:15PM. Over the next three hours I spent time in three different rooms with an audiologist and a student audiologist. Both were young women and not at all hard on the eyes or ears. 

Room 1: Very quiet. They shut the door and it was VERY QUIET! (said in a whisper). It was quite a quiet difference from the busy city bustling outside on Swanston Street. 

In room 1, I wore headphones and pressed a button. Sounds easy, eh? ... Not so! The sounds they play are soooo quiet. Testing my pitch and decibel hearing abilities was a frustratingly long procedure. It was revealed that both ears have hearing loss. The right is about normal for my age. The left was worse. The tumour is on the left.

Room 2: Goggles, dots and women blowing gently in my ears. Sounds nice? it was... Some parts more than others. 

In Room 2, I wore a pair of eye tracking goggles that sent my every eye movement to a computer. In test 1, I stared at a dot on the wall. It moved. I stared at the dot in its new location. It moved again. 

In test 2, I was told to relax my neck so the audiologist could jerk my head from left to right without warning while I tried to keep focused on the dot. Then the student got to have a go. Fun for everyone! 

In test 3, I faced a different wall and watched a different dot. This dot played pong all by itself! I just watched it go back and forth. 

In test 4, on the same wall, I stared at a smiley face for ten seconds. The next part was really hard! After fixing my eyes on the location of the smiley, they put a cover over the goggles that completely blocked out all light. It was DARK! (said with eyes closed). I had to keep my head perfectly still and my eyes in the exact position they were in while staring at the smiley face. The first time, I followed the residual image of the smiley face as it wandered off to the left. The next time, I tried harder. “Forget the smiley face.” I told myself. Just keep your eyes fixed in the middle. Not easy in the dark! Without a reference point, I’m not sure what my eyes were doing. 

In test 5, I laid back on the bed with my head on a pillow. The blinder was put on the goggles (to keep me in the dark!) and I was told to keep my eyes open while they blew air in my ears through a tiny little tube and watched my eardrum through a otoscope. Each ear got a turn with cold air and then warm air. They did the right ear first. Cold air for about a minute. “Almost done. Twenty seconds left. Ten seconds left. Done.” Then they asked me to tell them a girl’s name starting with A. “Alexandra”. B. “Beatrice”. C. “Coriander” The ladies laughed. D. “Delilah”. E. “Emilia”. F. “Frieda”. “These are very unique names,” the audiologist said. “Frieda is my mother-in-law!” 

“Ok, now look at the red dot.” A red dot appeared in my darkened goggles.  I looked at it.

Then they blew the cold air in my left ear. Boys names. Red dot. They asked how I was feeling. “That felt good!” I said. The audiologist laughed and said she’d never had a patient say it felt good. “What is it supposed to feel like?” I asked. She told me that everyone reacts differently. “Why all the questions?” I asked. “To make sure you’re still awake,” she said. 

“People fall asleep while you’re blowing air in their ears?” I asked.

“There are different kinds of responses. OK. Let’s do the warm air now.”

About five seconds of hot air in my right ear and the bed began to slowly rotate. Then it spun faster. And faster. And WOW fast! “Almost done,” I heard from somewhere outside the amusement park. “20 seconds.” Whizzing, whipping around the universe. “10 seconds.” My teacup reached maximum velocity. “Done.”

It was amazingly discombobulating! 

“I am spinning,” I laughed. “Really spinning. It feels real!”

“How about countries.” It was the students voice. “Can you name a country starting with A?” Now all the questions made sense. I bet some people pass out from the spinning. It was vertigo heaven.

“Africa.” B. “Brazil.” C. “Congo.” D. “Denmark.” E. “ummm... England.” F. “Finland.” I. “What about G?” Both ladies cracked up. “Of course, G.” “Germany.”...

The dot appeared and I focused on it. Then they asked how I felt. “Like I just got back from Disneyland,” I laughed. “Well, you’re about to go back to Disneyland in your left ear,” the audiologist said. “Let’s see how it goes. Ready?” 

Hot air began blowing in my left ear. I prepared myself for the slow rotating of the bed. I waited for the spinning sensation. The air was hot and blowing. I looked for the teacup. “Almost done.” But, I couldn’t even see Disneyland. “20 seconds.” Nothing happened. “10 seconds.” Not the slightest bit of spinning. “Done.”

After talking it through, it is clear that the tumour has been growing slowly and compressing the left balance nerve. None of the signals from my left inner ear are making it to my brain. I asked why, if I didn’t have any balance information coming from my left side, I didn’t have balance issues. Evidently, because the tumour has been growing so slowly, my brain has compensated each little step of the way and takes it’s balance cues from elsewhere. It was the most enlightening part of the day!

Room 3 was noisy. They put headphones on my ears and probes in my ears and tested my eardrums. They told to relax my jaw and lay still. They said it was going to be a long time with lots of clicks and bangs. They said I could go to sleep if I wanted. So, I did. And when the noise stopped I opened my eyes and said, “Now you know what my wife has to put up with every night.” They both laughed. A bit too much, me thinks! The audiologist said, “You were having a good sleep, that’s for sure.” 

We had a short chat afterward and she explained all the results. Hearing is worse in the left ear, but not dramatically. Balance is non-existant in the left ear. The tumour has clearly done it’s work on the balance nerve, affected the hearing nerve somewhat and is now starting to irritate the facial nerve.

When Acoustic Neuroma’s are removed, the main physiotherapy need is usually relearning balance. It is quite possible I am already a long ways ahead in this area. My brain is already accustomed to receiving very little information from the left balance nerve. It will be interesting to see how much different it is when the nerve is cut. We shall see!

As I exited the building my hearing adjusted to the cacophonous world of downtown Melbourne. I threw a leg over my Shadow, put on my helmet and gloves, fired up my pipes and rumbled my way home. 

Any questions?