I spent quite a few hours waiting while my mom had surgery and one thing I remember is that I was scared to go get something to eat because I didn’t want to miss the doctor coming out with an update. So a snack pack is a great idea even though they may be too nervous to eat. They will be starved when they get home so think ahead about fast easy dinner ideas.
I also remember how hard it was to focus enough to read anything, so maybe ipods with books on tape? Or mindlessly easy puzzle book type things, photos of your friend during happy times (to focus good vibes), a deck of cards?
It’s just absolutely hours of terrified waiting in a cold, noisy, public space. Anything you can think of to keep them occupied will be helpful.
When my dad had bypass surgery, which took hours, food was a welcome distraction. Sometimes going to the cafe was nice, just to go walk. More pften we just wanted to stay close So I think a basket of water and snacks would be most appreciated.
You sound like a great friend, and the care package idea sounds good to me. They’ll probably feel thirsty even if they don’t feel hungry, and it’s always possible they’re nervous eaters.
You’re not the one whose life is on the line, but don’t shove yourself into the background like that. This is happening to someone you obviously care about, and even if you make her a priority, it’s very much happening to you. Whatever happens, you’re in this and there’s no sense pretending otherwise.
What you do, essentially, is think about the practicalities, see what necessities develop, and try to do things to make her happy without taxing her. Your food idea is a good one. Some people react to stress by eating and some can’t look at food, but if they’re going to be there all day and all night, they’ll need to eat at some point.
A suggestion (I’m assuming you’re in the US) - gift cards to pizza places, or other places that do deliveries. That way they can order when they want and have something hot now and then.
Another thing that might come in handy - some blankets, a couple of pillows and a crossword puzzle book or two. Also a deck of cards.
That’s awful about your friend and I’m so sorry One thing I wanna point out though - there is always hope. There is not a cancer out there that SOMEONE hasn’t beat and she’s definitely in very good hands.
Food would be great I think! When my father had a heart attack I looked around the waiting room at 2:00 AM and everyone was staring into space, looking like zombies. So I went home and got the croissants I’d made for dinner that day(it was Easter Sunday!), took some butter and jam, plates and napkins, back to the hospital with me. The simple act of having to decide what to do with their croissant broke a lot of us out of our spaced out zone feeling. Food can be a great comforter.
Throw in a few magazines, I’d pick Discover, Psychology Today, Newsweek, People, something like that, a variety of short but interesting articles to help pass the time. Last time I spent a long time in a hospital waiting room I’d have been ever so grateful for some light reading material. And if your grocery store has some of those $5 fleece throws that would be nice too, it can get boring and chilly in hospitals.
They might very well be too nervous to eat, but it’s still a good idea. I had to have an operation when I was a teenager, and I came out of the anesthesia asking for my mother…only to learn that she was down in the ER. Turns out she’d collapsed from dehydration. My operation had been scheduled for early that morning, and she’d been too worried to eat breakfast after they took me back. She hadn’t slept much the night before, and just kept drinking coffee while I was in surgery. If someone had given her a bottle of water it might have saved us all some worry!
FWIW my operation was also for a tumor in the head, although I was lucky in that it was 1) non-cancerous and 2) a tumor of the pituitary gland, so sort of on the brain but not in it. So I’m not going to pretend you’re friend’s in the same situation that I was, but I have had my skull cut open and gone through radiation therapy and while it wasn’t exactly how I’d have preferred to spend my summer it wasn’t as bad as you might think. Your friend is certainly going to have a rough couple of days after her surgery, and she’ll be weak for a good bit longer than that, but it’s entirely possible she’ll be up and about at home within a week or so.
She arrived with her sisters last night and they left for Hopkins this morning at 5am for the pre-surgical MRI. I bought salmon, green tea, and organic veggies for the weird anti-cancer diet she’s decided to stick to in an attempt to have some control over this thing, so at least I know they ate well last night. I don’t think anyone got much sleep, despite the cats sensing the stress and rotating from bed to bed to dole out purrs. The surgery is scheduled for 10:30 this morning, and one of her sisters will send me text message updates along the way, because I’ll be at work. I sent them off with a bag of water bottles, peanut butter crackers, trail mix, and tissues, and the biggest hugs I could manage.
None of us is afraid of the surgery itself; we’re confident in the surgeon and the hospital. They told us the tumor is in a very operable area, one of the best spots to put a tumor, if you have to have one - the frontal lobe of her right (non-dominant) hemishpere. No motor skills should be affected, since the lesion is anterior to the motor areas, and her language and hearing and sight should all be fine. Despite all these reassurances, we’re all afraid of who this person might be when she wakes up. Part of her brain will be missing… will part of her be missing as well? The frontal lobe deals with personality, reasoning, emotional control, planning, and judgement. It’s what they lop off for a nice soothing lobotomy. Will she be, tonight, the woman she was this morning?
I LOVE how your friend asked the doc the million-dollar question, how he answered truthfully, and how they got the best doc available.
I think I know how you feel about it not being about you–you post this about your friend, and we come in and worry about you, too. But as others have posted, you’re going through a rough time too. Damn, I can’t even wrap my mind around what it must be like to have this awesome friend suddenly getting this horrific diagnosis and prognosis, let alone be the one getting the diagnosis.
We’ll support you, as you support her. How’s that?
I had the same worries about my BF and obviously, I can’t promise you anything because he had a different type of tumor as your friend. But, it’s in the same place. (I really want to ask the name of the surgeon to see if it’s the same guy, but that seems like none of our business, so I’ll refrain.) The only thing that I saw in my BF as a result of this has been memory issues. He has a little trouble with short-term. If you repeat things enough, he will eventually lay it down in long-term, but I have to tell him things several times. He is starting to realize how bad it really is–it took a while because he’d forget what he’d forgotten, ya know? But we haven’t seen any sort of personality changes (well, he’s a little more loving and mellow, but a near-death experience will do that to ya), reasoning ability, emotional control, planning, judgment… it’s all good. Let me add: he remembered all the people who were close to him and conversations that happened before the surgery. He has problems laying down new short term memory.
Of course, everybody is different, they have different kinds of tumors, there could be very different complications. The outcome will probably be as good as it can be, given she’s probably got one of the best neurosurgeons in the world. Note: shouldn’t be any parts of her brain missing; just the tumor.
Anyway, I wish I could assure you that your friend will be the same person post-surgery. It’s likely you don’t have to worry about that. But I can’t promise that with 100% confidence, unfortunately.
What I didn’t expect or think about is: when you lop a tumor out of someone’s brain, you kind of leave a hole. It takes time for the brain to heal from that. The healing process often means seizures. Didn’t see that comin’. Your friend will be given meds to control the possibility of seizures. My BF had one on the table after the tumor was removed. The surgeon had counted on that; says it’s typical. He was in ICU for a couple days and out of the hospital about two days after that. She may not wake up for a while – they might keep her out of it to give her brain some healing time.
My heart goes out to ya; I know exactly what you’re going through. Do you have a support system to give you hugs when you need 'em? Is there someone who is outside this situation that you can talk to? Because it is exhausting being the caretaker/support system for other people; please don’t forget to take care of yourself too.
Tonight she’ll be a drugged-up, exhausted, possibly-medically-comatose woman who’s been through a serious ordeal, so I wouldn’t draw too many conclusions based on how she acts. The brain is a pretty impressive thing and can repair itself in some remarkable ways, so this may not be an issue at all. In any case, for the sake of your sanity I think it helps to try to worry about one thing at a time. For starters I hope the surgery goes exactly according to plan.
I feel this is a key part of anyone recovering from anything. My GF’s brother had leukemia about 10 years ago, and combined with a rare hereditary blood disorder the prognosis was not good. But he had a positive attitude the entire time; I don’t believe it ever even occurred to him that he might die. He made a total recovery and is happy and healthy today.
For those who are following the story, she made it out of surgery in a little over three hours and woke up groggy but able to move everything, recognize her family, and talk about her thesis. The preliminary finding is that it’s a glioma, but the pathology report will take a few days. I’m waiting for her sister to get back so I can get some more information, and hopefully they will let me in to see her tomorrow morning.
I just lost a friend of 30+ years to cancer; undergoing treatment, suddenly things get much worse, a week later he’s dead.
As xkcd said recently: Fuck cancer. *Seriously. *.
A friend of mine had a seizure and didn’t even have the option of choosing a surgeon. The tumour was removed immediately. When his friends took him to the ER, the hospital did a CAT scan and said: “Wehavetogetthisoutofyourheadrightfuckingnow!” He didn’t even get the chance to see to his family before what could have been person-changing surgery. It was stage 4 glioblastoma multiforme. It’s about 3 or 4 years later now, and J. now owns an adventure business: he is a guide taking people on pretty wild wilderness adventures - he climbs mountains. He is presently facing his first relapse. He will survive.
One thing I wanna point out though - there is always hope. There is not a cancer out there that SOMEONE hasn’t beat and she’s definitely in very good hands. 
But we haven’t seen any sort of personality changes (well, he’s a little more loving and mellow, but a near-death experience will do that to ya), reasoning ability, emotional control, planning, judgment… it’s all good. Let me add: he remembered all the people who were close to him and conversations that happened before the surgery. He has problems laying down new short term memory.
The brain is a pretty impressive thing and can repair itself in some remarkable ways, so this may not be an issue at all. In any case, for the sake of your sanity I think it helps to try to worry about one thing at a time. For starters I hope the surgery goes exactly according to plan.