They said you’re awake the whole time, but that’s not true for every case
Someone told her brain surgery meant being fully awake.
She imagined hearing everything.
Smelling metal.
Feeling cold air in the room.
But the surgeon said,
“That’s only in specific cases.”
Some procedures require response.
Others don’t.
Many are done under full anesthesia.
She exhaled for the first time in days.
You don’t lose all your memory after surgery
He thought names would disappear.
That he’d forget his family.
But memory isn’t stored in one place.
It’s scattered, layered, repeated.
Surgeons map around it.
They test during surgery if needed.
Memory doesn’t vanish with one incision.
But fear says otherwise.
They said personality changes were guaranteed
She read it online.
That people wake up different.
Cold.
Distant.
Disconnected.
But that depends on where surgery happens.
And how deep.
And why.
The surgeon explained gently,
“You’re still you when you open your eyes.”
Sometimes slower, but not erased.
Recovery isn’t always months in bed
He imagined weeks without walking.
No lights.
No noise.
Just darkness and headaches.
But he was home in three days.
He walked on the fourth.
His stitches itched more than hurt.
Fatigue came, but so did relief.
Rest doesn’t always mean stillness.
They thought shaving the whole head was necessary
She feared that most.
Losing all her hair.
But only a strip was shaved.
Underneath, behind the ear.
Hidden after a week.
No one noticed unless she pointed.
They told her it would change how she thinks forever
She braced for it.
A new mind.
Foggy thinking.
But her thoughts stayed clear.
She could still joke.
Still finish a crossword.
Still recognize patterns.
She forgot one word on day two.
It came back on day three.
One incision doesn’t mean the whole skull is opened
It’s not like movies.
No dramatic flaps.
No metal clinks on trays.
The opening is small.
Just enough to reach.
They go in with tools thinner than a pen.
No space is wasted.
Precision, not drama.
Not all brain surgeries are emergencies
He wasn’t rushed into the room.
There were weeks of appointments first.
Scans.
Discussions.
Second opinions.
Then scheduling.
Surgery didn’t come with sirens.
It came with planning.
Awake surgeries aren’t cruel—they’re necessary
She was terrified of being conscious.
But it was for a reason.
They needed her speech.
Her motion.
Her awareness.
So they mapped safely.
She talked through parts of it.
And that’s what protected her function.
They thought scars would always show
His scar was behind the hairline.
Even his barber missed it.
It healed quietly.
Thin and pale.
Nothing like what he’d imagined.
She believed it would be painful the entire time
There was discomfort.
But not constant pain.
Medication helped.
Rest helped more.
The fear had built it up worse than reality.
Pain was part of it.
But not the only part.
They said it would change who she was
That she’d become slower.
Colder.
Less herself.
But she still laughed at the same things.
Still remembered childhood songs.
Still hated early mornings.
She was still her.
Just healing.
You don’t lose your intelligence
He feared forgetting numbers.
Formulas.
Languages.
But his logic stayed.
His mind knew the way
Even when his body needed time
The brain re-routes more than we think
The idea of brain surgery sounds bigger than it sometimes is
Not all surgeries are life-or-death
Some are routine now
Some take two hours
Then home by evening
The word brain carries weight
But not every case is catastrophic
They told her she wouldn’t move the same again
She walked slower at first
But she walked
And climbed stairs
And drove again
Recovery isn’t instant
But it’s not always permanent loss
They assumed only older people need it
He was 29
Fit
Active
And needed surgery
Age doesn’t shield you
Sometimes it hides symptoms longer
That’s all
People thought she would never feel normal again
But she did
Not right away
But within weeks
She laughed
Ate
Showered
Felt like herself
Healing didn’t erase her
It returned her