Last year before Dave and I left for England and eventually Scotland, my sister Dori sent me a very colorful little metal tin in the mail. Inside it was a wonderful note and two $50 bills for me to spend. I did take those $50 bills with me and I did spend them. Unfortunately, I was unable to tell her what I bought because she suffered a ruptured brain aneurysm while we were in London. We cut our trip short to rush back home to be with her. She never woke up.
So, it was with a heavy heart, but very fond memories that I actually took the tin Dori sent me to Scotland with us last month and I picked up some pieces of Scotland to put into the tin in her honor and bring them back. Once I told Helen about this, she was terrific in picking up some small things for me to include as mementos.
We gathered some small seashells and one connected shell that won’t fit in the tin, but it survived the flight and has a place of honor. Helen picked up a sort of pussy willow and a tiny blue flower that didn’t do so well on the trip, but it’s included. I also brought home some of the pretty white sand from the Silver Sands of Morar.
I’m not sure why I did it, but I just felt it was a way to have Dori with me on the trip and to bring her back some kind of souvenir. However silly it may seem to others, it had great meaning to me and I’m really glad I have those with me now in that colorful tin that Dori took the time, when she was battling back surgery and in great pain, to send me.
As my annual angiogram checkup on my brain aneuryms is looming closer, so is the anniversary of the day my sister had her rupture and eventually died. I’m not looking forward to either date.
I’ve been thinking about Dori a lot lately and last night I actually had a dream where we discovered she was alive. It was a shocking event. I saw her in either a hospital or hotel or airport, I cannot remember which. At first it was disbelieve, then she spoke and said “Yes, I’m here!”. I screamed, my knees buckled and I cried and cried with joy. Then I woke up. Reality.
In hind sight, perhaps planning our trip to Scotland this year at the same time we did our trip to London last year wasn’t the brightest of ideas, but it’s the best time to do it at work and it’s beautiful in the UK that time of year….or so we’re told. Last year’s trip was cut short due to Dori’s rupture so obviously I’ll be remembering it as we go cross the big pond again. But I think I would have those thoughts no matter what time of year we went, so just best get it over with, right?
I miss her terribly…as does everyone in my family. I miss her emails telling me stories about her son and what funny things he says. I miss her laugh when we spoke on the phone. I miss knowing she was close to my mom should she need her and I miss the comforting way that she had. I always knew I could vent to her, as she could vent to me and it would stay between us. I ache with missing her.
I also miss a time when I didn’t know what the hell a brain aneurysm was. I’m angry that brain aneurysms have effected both of my families in such a traumatic way and I miss a day when I didn’t have to worry about my own aneurysms. Reality can really suck sometimes.
Last year around this time, I received a small colorful tin box in the mail. Inside was a note that read “As you finish packing for your honeymoon, I hope you have enough room left for the twins! They so want to go with you and don’t seem to really care if you bring them back home. Have a wonderful and, hopefully relaxing time together. Enjoy! Love you, Dori”. The “twins” were two fifty dollar bills she had enclosed in the box wrapped in tissue paper. I’m clutching it to my heart as I type this through my tears. I DID take those twins to the UK and I did spend them as instructed.
Reading that note again I am reminded of how selfless Dori was and how she was always thinking of others. At the time she sent that, she was going through some medical issue with some serious back pain and had had back surgery. She had been miserable for months and I felt helpless in not being able to assist her in any way. I did call and let her vent, but that was all I could do from Maine. Sending her a “Get Better Bear” was about the only thing I knew would at least bring a smile to her face. Little did I know those would be the last gifts we would ever exchange.
I plan to take that colorful tin with me to Scotland. I know Dori was very excited for Dave and I to be going and maybe I’ll pull a sprig of heather from the highlands, place it in the box and bring it home with me just for her.
I’m still angry and disappointed Dori’s aneurysm was not discovered before it ruptured. She knew the dangers and even accompanied me for two of my brain aneurysm procedures here in Maine. Out of anyone in my family, she was the most educated. So it’s quite ironic and horribly sad that she was the one who was taken.
I plead with anyone who has had a ruptured brain aneurysm in their family, to have the other family members get scanned. Fight with your Dr’s and insurance companies…it could be your life you save. You CAN survive an aneurysm…a ruptured one gives you fewer odds of survival. For some reason, I’m one of the lucky ones. I don’t know why and I’m often angry about it when two people I loved very much didn’t, but that’s the deck of cards I have been dealt. Apparently, I’m just going to have to deal with it…no matter how much I miss those who weren’t so “lucky”.
The Dance for Brain Aneurysm Awareness event was held last Saturday at the Legion in Westbrook, Maine. Over 200 people attended and it’s believed over $4,000 was raised. It was the first event of this type that the Maine Brain Aneurysm Awareness group has held, and by all accounts, it was a success!
Dave and I arrived early to help set up. One of the nice things about this indoor event was we didn’t have to deal with gusty winds like we do at the walk/run in September. It was a joy to not have to weight everything down and set up tents to protect us from the elements. As a result, setup went fairly quickly.
What took more time was setting up all of the wonderful items that were collected for the Chinese and Silent auctions. Some truly wonderful gift baskets, artwork, and gift cards made for some interesting bidding wars throughout the evening. I won a beautiful painting of a door with two plantings on either side of the entrance. It spoke to me when I first saw it.
Our DJ, Gloria played and sang music from many eras and genres. She pretty much had something for everyone to dance to. Once the lights were turned down, many people took to the floor and boogied. Since I was suffering from pleurisy, I was showing restraint and only did two slow dances with Dave all night. That was about my speed. LOL
The date for the dance was set based on the birthdays of Kim Tudor (Dave’s niece) and Karolina Kurka. Last weekend just happen to fall in between both their birthdays, so it seemed an appropriate time to honor them both, as well as bring to light more awareness and understanding of brain aneurysms, and hopefully help any other families in the area who may have been touched by aneurysms. A few new people did show up and some members of the medical community came, which was truly wonderful!
As Kim’s mother had a difficult time with this event being held so close to Kim’s birthday, I was reminded of how fresh and painful these types of losses can be. The anniversary of my sister’s death is looming ever closer in May and next month I will be having my
aneurysms checked yet again with an angiogram.
But I am very thankful for this band of volunteers and their families who are making the healing less painful and showing us that we can get through this as a community. The unfortunate camaraderie we share is a comfort and the friends I’ve made through this tragedy have truly touched me.
Keep an eye on the MaineBA.org website for more photos of the event once we’re able to gather them all.
Yesterday was a sad, horrible anniversary. The day Kim passed from a sudden ruptured brain aneurysm in 2008. It was a horrible, horrible, day just a few days after we had spent Christmas with her. One I’d love to forget and wipe from my memory. Unfortunately, just as thousands of other families deal with, it’s a memory I cannot forget.
The police tape, the medical vehicles, the tragic cries of a mother losing her only child…it’s a day no one should have to live through and one that haunts me on this “anniversary”. Yes, it’s a day I’d love to forget.
From the sadness and horror of that day, Kim’s family and friends have had to deal with the difficult task of moving on without her in their lives, just as thousands of other families do each year. We aren’t special in that respect, but Kim sure was. I prefer to remember her smile, her laugh, and her kindness. Not the horrific scenes of that day four years ago.
I know Kim wouldn’t want us to dwell on that day either and to move forward and create something positive out of a horrible event so that her friends and family can heal and provide the kind of help and kindness to others that Kim was so famous for.
Unfortunately, my family has been touched by brain aneurysms. I have two older first cousins who are survivors. I, myself, have survived a rupture and we’re monitoring another smaller aneurysm and possible issues with the 11 mm aneurysm that originally ruptured. Then, only 7 months ago, I lost my sister Dori to a massive rupture. Yes, they CAN be hereditary, but that isn’t always the case. It’s just horribly ironic that Kim (not a blood relative of mine) was also taken in such a fashion. I’ll never forget getting that news of the cause of death. Survivor’s guilt doesn’t even begin to describe it for me. Again…a day I’d love to forget.
After my ruptured brain aneurysm, no events, or groups to help support me were available in the state of Maine. My only solace and assistance came from online message boards where I have met some amazing people who have survived much worse than me but share many of the same issues I did and still do. I found great comfort in my online community. My friends didn’t rally around me at my bedside or offer to start a walk or group to support others. There was nothing…other than my saint of a husband. Most people don’t realize the burden his shoulders have carried since 2006. I’m a very lucky woman.
It wasn’t until we lost Kim to the same ailment that almost took my life, that a decision was made here in Maine to DO something about making people aware of what a brain aneurysm is, what it can do to you, how it can be treated, and how, as a community, we can help other families in the same kind of need I was in in 2006 and beyond.
Sadly, my sister Dori was very knowledgable about brain aneurysms and she traveled to Maine on several occasions to be with me and Dave during my procedures. How tragic it is then, that we weren’t even able to save her life. BUT, she knew there was a community in Maine that was trying to DO something to help survivors and families deal with such trauma. She dealt with that trauma herself and I KNOW the information and support we provided others was also of comfort to her and my family.
In 2009, Kim’s close friends and family organized the KAT-Walk for brain aneurysm awareness and to honor Kim’s sweet memory. As Kim did, it’s a way to give back and to support those effected by brain aneurysms. She was the first one looking up what a brain aneurysm was on the computer after I had my rupture and she was the first one to meet me in ICU when I arrived by ambulance that morning. I had very few visitors in the hospital or at home after my surgery, but Kim was one of those and she had the opportunity to meet Dori during that time as well.
I think Kim would be proud of the efforts her family and friends have made in the state of Maine to bring awareness and support to brain aneurysms. The number of families we continue to touch, not only in Maine, but throughout New England, is truly amazing and quite sad as well. There are tremendous survivor stories and tragic losses, but each year we’re becoming a loving and supporting community that gains strength from one another and finds a way to comfort those in need. I think that’s what Kim was all about – and God knows I needed the community this past September. I walked alone that day, but knew both Kim and Dori were beside me.
So, remembering the anniversary of Kim’s death isn’t something I enjoy doing. I’d rather forget that day and remember the date of her birth in March instead…because that’s when an angel was sent to touch the lives of all those around her, even if it was just for a short time. And she’s still touching lives in a very positive way.
We gathered some small seashells and one connected shell that won’t fit in the tin, but it survived the flight and has a place of honor. Helen picked up a sort of pussy willow and a tiny blue flower that didn’t do so well on the trip, but it’s included. I also brought home some of the pretty white sand from the Silver Sands of Morar.
I’m not sure why I did it, but I just felt it was a way to have Dori with me on the trip and to bring her back some kind of souvenir. However silly it may seem to others, it had great meaning to me and I’m really glad I have those with me now in that colorful tin that Dori took the time, when she was battling back surgery and in great pain, to send me.
Heidi's Brain Blog 