A H.E.R.O Among Us

On this past Labor Day holiday weekend, Dave and I attended the Nolan’s H.E.R.O. Foundation 1st Annual 5K Run & 3.13K Walk in Pittsfield, Maine. About a 40 mile drive north from where we live. We brought a Brain Aneurysm Awareness tent and information regarding brain aneurysms.

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Nolan’s H.E.R.O. Foundation is a non-profit organization formed to carry on the mission of Nolan Berthelette. who lost his life to a ruptured brain aneurysm just a little over a year ago in 2014. At the very young age of 14, Nolan’s death struck a chord in this tight-knit community and the outpouring of support his family has received is overwhelming and inspiring.

Last year, just a short time after we heard of Nolan’s death, our group contacted the family to see if there was anything they needed or if we could lend support and comfort. We were surprised when a group of over 160 people arrived at our KAT-Walk & Karo-5K just a few short months after losing their son, brother, friend and team mate to this silent killer. Emotions were still very raw and many had a difficult time, but we had hoped the support and comfort they felt from the local brain aneurysm community would help in some small way on their paths to healing.

When Nolan’s parents set up their H.E.R.O. Foundation and pursued holding an event in Pittsfield, we knew we had to have a presence in some form and show OUR support in return for their event. Sadly, it was just Dave and I from the group in the southern part of the state, but it was an honor to be there and help in any way we could. We provided almost off their tents and their fantastic crew of volunteers made setup and tear down an easy experience.

Ray, Amy and Nason are still grieving the loss of Nolan, but setting up the foundation and creating, what they hope to be an annual event, allows then to be able to DO something, where they weren’t able to save Nolan. I know that’s something that everyone struggles with after losing someone: if they only could have DONE something to save them or help. That helplessness and lack of control can linger for years.

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As we arrived in Pittsfield at the Maine Central Institute’s football field, the town was still waking up on a brilliant morning filled with blue skies, light fog, and the hangover of Nolan’s former football team kicking butt & taking names the previous night on that very field with a 64-0 win! How appropriate.

The number of volunteers and donated items was remarkable. Truly a community effort. So many parents knew Nolan because of his friendship with their children and they know and love Ray & Amy and wanted to show their support in any way they could. Cheerleaders from the school were there to cheer on participants, the entire football team, tired from the previous night, showed an amazing amount of energy and support and helped in any way they could.

Since we were in a tent representing what killed Nolan, we weren’t sure how many people would stop to talk with us, but it was a nice mix of curious adults and teens and those who knew someone else who had a brain aneurysm as well and I think they all appreciated us being there, even if it was a painful reminder.

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The most poignant moment for me was when a group of young ladies from Nolan’s school came to the table. I think they were mostly there for the free brain aneurysm awareness bracelets, but they did ask a few questions and seemed genuinely, albeit hesitantly, interested in exactly what had happened to Nolan. Dave tried to be very sympathetic and careful in explaining what an aneurysm was and how it effects the brain when it ruptures. At one point I saw one of the girls place her arm around another lovely young ladies’ waist for comfort. It’s those simple gestures of compassion that can mean the most to someone who has lost a loved one to brain aneurysms. I know…I’ve been there.

I think the family, Nolan’s classmates, and the community are moving in a good direction by honoring Nolan in such a positive way. I never knew Nolan, but the stories I hear about him indicate he was a very special young man and had an amazing life ahead of him. The number of orange items, Nolan’s favorite color, was evident throughout the event in his honor.

H.E.R.O. stands for Helping Everyone Realize Opportunities. “Being a hero doesn’t take someone that is superior to others or with an abnormal power. All it takes is an average human willing to do what is right for others.” Those are words written by Nolan in his last essay and they have inspired Ray and Amy to create the foundation.

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If you know someone who is “willing to do what is right for others”, let the world know and nominate them for a “I Am A H.E.R.O” bracelet on the Nolan’s H.E.R.O. Foundation website.

I think everyone knows an unsung hero in their life. Why not recognize them in a special way and let the world know they are a true H.E.R.O.

Reminders

Our monthly brain aneurysm support group meetings are a wonderful way for survivors, their supporters and for those who have lost loved ones to come together and discuss this horrible thing that connects them. The fantastic medical professionals who have come to speak with us have opened the eyes of those who haven’t been educated themselves and have helped supporters gain a better understanding of what their loved one has gone through. I rarely come away from the meetings feeling anything other than positive energy and proud of the group, but tonight was different.

Dori and I in Maine Three years ago tomorrow, we had to say goodbye to my sister Dori. Her rupture was massive and deadly. She ruptured on Mother’s Day and was kept on life support until the 29th of May. No signs of life and no signs of recovery were recorded. They had shaved her long, thick, mostly gray hair from her head completely. She was on life support, a ventilator, and had a drain set up to alleviate and remove fluid on her brain. It’s an image that still haunts me as the last time I saw her.

Some of our discussions this evening at the support group centered on drains and locations of brain aneurysms. Dori’s aneurysm ruptured on her brain stem, which was catostrophic. As these discussions took place tonight with a survivor who had a drain and a rupture, the image of Dori in that hospital bed was running on a loop in my head. I’m glad we flew back from London immediately to see her at the time, but it technically wasn’t her in that bed. She really was gone the day of the rupture but I see her in that bed this week and my heart hurts because I miss her so very much.

I know for those who have lost a loved one, the support group can be sad, educational and scary all at the same time. Usually I’m naturally focused on the survivor side of it because I am one, but unfortunately, I also have the flip side as part of my life in losing my sister and Dave’s niece to massive ruptures. The successes (me surviving I guess) don’t quite balance out the failures (losing Dori and Kim) but life still goes on around us and I’m still alive to try and help others if I can. If we’re able to get one person scanned or help one survivor understand their situation better and offer comfort, then those lives lost will always be with us as a reminder at how precious life is and how we all can DO something.

Celebrating My Brain Bling – Year 1

Sung to the tune of “The Twelve Days of Christmas” starting with the 4th day….

“On the 17th of January my neurosurgeon gave to me:

  • 53 dissolving sutures
  • several plates and screws
  • one titanium clip
  • and a dent in the side of my head.”

Yep…that’s what happened a year ago today when I had my 2nd brain aneurysm surgically clipped. It hadn’t ruptured, which was a far different situation from my other aneurysm rupturing in 2006. This second aneurysm, although a riskier procedure, was more of a preventative. Because I’m susceptible to ruptures, lost my sister Dori to a ruptured brain aneurysm that was about the same size, and this second one was starting to grow, everyone felt it was in my best interested to go ahead with the procedure. Get the darn thing before it got me.

Now, don’t get me wrong…the decision was not an easy one and one I didn’t take lightly. Not only did I know the risks going in, but I also knew how the decision and any possible bad outcome would effect my family. That being said, once I DID make the decision, it was “LET’S DO THIS!”. I wanted it done sooner, rather than later, but my work schedule prevented a quicker date with the surgeons.

Having a doctor who you have confidence in and who has been inside your brain before was a huge plus. He didn’t force me to have the surgery. I could have waited if I wanted to, but I think we both knew my specific risk factors were significant enough to have the surgery. I already have 20 coils and one stent in the other brain aneurysm – what’s one more tiny clip and a few pins and screws?

I won’t go through the minutia of the surgery again as it has already been well documented in this blog, but I’m doing well. I still have issues with fatigue, my scalp feeling numb and odd aches and pains on my skull from time to time when I got overly tired or for other reasons I have yet to determine. Open brain surgery is very scary and certainly risky. I’m one of the lucky ones. Even with the dent and bumps in my head, the alternative is worse for everyone in my life.

Me! Brain Aneurysm Survivor
I have a “Brain Aneurysm Survivor” sweatshirt that I wear occasionally. Some people might find that self-promotion a little tacky. If a breast cancer survivor walked by me with a shirt saying ‘Breast Cancer Survivor”, I’d give them a thumbs up, perhaps a hug, and certainly congratulate them. I don’t EXPECT any response when I wear my sweatshirt, but it’s something I’m proud of and if it initiates a conversation with someone who may not have a lot of knowledge of brain aneurysms, perhaps I can even save a darn life.

So, on today’s 1st anniversary of my newly acquired brain bling, I don’t know what to call it. My previous anniversaries I have call my “annie-versary”. Annie for aneurysm…get it? But what does one call the clipping anniversary. A clip-aversary? A craniot-iversary? A bling-aversary? I guess I’ll just called it “a year out” and wear my “Brain Aneurysm Survivor” sweatshirt to work.

 

11-Month Update

I realized I haven’t given much of an update on how my brain aneurysm is doing for many months. My 2nd aneurysm was clipped 11 months ago.

Physically, the hair has all grown back and didn’t ALL come back in gray, but certainly one streak snuck it’s way through. A few blonde highlights helped cover that up temporarily.

The incision where the skin was pulled back, then replaced and sown on with 53 stitches is almost non-existent. I say “almost” because there are still some dry, itchy spots directly along the incision cut that’ll flare up occasionally.

I do still have quite a good chunk of my scalp that doesn’t have much feeling and some nights it’s uncomfortable to lay on the left side of my face and head still. I haven’t been able to determine what triggers that uncomfortable feeling yet. But I certainly feel it and know that the brain bling, the bone plate and screws are there and making their presence known.

A good indentation has now become more pronounced where the piece of skull was removed the replaced, however. I can cover it up with my bangs for the most part, but I know it’s there and I’m a tad self-conscious about it. I don’t know why I feel that way….I should be proud of my battle scars and brain bling.

I believe I’m supposed to have a follow-up angiogram in January and I’m looking forward to finally seeing the images of the clip and it’s location. And hopefully everything will look good with the clip as well as the other, older, clip-filled aneurysm and they don’t locate any others.

I’m so ready to kick the year 2014 in the arse and kiss it goodbye.

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Still looks better than it did 11 months ago below

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Post-surgery. Yikes!

The day after craniotomy & brain aneurysm clipping