Category: Rupture

8 Years And Counting

Published on by heiditea2 Comments

20141004-230625.jpgI say it every year around this time but Happy Annie-versary to me! 8 years ago today I suffered a ruptured brain aneurysm at home. I believe I was guided by God’s hand to go into the ER when I did. I KNEW it was something I had never experienced before and wanted to get it checked out because it scared me. I was only vaguely aware of the term aneurysm because a cousin had one coiled a few years earlier. I had no idea just how serious it was for her and just how my life, and my family’s life, would be changed.

No, I wasn’t sent to Boston for my surgery. My particular aneurysm was a good candidate for the relatively new procedure called coiling. What I know NOW, but didn’t know then, is that the rather large, 1/2″ diameter brain aneurysm is actually sitting on my optic nerve and the head of neurology was nervous about doing the more invasive procedure of a craniotomy and clipping (which I just went through with my un-ruptured aneurysm). Thankfully the staff right here in Maine at Maine Medical Center were more than capable of handling that procedure and are now in 2014 even MORE prepared to handle all of the new treatments available.

16 coils and four additional coils, a stent, a craniotomy, and now a metal clip, and here I still am. It was a frustrating recovery in 2006 and I am now meeting, and hopefully assisting, recent survivors at our brain aneurysm support group. We’re all lucky. We survived.

I’ve given up asking “why did I survive” and why didn’t Dave’s niece Kim or my sister Dori survive their ruptures. There is no answer. God had other plans I guess.

I mentioned to my mother earlier in the week that I had finished the first round of layouts for the ENTIRE catalog for next year’s book. Ironically, 8 years ago, I remembered celebrating that milestone and one or two days later, the brain aneurysm ruptured. I’m still working just as hard, still stressing just as much, but a little bit more tired this year because my UN-ruptured brain aneurysm was clipped in January. One of the side effects from THAT surgery is when I’m overly tired, my left eye lid gets droopy and even though it doesn’t look it, I feel like my brain and skull are swollen when I’ve worked too hard. Yes, I still push myself. It’s my job, it’s my responsibility. I do have limits though….you’d think I would have learned that 8 years ago. LOL

I still don’t eat as well as I should and I don’t get enough exercise. Perhaps that part of my brain that activates motivation has changed. Who knows, but I’m here. No special celebration today, just making home made chili in the crockpot, working on the catalog (yes, on the weekend!) and hanging out with my Maine Man and my kitty cats. That’s more than I was doing eight years ago in ICU.

If I’m able to help any other survivors and help spread the word about the symptoms and treatments of these silent killers, then I’m hopefully turning something bad into a more positive thing. There are days I don’t want to talk about brain aneurysms. There are days I don’t want to think about them, but I can’t get away from them. That’s the sad truth. So, I’m trying to make the best of it and try to help others LIVE in whatever way they’re able to. They are a part of my everyday living.

For those of you still struggling, you’re not alone and things will get better with time. Just treat yourself right, enjoy life, and celebrate the people around you. You just never know.

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Photo taken on my first walk outside after craniotomy in January this year.

It Has Been A Week

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I have been close to tears about five times this week. None of these times actually produced tears, mostly because two of the times were at work, so I really kept it in, but the other times certainly could have produced tears….but nothing.

Since my brain aneurysm rupture in 2006 I noticed whatever mechanism within my brain that triggers tears, just isn’t the same. I would feel sad about something, and knew I would normally be crying over it, but the tears would not come. I’d be curious to know if any other brain aneurysm survivors have experienced the same thing. However, when those tears DO start flowing it’s difficult for me to shut them off and they completely drain my body and brain of any needed functionality.

Tonight I opened that valve and the tears are flowing. This Sunday is Mother’s Day. Normally a happy occasion for families to celebrate their moms with gifts and spend time with mother’s, granddaughters and grandmother’s. Unfortunately, for my family, it’s a sad occasion and doubly so this year. No, my mother hasn’t left us, but both my sisters have. So not only has a mother lost two daughters, but I’ve lost both my sisters and my niece and nephew have lost their mothers.

My sister Dori had a massive ruptured brain aneurysm ON Mother’s Day in 2012. My husband and I were in London, England when we found out. We cut our trip short to join my family in a two-week, hopeful vigil praying for a miracle that never happened. Technically, we had already lost her on Mother’s Day. I don’t know how my mother or my sister’s son, can ever replace that memory. I know I can’t. Because she died of a brain aneurysm, I’m also tormented by my own demons about how she was misdiagnosed and how I should have pushed her more to insist the Dr’s look closer. Having the “urgent care” president where she was treated admit in a letter, after her death, that aneurysm signs were missed, makes it even more heart wrenching.

My “Family” mailbox in my Email now only consists of my husband and my niece. No other relative emails me. In fact I didn’t even know my cousin’s husband had died because she didn’t email me and none of her brother’s or sisters did. I miss my emails from Dori and Rhonda and Mom. Since mom had to switch to a laptop from WebTV, she hasn’t been able to understand and grasp using a computer, so we no longer have that convenient form of communication. She doesn’t call me, due to the cost, but I call her two times a week. And as I sit here typing this, I am bawling and feeling horribly pain in my head, that is just short of 4-months out of open brain surgery to repair my 2nd aneurysm.

Searing pain around the side of my head that is made worse by the stress of crying…and I can’t stop. I want, and desperately need a day off of work to get some sleep and rest, but there are meetings I must attend. Why I’m asked to attend some of these meetings, when my ideas and recommendations are met with a giant eye-roll and dismissed, is something I don’t understand. Even though I was apart of developing the program that’s being discussed and am very familiar with how it works, being treated that way in front of many others (for a 2nd time) can lead to tears, but I held it together…until now. So on top of grieving again for my sister, I’m dealing with being dismissed at work and just getting there on a daily basis while I’m still recovering.

Then there is my darling niece who will have to endure her first Mother’s Day without her mom because my other sister Rhonda died just 4 months ago. My poor mother has lost two daughters and I’m all she’s got left. And even SHE is having issues right now with horrible pain in her back, which brings back many memories of my sister Dori. She had horrible back pain for months before finally having surgery a few weeks before her death and I’d talk to her on the phone as she was in that pain and knew she had been crying due to that pain.

So when I hear my 87-year old mother talk about getting to the point where the pain makes her cry, how can I NOT think about my sister. I don’t know what to do to help my mom when she’s in NY and I’m in Maine. She’s been to two doctor’s and they’ve given her patches and some meds and told her to stop lifting things. Great. That’s great advice…but do they know what is actually wrong? I doubt it.

So, that crying thing is very difficult. We’re told it’s good to cry every once in awhile to get it out of your system….they say it’s a “good cry”. Well, for me, a cry is never good. My head feels like the skin and muscles are being pulled away from my brain right now. And it won’t settle down, until I settle down. Poor Dave has tried to console me, but I don’t even know what I need. I guess a “good cry” and venting in my blog will have to suffice for now even though I know I won’t feel any better physically or mentally afterwards.

Bad form Facebook. Just bad.

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There is a birthday calendar reminder on Facebook. I normally like it as it sends up a reminder a few days before one of your “FRIENDS” has a birthday coming up.

However, I was unprepared for the reminder email I got tonight reminding me that my deceased sister’s birthday is coming up and I should remember to send her a Birthday Greeting.

Excuse me? What? Is this from the same account that we worked with Facebook on in memorizlising after her death? We had to send a copy of the death certificate and proof she had died complete with date, year, and obit to get her account distinguished like that.

Wouldn’t one think if they had received that type of very personal and devestating info, they’d automatically remove that account from being sent out on birthday reminders? Well, that makes sense.

Now, if we want to delete or deactivate the account we’re forced to go through the same damn procedure AGAIN. Ridiculous.

Obviously, I knew Dori’s birthday was coming up this Friday and I was already not looking forward to the day, then to be reminded of it in such a careless way is inexusable and thoughtless. Tears flowed and my heart broke…oh, I’d LOVE to wish her a Happy Birthday but a ruptured brain aneurysm killed her.

Thanks, but no thanks, for the lovely email reminder Facebook.

Seven Year Itch

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Seven years ago last weekend, my larger 11 mm brain aneurysm ruptured. Each year I have tried to do something special to remember that day and celebrate my life. Some “celebrations” have been more elaborate than others, like treating myself to a spa day, and others have been low-key affairs mostly due to the time of year because I’m so busy at work in October.

This year proved to be one of those low-key affairs. I had been working long hours on Saturday for a few weeks, but my annie-versary this year fell on a Saturday. So, I took this day off. Then went out for dinner and a movie with my Maine Man. Nothing incredibly special, but it was a night out. I’ll take it.

However, this year, I got grumpy. Almost ticked off. Not AT anyone per say, but I’m a survivor and no one took much notice. (how were they supposed to know anyway?) I guess I need to climb mountains or run major marathons to get acknowledged, as one local woman did and received a huge article in the paper as a result.

The last few years, at our annual KAT-Walk & KARO-5K, I have met survivors who have survived multiple aneurysms and are beating the odds simply be being alive, much less driving and taking care of their children. Some have more help than others and some are dealing with more issues related to the brain aneurysm. Don’t you think they ALL need some attention and love from the state?

I guess that’s where my celebration of life turned to the dark side. A Twitter friend sent me the link to the local newpaper article. It’s a wonderful story of survival…it truly is, but it rubbed me the wrong way especially on the day of my anniversary. It had nothing to do with the fact a survivor had such a strong light shown on her, and it was truly deserved. I think it’s because I see the volunteers (ALL volunteers) put their blood, sweat, tears, and hard-earned money into publicizing our event every September and this article came out in October. September is Brain Aneurysm Awareness Month in Maine. The article would have been terrific the week prior to our walk – which is the only one of its kind here in Maine (MaineBA.org). It was all about the timing of that article that bothered me.

I don’t know what else we can do to try and get the medical community and media community involved. We’ve made them aware of the events. We’ve given them brochures to hand out. We’ve sent them to our website and Facebook page, but actually getting someone to film, write, and participate in our event and has been a huge struggle. I guess we need a celebrity…oh, wait…we’ve even tried contacting with them too! No Patrick Dempsey or Joan Benoit in our camp to help bring in coverage – just a terrific group of volunteers.

If I HAD the money, I’d name a hallway in Maine Medical Center’s 608 Neuro-ward and call it Heidi’s Hallway. I spent many hours walking that hallway….sometime’s running into the walls, somethings only making a few steps with everything that was hooked up to me. I’m one of the lucky ones, but I’m unable to get more focus on the people who have survived ruptured brain aneurysms. If I had more money, I’d sponsor a car in NASCAR for Brain Aneurysm Awareness and get to yell “Drivers, Start Your ENGINES! with a group of survivors”. If I had more money, I’d sponsor a night at a Portland Pirates game for Brain Aneurysm Awareness and have survivors come out on the field and be recognized…together as a united, strong front. If I had more money…I’d have my sister scanned to make sure she too, doesn’t have a brain aneurysm like our sister Dori had. But I don’t, I haven’t, and I’m unable to.

All I can do is continue to bring awareness to brain aneurysms without much money and support from the state or medical community, but through the kindness of family members, friends, and complete strangers who have been affected by brain aneurysms. I HOPE our efforts have helped save some lives. I HOPE other survivors see our stories…read our stories, and come to share THEIR stories with us at the KAT-Walk & KARO-5K each September. It’s all we can do with limited funding and a large group of caring volunteers here in Maine.

So, you’ll just have to forgive my selfish rant that an article wasn’t written about ME on my 7th annie-versary. I should get an award just for survivor the months of August, September and October at work. But I’ll take a quiet dinner with my Maine Man and a movie – that’s probably more than a lot of survivors get.

Stay strong, be proud of your accomplishments, and tell people your story…it could save a life and help other survivors know they’re not alone.