The Good, The Bad, and The Tired

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Tonight was my first time back to our brain aneurysm support group meeting since probably last September, possibly August. During catalog season I’m always working late and far too tired to go anywhere during the week. Ironically, fatigue and memory is a common theme at many of our meetings as it was tonight.

As always, it was good to see returning faces and I missed a few who weren’t there. We’re getting a nice “core” of survivors, care-givers, and those who have lost loved ones. The support is always there and we all try to listen to each other’s stories and offer validation for feelings and emotions that only those who have gone through the same thing can appreciate.

Unfortunately, I’ve had the brain aneurysm double-whammy; I myself, have suffered a ruptured brain aneurysm, and I have lost two loved ones to ruptures. I’ve seen both sides of the caregiving aspect, or those left behind, and I’ve also been a part of the survival and recovery part. Each part has struggles and pain.

Tonight, a father shared the story of the night his adult son’s brain aneurysm ruptured. It was a violent rupture and if he had been home alone, he would not have survived. His wife was able to revive him briefly – twice. He survived surgeries and a little bit of rehab and multiple rounds of different medications. He was at our meeting tonight while his father described the night it all happened to us. Even though his short-term memory has basically been lost, he cannot work or drive, and his family continues to endure a level of frustration and pain I cannot even begin to understand for several years now. But he IS alive, walking, talking, and able to function in some capacity.

Hearing a caregiver, and a father, talk about what happened that night, was difficult for me. My sister and Dave’s niece went through very similar experiences….or we can assume. My mind immediately raced to Dori’s rupture and how she lost consciousness on Mother’s Day and her husband was able to revive her while their 15-year old son called 911. But by that point it was too late. The damage from the rupture had already been done.

Then I thought about Kim, who was home alone when her rupture occurred. I can only hope and pray it was quick, but I also always wonder if someone had been there and found her sooner, if she’d be here today and if she were, what kind of life would she be living. The severity of her rupture and the location of it, leads me to believe Kim would not be the same person if she had survived. The same can be said for Dori.

We witnessed tonight the amazement in seeing a survivor of such a devastating rupture, but also the heart-wrenching pain in knowing their loved one will never be the same. That they can no long take care of themselves or their children. That they need major supervision. That they need to be reminded of things on an hourly basis to get through the day…yes, they DID survive, but in a sad way, they’re only a shell of the person they once were.

Is it only by the grace of God, that I am here today? Why did I survive and they did not? Why did I survive with very few deficits when others have continued issues and pain, even years after their ruptures?

I don’t like it when I come away from one of our meetings with these kind of questions. I should just be grateful and keep my mouth shut and never complain about anything, ever again. I AM one of the lucky ones…or one of the chosen ones…or just a person who was in the right place at the right time, with the right set of doctors. Fate? I don’t know.

I suppose those are all questions that will have to remain unanswered. Kind of like “Why doesn’t Fred Flinstone have horribly bloody feet when he has to stop his rock car with his heels?” Why? Why?

Two-Year Clip-Aversary

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Me! Brain Aneurysm Survivor
On the anniversary of my ruptured brain aneurysm in 2006 and subsequent coiling, I call it my “Annie-versary” stealing the phrase from other survivors from the Brain Talk Community online who helped me through my recovery. For some reason I feel I need to give my 2nd brain aneurysm procedure (the clipping) a different annual name. Like I’ll be criticized for calling that an Annie-versary too? LOL I doubt it, but I do.

Saturday is the two-year anniversary of the clipping on my second, unruptured brain aneurysm. It turned out to be a delicate aneurysm and it was a delicate time. I had lost my other sister just a few weeks prior to my scheduled surgery and I was wrestling with whether I should go through with the surgery or not. It wasn’t until my niece and mother (who we lost last year) spoke to me and encouraged me to proceed, that I made the final decision to keep the date and proceed. I truly didn’t want to put them through anymore.

I think some angels were watching over me because it was a good thing I DID get the craniotomy & clipping. It was an ugly, thin-walled brain aneurysm that would have surely caused me issues, if not caused my death, at some point down the road.

For my two-year update I’ll recall an earlier format I used to update my family and a few friends on my blog about my recovery process.

FATIGUE: There are still days I KNOW my brain had too much stimulation. It’s difficult to describe other than my brain is tired. I suppose that is something that will never go away. It does get better, but I’ll be able to realize when I need to rest my brain. Not just sleep, but do nothing…think about nothing…just nothing. I need those days still. I also notice my left eye lid will get a bit droopy when I’m overly tired and haven’t eaten much.

PAIN: 
These days, the only pain I feel that is associated directly to the clipping is on the left side of my skull. I have no idea what triggers the pain and I often have difficulty laying on the left side of my head. It “feels” like my brain shifts to the left against my skull and there is pressure there. It’s not a daily pain, but I certainly notice it when it is bothering me and I have to roll over and lay on the right side. Sneezing doesn’t bother me, but coughing really does. I feel it throughout my head and it makes me tired.

NUMBNESS:
 As many people said, including the Dr., this may or may not go away. The skin on my skull hasn’t completely “reconnected” all of the nerves, so a great chunk of it is still numb. I only notice it when others touch my head now. My hair dresser or Dave. At least it’s not painful….just odd. I certainly could have worse issues, so I consider myself lucky.

STITCHES/INCISION:
 I can feel the incision under my hair line and the hair has all grown back so that part isn’t even visible anymore. As the swelling went down and I lost a little bit of weight (20 lbs at one point), the bone flap area “settled” into the skull quite a bit and a dent has appeared. The pins and small plates that secured the bone flap back onto the skull area are also visible and sticking out under the skin on the skull and I most certainly feel them. I’m not crazy about the dent or the brain “bling”, but it is what it is and I doubt anyone but me would really notice them. Although when I have my hair parted differently and the light hits it just right, Dave will notice and always points it out. I’ve seen much worse dents on other survivors I have met, so in comparison, I’m lucky.

Found this great PDF: https://profiles.utsouthwestern.edu/profile/67812/assets/patient-information.pdf

And this one: http://www.mayfieldclinic.com/PE-Craniotomy.htm

BRAIN FUNCTION:
Well, I have survived two more catalog seasons, so I guess my brain function is doing okay. I certainly feel tired at times, but I’m very, VERY lucky that I can drive, work, read, and function on a daily basis. I’m a little slower and a little more careful when walking and traversing walkways, hills or paths because I have a bit of a fear of slipping or falling and hitting my head.

I do still struggle with some survivor’s guilt. Why, dear Lord, am I so lucky with my multiple brain aneurysms when two (and possibly three) people I loved so much were victims of the same ailment? One can say because God has other plans for me to help others. If that’s the burden I have to carry, then so be it. I can’t say I’m crazy about it though. I’d rather have Kim, Dori, my mom and Rhonda back.

So, I will celebrate my clip-aversary in some fashion I’m sure. I’m glad I’m still here and I hope a few others are as well.

Show and Tell

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A few weeks ago Dave and I attended the 35th Annual Atlantic Partners EMS Seminar at the Samoset Resort in Rockport, Maine. This annual event provides education to the most dedicated emergency medical service personnel, hospital staff and firefighters from Maine and New England. There were pre-conference courses, over 100 continuing education classes, and co-sponsored one day conferences from the Maine Ambulance Association, Maine Committee on Trauma, and Maine Cardiovascular Health Council.

We attended the Friday and Saturday sessions participating in the vendor area where we set up a Maine Brain Aneurysm Awareness table/booth. Not only is it a good way to help raise awareness for brain aneurysms, it’s also a wonderful way to connect with local EMS personenel and medical staff to alert them to the possible symptoms and signs that someone may be experiencing a ruptured brain aneurysm. Because of the nature of my own personal story on the morning of my rupture and my sister’s misdiagnosis and subsequent death from a rupture, Dave and I are particularly sensitive to educating EMS crews.

The morning of my rupture in 2006 presented me some classic stroke symptoms. Upon repeating our story throughout the two days, we saw many eyes being rolled, jaws dropped, and stunned expressions when we told them the ambulance crew did not take me to the ER. They basically left it up to us to go to the ER. I’d like to say I believe some of the protocols have changed since then, but at our monthly brain aneurysm support group meetings, we continue to meet some people who have had some of the same issues, or have been misdiagnosed. So, there is still work to do.

In hindsight, it is so very easy to say that I SHOULD have gone to the hospital. And those shocked expressions from the EMS members we met and THEIR insistance that they would have transported me, certainly made us feel good, but the crew that came to our house couldn’t have realized the seriousness at the time…unless they asked some very pointed questions. I need to cut them some slack; they’re only human despite the fact I could have died later that day, or the next day…..

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The MaineBA Booth

Dave and I met some terrific people who devote so much of their time to helping others and making sure the health and well-being of the general public is a top priority. Some important connections were also made with individuals who can truly make a difference in the state’s regulations and protocols. There were several invitations from local groups for us to come and speak to them about our story and make them aware of what CAN be a serious issue if it’s not addressed in a timely manner.

One of the classes on Saturday afternoon was held by Dr. Evie Marcolini. Her main focus that day was to discuss difficult neuro cases and brain aneurysms were one of the topics. She stopped at our table a few hours prior to her class and spoke to us. Once Dave and I knew she would be addressing brain aneurysms and expressed a deep interest in our story, we felt it necessary to go the class. We both did a good job of making sure we kept to ourselves. This wasn’t a class for us, but for those people who are on the front lines of very difficult situations and we needed to maintain restraint in putting in our two cents.

Dr. Marcolini’s class was really wonderful as she provided several case studies of patients that would have altered mental states and questioned the class on what they would ask, how they would react, and what they would tell emergency room personel. It truly is that communication between the 911 responders and the patient that can set the ball rolling for precise care and attention later on.

What I took away from the two days was how dedicated those folks are and many are volunteers. I was surprised and pleased with the number of people who thanked US for being there and raising awareness. The number of people who knew someone or had a family member with a brain aneurysm was certainly eye opening. It’s a far more prevalent issue thoughout the country and our state. We even think we were able to convince one woman to get a scan. She had a family history and she could be highly succeptable to developing one and it’s far better to know you have it and treat it, then to have it rupture and potentially die as a result. THAT was one of our big messages: make sure EMT personal and 911 operators know of any family history of brain aneursyms and to let them know if a headache is the “worst of your life” and very different than any you have had previously. That’s assuming you are able to speak.

On our drive home, I realized I was tired of hearing my own story. Dave and I both retold it many, many times over the two days and I compared it to show and tell: I was the “show” (look at me, I survived and here are a few scars to prove it) and Dave was the “tell” (here’s what happened). There are those times when I just need to step away from brain aneurysms and take a break. It’s difficult to do since I live with them on a daily basis, but I was glad I had Sunday to detox and reset. It wore me out.

I hope we made an impression on people and that their next emergency call for someone with a horrible headache will result in them asking if they’ve experienced anything like that before or if there is a family history of brain aneurysms. Those two simple questions could save a life and get someone to the ER in time to prevent devastating brain damage.

Thank YOU to everyone who goes out there to help save lives!

On a fun side note:

The celebrity guest at the conference on Saturday was Randolph Mantooth from the 1970’s show EMERGENCY. He played the lovable Johnny Gage and I grew up with that show, so I got a little girl-silly when I saw him. He’s a huge supporter for the emergency medical community and the money raised from his autograph session was going directly to local funds here in Maine.

I actually got in line twice. First time to get the autograph and a 2nd time because my camera wasn’t working on the first turn through. LOL He was very sweet and still looked darn good for 70 years old and fighting cancer.

A local EMT also bought and redid an old Dodge truck and turned it into an almost exact replica of the Squad 51 truck. I flipped when I saw it Friday night before we left the vendor area. I did a double take and saw it and realize it was THE truck. On Saturday morning, I wanted to take a photo of it and right after I took a photo, the gentleman who worked on the truck, came immediately up to me and held his hand out like he was going to take my camera away from me because I took a photo! Instead, he took my camera, but also grabbed one of the fireman’s hats off the truck and took MY picture with the truck. Pretty neat.

October, Shocktober

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October has always been a bitter-sweet month for me and my family.

The Sweet:

  • my nephew Ian was born (he’s now a handsome 19-year old!)
  • my step-nephew Adam was born
  • my sister Dori was born

The Bitter:

  • my Dad was diagnosed with cancer in October (lost him in 1994 – 6-months after diagnosis)
  • my Mom passed away in October last year (2014)
  • my brother-in-law Fred was killed in October
  • I suffered a ruptured brain aneurysm in October in 2006.

And I’m sure I’m leaving something out, but those are the biggies. I think that’s enough, don’t you?

October 25th is a bitter-sweet day for me as well. It was Dori’s birthday, but it was also the day I was released from the hospital after a three week stay nine years ago next week. I remember speaking to Dori on the phone after I got home and she told me my coming home was the best birthday present I could have given her. We were both crying.

How awful that six year’s later, I was crying in a London hotel room after findiing out Dori had suffered a ruptured brain aneurysm too and I never got a chance to say good-bye and let her know how much I loved, and adored her.

Brain aneurysms simply suck. They take the lives of young, old, healthy, joyful people, and devestate the lives of those they love. Granted, they don’t always kill, but they certainly can cause distruption and change the lives of all those around you forever.

October is also a stressful month for me at work. With my rupture happening in the critical last weeks of catalog production, it was left to our small crew and a poor graphic artist brought in to pick up the pieces to finish the book. They did the best they could. Three months later I returned to work part-time to find my office with calendar’s still set on October and reminders on my computer for jobs that needed to be completed…in October. A surreal experience for sure.

I am one of the lucky ones who #1, worked at a great company that allowed me the time to heal and recover and #2, I was physically able to perform my job full time after a 6-month recovery period. Soooo many are not so fortunate and the needs of survivors and their issues after a rupture are so varied, it’s difficult for employers and co-workers to truly understand the depth of recovery needed.

I suppose that’s one of the reasons I speak out about brian aneurysms and try to educate others. Although this blog as been theraputic for me personally, I have received a few comments from other survivors and those who have lost loved ones who tell me it has helped. That means more to me than any amount of money I could raise. Support is what we all need. I have survived a rupture, a coiling, a re-coiling and a stent, then a craniotomy on a 2nd un-ruptured brain aneurysm. And that first large brain aneurysm is STILL giving me issues. Look for updates on more potential “brain bling” in the New Year!

Every October I remember the day of my rupture. Every October I remember my mother’s death now. I remember my father’s diagnosis with cancer and I remember my sister’s birthday on October 25th. I still hate October, but I’m here. For whatever reason, I. AM. HERE.