Milestones & Passings

Although today is the 18th Annie-versary of my ruptured brain aneurysm, celebrations of life are happening all around me.

Our small family was again reminded of the fragility of life and the overwhelming sadness and shock of a sudden death.

Three weeks ago my sister-in-law Nancy passed away suddenly after a short stay at a memory care facility at the age of 79. She ate breakfast, slumped over at the table and was gone within minutes. It was either a massive stroke that deprived oxygen to her brain, a massive ruptured brain aneurysm that flooded her brain with blood, or a heart issue. We don’t know. And at this point, it doesn’t really matter. Our family of three is now a family of two.

An early Thanksgiving dinner out in Freeport with Nancy

Then, during that same week, my niece’s father-in-law passed away due to complications from a fall. He had been battling several illnesses, but the suddenness of his injuries and the difficult decision his family had to make was all too real for our family…again. I was sadly reminded of the death of my sister Dori to a ruptured brain aneurysm in 2012. She was kept alive for a short time, but we knew her survival was not to be.

What should have been a care-free September this year for me to enjoy my first true autumn in Maine after 22 years of stressful workloads this time of year, suddenly turned into sorting through photos for a memorial, packing up clothing and items to either sell, keep, or throw out, and the sad task of making funeral and cemetery tasks.

September was still a busy month with our annual KAT-Walk & Karo-5k and Dave and I were planning on including remarks to honor and remember the co-founder of our organization, Artie, who passed away earlier in the year. Those plans were almost finalized when we lost Nancy just 7 days before the event. The KAT-Walk was named for her daughter Kim, who passed away from a rupture brain aneurysm.

Now we had to remember and recognize Nancy as well. It was a bittersweet day and we appreciated the kind remarks and memories people shared with us during the day. Nancy’s battle with dementia had started to take a stronger hold earlier in the year but she was looking forward to attending this year’s event. I think Dave and I were still a bit numb as we made all the announcements and tried to bring cheer and hope to the hundreds in attendance.

Kim, Nancy, and a bearded Dave

I struggle with how I should live my life now that I am retired. I’m eating more and moving less than when I worked, which makes no sense. I always complained I never had the time or energy to exercise when I worked 50 hours a week. Well, what’s my excuse now? I have all the time in the world, but none of the desire. It’s also terribly unhealthy. I’m not a great cook and my desire to be one is even less. So we’re not eating well either. Again…not terribly healthy.

So am I basically slowly killing us? With my track record of brain aneurysms and vascular health, I SHOULD be eating healthy, not drinking, and exercising regularly. I KNOW I should be. And with Dave being 10 years older than me, I should be even more motivated to cook better for BOTH of us and to exercise for when he slows down so I can step up and assist more.

Or do we just continue to eat crap and sit around and slowly fade away and wait to get some disease or illness that forces us to make medical decisions? Certainly the events of this past year make me look at all of that and our time left here on earth. I see other, older people living life to the fullest with activities and friends surrounding them. They don’t look their ages and don’t act it. I SHOULD be celebrating my survival of two brain aneurysms and I don’t know why I’m just not feeling it this year. Could be all the death and dementia stuff, right?

Life truly is short and as one gets older, posting pretty tea photos on social media for a few people to admire just isn’t as motivating for me anymore. Who really cares? I have a few followers and a few friends and family members who look, but beyond that, I’m not reaching the “outside” world in any fashion. And again…who cares in the grand scheme of things? When I’m gone and someone goes through the photos of the 2nd half of my life, it’s not filled with fantastic trips with friends to exciting places…it’s filled with photos of my tea-for-one out on the deck and cat photos. LOL Is that a life well-lived? I’m still figuring all that out. I better get my ass in gear and do it though before my ass is too big to do anything.

Me and my ass at the KAT-Walk. What’s with the socks?

Another quiet milestone happened back in January this year for the 10th clip-aversary of my 2nd brain aneurysm. It was clipped in 2014, just a couple of weeks after the sudden (there’s that word again) death of my oldest sister Rhonda. I’m proud I made the decision to have the craniotomy and relieved and happy I did it even though it was a difficult time. But what have I done with my life lately that makes me a better person? And why should it matter? Is there some rule that says if you survive something you HAVE to run a 5k to matter?

Dave and I are still going to get out this weekend and enjoy some leaf peeping in this beautiful state, but we’re doing it all with a sad undertone. I’m hoping the fresh air, nature, and beautiful fall colors bring us a sense of peace and comfort. We both need it.

Happy Annie-versary to me.

See You in Three Years

I first met Dr. Ecker on December 3rd, 2010. In all that time and the different medical procedures we have been through, I don’t believe I have ever hugged him. Yesterday I broke that patient/doctor barrier and gave him a very warm, tight embrace.

Twelve years ago, he picked up my aneurysm story where Dr. Kwan left off four years prior. Aneurysm #1 ruptured in 2006 and is the problem child. Even after 16 initial coils, blood was getting back into the aneurysm. Dr. Ecker has been trying to improve the situation and produce favorable results with several attempts. Two stents and 4 more coils later, we might be at a turning point in our professional relationship with this pesky bugger.

As noted in my previous post, I was thrilled and emotional to hear how well the flow-diverting stent deployed back in April was doing. I certainly was relieved, but until I saw the images and spoke to him in his office after he had a chance to review everything again, I still wasn’t celebrating to the point of calling it “done”.

Seeing the images yesterday was remarkable! The areas where blood was previously getting into the neck of the aneurysm had almost disappeared and the artery where the flow-diverting stent was placed inside the older stent had conformed to the shape of the artery. This is EXACTLY what the hope was. Success!

Because this particular procedure, placing a stent inside another stent, is not a common practice, Dr. Ecker felt a follow-up MRA in three years would be best and I agree. Although we’re all thrilled to see how it’s taking shape after 7 months, giving it sufficient time for healing was recommended. THEN if it continues to look good, we’ll look at it every five years.

Below are a few photos I took of my images on the doctor’s computer screen. They aren’t the best, but I tried to indicate where things are for my readers. The two images placed side-by-side were backwards on his screen showing the AFTER image first, then the BEFORE image after it, so I had to cut them apart, flip them and I tried to keep them around the same size for scale. Hopefully, you’ll get the idea. And yes, I DO know I should have added another “m” for the size of my aneurysm. Don’t @ me. It took me a long time to get these images right and I’m too tired and busy to change them. 🙂

Raw image comparing the aneurysm and artery prior to flow diverter deployment and after
Indicating the location and size (approx. 1/2” in diameter) of the aneurysm, which is currently filled with 20 coils (not visible).
LEFT: Showing the area of blood that has been developing over a period of years into an aneurysm already susceptible to rupture. RIGHT: Now showing a reduction in size of the bloody area and a clearly defined artery.
RIGHT: Showing the relative location of the flow diverter placed within the older stent in the artery.

And the Stories Continue

Five years ago I wrote, what I contend, is one of my more poignant blog posts about all of THE STORIES I have heard about brain aneurysms. Stories from many different people from all walks of life and at very random times. We heard a new one last week.

As my husband and I were in the pre-op area at the hospital waiting for his colonoscopy to begin, the anesthesiologist came in to speak to Dave prior to the procedure, which is normal. As Ron was talking he noticed the brain aneurysm survivor pin that was on my purse and Dave’s KAT-WALK bracelet and asked who was the survivor.

We proceeded to share my story, which was top of mind for both of us because it was 16 years to that day, that I had suffered my ruptured brain aneurysm. Then sadly, Ron told us HIS story about losing his wife to a ruptured brain aneurysm 12 years ago.

Suddenly Dave and I were no longer patients Ron needed to tend to during his daily routine prior to the procedure, but human beings who had both suffered losses due to this horrible disease. Ron leaned over and rested his elbows on the metal railing of the hospital bed and proceeded to tell us the sad story of his wife, his children’s reactions, the day it happened, the treatments involved at the time, and the tragic outcome.

Obviously, for Dave and I, we could relate to Ron’s pain and the suddenness of losing someone to a rupture brain aneurysm. Ron even mentioned meeting someone else who survived and how that person had survivor’s guilt. I too, have suffered from that.

Dave wears his KAT-Walk hat and bracelet almost daily and I always have my survivor pin on my purse. These pieces of “swag” can result in moving stories of sadness and triumph from complete strangers. Stories we never would have known had they not seen the small trinkets and asked about them.

Five years ago I wrote that blog post because of the anniversary of my sister’s death. This year was the 10th anniversary of her death. 16 years ago last week, I celebrated my annie-versary of my rupture. That is MY story, but there are so many others out there and we continue to realize the importance of sharing them.

Ron congratulated me for surviving multiple times and said I “looked great’, which was very sweet considering he had never met me before and had just shared, what I am sure, was not an easy story to tell. We shared our sympathies with him and thanked him for taking the time to tell us about his wife.

All of these stories are meaningful. All of these stories effect us. And all of these stories get added to the long list of people we have met over the years who have been effected by brain aneurysms.

Days of Rest

Eight days after my brain stent placement, I’m doing very well. I went back to work on Tuesday and worked four full days. I did take two 15-minute breaks a day to step away from my computer to sit and close my eyes. It did help.

Thankfully, I didn’t come back to an excess of projects that needed my immediate attention. There was just enough to test my eyes. And it was my eyes that felt it the most. After a couple days of headaches, those eased, but fatigue and eye strain weighed heavily on Friday. Based off previous non-emergency brain procedures, none of this is unexpected.

I went to bed early every night, listening to my brain and body. Sleep was welcome and thankfully my kitties let me sleep in this Saturday morning.

During the week I received two special “Get Well” boxes in the mail from family & friends back in NY. I appreciate that they took the time and spent the money to do something to help in my recovery. Tea, tasty bites, and heart-felt messages remind me I’m not forgotten and I welcome the support.

I won’t know for SURE if the stent is secure and stable for another six months when I’ll have ANOTHER angiogram. In the meantime, I’ll continue to live each day, try to take care of myself, and be careful to avoid any injuries.

As we celebrate Easter tomorrow, I too, celebrate another battle with this brain aneurysm with hope, renewal, and new life with more brain bling.