Tag: sadness

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?

Living with and surviving brain aneurysms

Too Many “Firsts”

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As the holidays descend on me, it’s another group of those dreaded “firsts”:

  • The first Thanksgiving without my mom and my other sister.
  • The first Christmas without my mom and my other sister.
  • My first birthday without my mom and my other sister.

Unfortunately, I’m no stranger to those “firsts” after losing a loved one, but it never gets any easier and it’s always a struggle to know how to behave during festive times when you’re dealing with loss. Each loss has provided me with another new chapter or phase that one must get through. Yes, I’m tired of it. Enough, God! I’m tired. Give me a break.

I’m thankful we drove to NY last year for my 50th birthday and for Christmas. As it turned out, it was the last time I saw both my sister and my mother. I’ll be thinking about that this Christmas. It will make me sad and I’ll probably not look at the photographs we took last year for some time.

My wedding photos have been difficult to look at since the death of my sister Dori in 2012, but now my other sister Rhonda and my mother will be two more “ghosts” that will haunt me when I look at the photos. I know that’s the wrong way to think of it, but they make me sad. I wonder how long it will take me to look at those photos and not be sad. It was such an incredibly fun day and we all had such a fantastic time.

I don’t have a group of friends who come and visit me and check on me and take me out for fun things to do. I don’t have close friends who make me wonderful comfort food when I’m having a hard time. As it has been since we lost Dave’s niece in 2008, it’s just Dave and I here on the stream. We rely on ourselves to be each other’s rocks and it’s a hard burden to bear for both of us. How much can we say to each other after each loss? We do the best we can and we take strength from each day we’re here to spread the word about brain aneurysms. We have to. It’s all we can do to truly honor Kim and Dori’s memory – trying to save another life.

I’m tired of planning services. I’m tired of losing the people I love and I’m tired of grieving…and yet, I have more to do yet. Granted, I haven’t spent every Christmas with my mom since I moved to Maine in 2000, but we have made it back to NY every couple of years to spend the holiday with her. I miss her voice. I miss her laugh and her wacky sense of humor. She’s irreplaceable and I knew the day would come when we’d have to say “good-bye”, but I hadn’t expected it when it happened. Grieving can suck the life out of you, but I have more life to give apparently and God keeps testing me. I wish he’d stop…I’m good! Really! Oh, and by the way, while we’re at it God, my own brain aneurysm angiogram checkup in January needs a clean bill of health, okay?

So, this Christmas I haven’t decided yet if I’ll put up our Christmas tree. I love Christmas. I love Christmas carols. I have listened to carols for a few weeks already, which was a big no-no in our household growing up! Mom refused to let us play Christmas carols on the piano until after Thanksgiving. The only exceptions was music we had to rehearse for band concerts because we usually started rehearsing those earlier in November. Rhonda played clarinet, Dori the saxophone, and I played the clarinet and piano. I supposed I love listening because they’re familiar, comforting tunes and I know all of the words. 🙂

I remember we couldn’t WAIT to get the Christmas books out after Thanksgiving. I found one of those old piano books at mom’s apartment in NY. I may pull out the electric keyboard and see if I’m still able to tickle the fake ivories in honor of my mom. We’ll see. I think I want decorations, I just want to take the time and effort to do it. LOL I need those Martha Stewart elves to come in and beautify my house for Christmas.

One extremely sentimental item I WILL be placing out somewhere, are the old manger pieces from the manger we had growing up. The physical manger is long gone, but the ceramic pieces that went in it have been securely wrapped in newspaper every year since I was born I think. They were even in the original box in my mom’s apartment, which blew me away. Putting out the baby Jesus was something mom always made a big production of. We HAD to put him in the manger last and could not unwrap him from the newspaper until everyone else was in their proper positions.

So, perhaps this year, in honor of mom and Rhonda, I’ll put up the manger, I’ll pause to position the baby Jesus just so in the middle of the manger, and try to be happy and smile. And I should also take a note from the Moms Eulogy FINAL (<–PDF) and read at my mother’s service and “Have Fun!”. I’ll try…I’m trying.

2014 – Be Gone!

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This year was already one I was looking forward to being over. Just three days into the year, I lost my other sister Rhonda and because I was scheduled for brain surgery just a week later, I never made it back home. There wasn’t an immediate service and my niece and mother insisted I go ahead with the surgery as planned.. So I did.

Little did I know on Christmas 2013 when I spent my 50th birthday back in my home town, that it would be the last time I’d see my sister Rhonda AND my mother.

As I was just hoping to make it through the catalog process in one piece and with intact brain function, my mother suddenly passed away. She had been ill for a few weeks and had been in the hospital twice, then seemed to be doing okay at a rehab facility. So, it was shocking on a Saturday morning when she passed. Her blood pressured dropped, she became very ill and in the blink of an eye my beautiful, vibrant mother was gone. She was 87.

Because her death occurred a week prior to catalog files having to go to the printer, Dave and i were able to leave Maine immediately and drove to NY for only a few days to make arrangements and scope out the situation at her apartment. Then, as plans for a memorial service were being finalized, I had to come back to Maine to get the files out. I suppose being so busy when I came back helped me kind of block it all out, but not really. We still had to go back for the memorial service and get her apartment cleaned out.

In the span of less than two years I have lost both of my sisters (one to a massive ruptured brain aneurysm) and now my mother. I’m now parentless and an only child. As my mother and I discussed many times since both of my sister’s deaths, it was becoming increasingly difficult to recall events and people with any certainty without corroboration from either one of my sisters. Mom and I relied on each other for that.

Planning my mother’s memorial service was difficult from a distance, but I think, no, I KNOW, we did her justice and I know she would have been smiling. We had a little bit of fun at the service and that’s what mom was all about: laughter and fun. I doubt my home town has ever seen the likes of my mom’s memorial service. The dixieland band was a smash hit and a special request directly from my mother.

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Sister Rhonda, niece Jenny, and my Mom last Christmas 2013.

It was wonderful to see old friends and the many relatives that came out for the service. It’s just a shame it was under such circumstances. And through all of this, all I could think of was how I shouldn’t be doing this without both of my sisters by my side. That thought added to my grief and only made me miss them more.

My home town in New York has changed so much since I left there in 2000 and not for the better. Granted, it wasn’t a bustling, thriving town, but I look at it now, and it only brings sadness for what was. The house I grew up in was sold around 2004 and my mom began the last chapter of her life in a wonderful apartment complex. The old house has changed dramatically. Some of the changes are good, some….not so much. There are so many homes I used to admire growing up that have fallen into disrepair and almost unrecognizable as livable homes…and yet, they are! Even the street I grew up has changed. It used to be a lovely tree-lined street on a long hill. The trees became diseased and they all had to be cut down. It doesn’t look like the same street.

I know time changes everything and not always for the better. Driving around my home town made me sad in many ways. My father passed away in 1994 from cancer. I discovered some wonderful items of his I had never seen or read while cleaning out my mom’s apartment. They are now my treasures.

So, as I boxed up memories from my mom’s apartment, and brought them home to Maine with me, I am not looking forward to the holidays. They were going to be difficult anway due to the loss of my sister Rhonda, but now they’ll be doubly strange, sad, empty and tragic. I have to, yet again, get used to holidays without not one, but two relatives and your mom is a big hole that no one can fill.

I know I’ll get through it. Not much choice. It is what it is and our holidays haven’t been the same since Dave’s niece Kim died in 2008, again, just a few days after another holiday. Gone, are the fun family holidays where we played games, shared laughs and good food. We’ve done okay, its just far more low key than most people’s holidays.

Do I miss spending a Christmas with family and friends, of course I do. Does it mean I still can’t enjoy the holidays and enjoy christmas carols and holiday movies? No. I love all of that and I try to remember and honor those I have lost in some fashion. Whether it’s by lighting a special candle in the window, hanging that specific, meaningly ornament on the tree, or simply taking time to recall what that person meant to me I need to allow myself to FEEL their loss, but also celebrate their life. Easier said than done on some days, but my life won’t ever be the same without my mom….but liffe DOES go on and that’s something I know she’d be preaching to me.

My niece Jenny and I will move on and we’ll be okay. We’ve both lost out mother’s this year. We were blessed to have them in our lives and are both better people as a result and we should be thankful for that. So many people don’t have loving mothers, sisters or grandmothers.

I’m tired, sad, and a little lonely, but my husband, as usual, has been my rock and my salvation. Yes, I’m ready for 2014 to SO be over, but I look forward to the year ahead and creating new memories with Dave. We’re only given one life (or perhaps multiple ones, as my mother believed) and we should enjoy it and LIVE! So, bring on 2015, please.