I am a little over half way to my fundraising goal for this year’s KAT-Walk & Karo-5k! Thank you to those who have donated already, I truly appreciate you taking the time and generously helping to raise money for brain aneurysm awareness.
I’ll be walking the KAT-Walk for the 18th time if anyone wants to physically join me for the walk in Portland, Maine on Sunday, September 20th. LEARN MORE
I will also be marking my upcoming 20th annie-versary of the rupture of my first aneurysm. I am blessed to still be here and so glad our small organization is able to help the brain aneurysm community in Maine.
I’ve had a “Brain Aneurysm Survivor” bumper sticker on my cars for many, many years. I find it can drum up conversations with people on occasion. The same thing with my survivor button on my purse. I forget it’s there and some random person will see it and tell me about their survival, or a family member or friend who survived, or sadly did not.
This year I had some new ones made with our URL (MaineBA.org) on it. I’m not happy with the colors on it, but it’ll do. This past weekend I went grocery shopping with said new bumper sticker on my car. As I pulled into my spot, another white car was backing in the spot immediately next to me. A little too close, so he pulled up and re-backed the car in, which I was thankful for.
As I waited to him to park and exit his vehicle, I gathered up my purse and shopping bags. After he got out, I started to open my door and noticed in my side-view mirror that he was taking a photo of the back of my car before he continued on. My first thought was “Uh, oh!” that I cut him off in traffic or something and he was recording my license plate number, then I realized he had the camera pointed down on the bumper and was taking a photo of my bumper sticker. At least that was my assumption.
My bumper sticker
Because he had a little boy with him and seemed in a hurry to get into the store, I never caught up with him again in the store because groceries is still an “adventure” for me, and by the time I got out back to my car, his car had left. So, I’ll never know.
HOWEVER, I hope it was someone local. I hope they went to our website and found the information they were looking for, for themselves or a loved one and found it useful and comforting. THAT is why I “advertise” that I am a brain aneurysm survivor on my car and my purse. You just never know who it may attract and the conversations it can fuel and help.
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.
I’m always seeing survivors, not just brain aneurysm survivors, say they’re grateful for every day they’ve been given, or they wake up each day and feel that gratitude, and live their lives differently as a result of surviving. I have mentioned this before, but I guess I’m not one of those.
That’s not to say I am NOT grateful, blessed, lucky, and fortunate to be alive when others aren’t so lucky, but I feel I have not honored that gift that I’ve been given properly. In fact, I can honestly say I have abused that gift.
Have I taken better care of myself since my last report with the neurosurgeon? Nope. I still eat crap, still don’t exercise enough, and still drink wine – somedays a LOT of it. Instead of waking up and telling myself I’m going to run a 5k, I chose not to do much of anything to promote my survival. Which is a HUGE disservice to so many people who have helped me get to this point in my life: my family, my husband, my friends, and more importantly the doctors who have saved my life on a few occasions since 2006.
Many survivors make major changes in their lives: eat better, exercise more, get new less-stressful jobs, dedicate their lives to helping others…or run a 5k or marathon. I admire them, but that is not something I have done. Yes, I am part of our local brain aneurysm group and I help when I can and where I can, but I could certainly be doing more. And should be doing more.
I recently retired and now that I don’t have the daily stresses of the job, I’m feeling more retrospective than usual. I am also feeling guilty for not honoring the gift I’ve been given. SAYING I’m going to do better and DOING it are two very different things. Yes, it’s easier to eat better on a sunny day when your mood is lifted, but on those dark and stormy days in January, one feels more inclined to seek comfort in food, drink, and laying around. Yep…that’s my M.O.
For those who DO run 5ks and marathons, good for you. You keep doing you. I will never run a 5k, nor do I ever want to. I only run if someone is chasing me. But why does running a 5k seem to be the most important thing for survivors to do? And why do 5ks seem to represent the one way survivors honor their survival? Doesn’t every survivor, who just wakes up the next day and LIVE, a 5k-type of event? Nope…they don’t get that kind of recognition. For those who have trouble moving during the day and have additional physical ailments, just getting out of bed in the morning is a huge accomplishment and should be celebrated just like getting interviewed for the local TV for finishing a 5k and for getting an article in a magazine because you ran a 5k…and of course it also helps if you’re an attractive blond and is thin and already fit not a chubby 60-year old, right?
This past week I learned that a fellow brain aneurysm survivor, Helen, passed away at the age of 71. I’m so very sad about this. She was a loving, kind, and strong woman who had endured many struggles like the loss of a young child well before she had to survive a brain aneurysm. THAT deserves praise. THAT deserves notice. She and her husband, who is blind, have had a rough time, but have maintained positivity and warmth whenever we’ve met with them. Helen had many physical limitations later in her life that effected every aspect of their lives. I will always remember her fantastic smiles, warm hugs, and terrific cooking.
Helen wanted to give back to the brain aneurysm community and she asked Dave and I if she could add beading to our brain aneurysm survivor pins. We had no idea just how beautiful these would be, nor the amount of work she’d put into them. The Native American beading was a talent of Helen’s and it gave her a “job” to do and eased her back into creating this beautiful artwork. I proudly keep her pin on my purse and it always produces positive comments and I always give Helen credit. I will treasure this small gift even more now.
The beautifully-beaded survivor pin that Helen gave me.
Knowing Helen was a gift. My being on this planet is a gift. I need to stop abusing these gifts and step up to honor them. I AM fortunate and blessed. I just need to act like it…just not with a 5k in case I haven’t mentioned that before. 🙂
Heidi's Brain Blog 