Well, I had big dreams to keep writing on this blog to share my story. I wanted to share the IMPORTANT information (and still do.) I have plans to continue what I started a year ago this September leading up to the Brain Bolt 5k, since that plan apparently worked pretty well last time.
So in the coming month you can read about the who's who of famous survivors (that I know of!) You can expect a long post that I have to completely start over on (because my aneurysm addled brain just deleted my first draft! Grrr....) I'll be catching you up on everything that's been happening and that is going to happen in the coming months with me.
But for now, I wanted to type a quick note about a thought I had. Like I've said before, I had no idea what was happening to me when it happened. The closest I knew about an aneurysm was the slang expression "don't have an aneurysm" when someone was going off about something or other.
This expression really bothers me now, with the knowledge I've gotten. Having an aneurysm is something that you can do little to prevent, unlike some diseases. There are changes in diet, exercise and medication that can alleviate worst case scenarios with a lot of other diseases, but an aneurysm is a surprise. You can scan for it, if you and your doctor persistently opt scanning, but even if you find one, there's nothing to do to reverse course without brain surgery. Even if you go through with surgery, it's always there. My aneurysm is not active, which is excellent. But unlike a tumor, it can't be removed, so I continue to have blind spots in my left eye.
Yes, I'm always going to have an aneurysm. And sometimes it may be the reason I fly off the handle, because the brain is delicate. Personalities change when you mess with it, and that's okay.
Thursday, September 1, 2016
Thursday, November 19, 2015
My Story: The What-Ifs
My story is littered with the hypothetical scenarios of what could have happened. And most of those are apparent in my posts, The Beginning, The Longest Week of My Life: Part One, and The Longest Week of My Life: Part Two. But there are a couple things I left out that are really very important.
Most of my what-ifs stem from my time in college. In college, I got engaged. I was over the moon about getting to marry the man of my dreams, but we decided to wait until after we had both graduated. I graduated first, December 2002, then he would graduate in May of 2003. We'd set the date for our simple ceremony for May 24, 2003, just after graduation and a couple months before he would start his master's degree.
Before I graduated from college, I had an amazing opportunity. I was offered a student seasonal position working at Walt Disney World. I am a big herald for Disney magic. It's a place, unlike any other, where dreams come true and magic happens. I had an offer, not only to be part of the magic and help make dreams come true, but see behind the scenes. I'd be able to meet other people like me who had Disney fever. I imagine what a boost listing Walt Disney would have on my resume. But all I can do is imagine and dream about it. I turned down the offer because it would happen during the semester when I should plan a wedding. I kick myself for it frequently.
So I was at home planning the wedding, not in Orlando making kids smile. Things were on track for a beautiful wedding, until one visit to see my darling fiance during our semester apart, things disintegrated. Without getting into the details, which have no impact on this hypothetical line, I left the mountains without my ring for the first time in years.
You may be asking yourself what the relevance of these two things are. Well, had I gotten married in May as planned, I would have been working any job I could get my hands on, whether it came with health insurance or not. In my story, I found a job with good pay, great hours, and health insurance. Without health insurance I would have never gone to the ophthalmologist... game over. Had I taken the job with Disney, one of two things could have happened. We could have delayed the wedding until I got back... see previous hypothetical. Or what if I'd been offered a more permanent position with Disney? I probably would have had insurance to fix anything that came up, but would I have noticed anything amiss if I hadn't been doing camera work for my sister? The rest is history.
Because I don't like leaving loose ends, we reconciled our issues that caused the break-up and the once upon a time fiance and I are now happily married, going on twelve years.
Most of my what-ifs stem from my time in college. In college, I got engaged. I was over the moon about getting to marry the man of my dreams, but we decided to wait until after we had both graduated. I graduated first, December 2002, then he would graduate in May of 2003. We'd set the date for our simple ceremony for May 24, 2003, just after graduation and a couple months before he would start his master's degree.
Before I graduated from college, I had an amazing opportunity. I was offered a student seasonal position working at Walt Disney World. I am a big herald for Disney magic. It's a place, unlike any other, where dreams come true and magic happens. I had an offer, not only to be part of the magic and help make dreams come true, but see behind the scenes. I'd be able to meet other people like me who had Disney fever. I imagine what a boost listing Walt Disney would have on my resume. But all I can do is imagine and dream about it. I turned down the offer because it would happen during the semester when I should plan a wedding. I kick myself for it frequently.
So I was at home planning the wedding, not in Orlando making kids smile. Things were on track for a beautiful wedding, until one visit to see my darling fiance during our semester apart, things disintegrated. Without getting into the details, which have no impact on this hypothetical line, I left the mountains without my ring for the first time in years.
You may be asking yourself what the relevance of these two things are. Well, had I gotten married in May as planned, I would have been working any job I could get my hands on, whether it came with health insurance or not. In my story, I found a job with good pay, great hours, and health insurance. Without health insurance I would have never gone to the ophthalmologist... game over. Had I taken the job with Disney, one of two things could have happened. We could have delayed the wedding until I got back... see previous hypothetical. Or what if I'd been offered a more permanent position with Disney? I probably would have had insurance to fix anything that came up, but would I have noticed anything amiss if I hadn't been doing camera work for my sister? The rest is history.
Because I don't like leaving loose ends, we reconciled our issues that caused the break-up and the once upon a time fiance and I are now happily married, going on twelve years.
Wednesday, October 28, 2015
Internet Shaming: Not Just for Bodies!
Our society has made sport of shaming, which is, well, a shame.
I've heard things like you're too fat, how can she be a plus-sized model when she's so thin, she's so skinny she must be on drugs, and so on. Of course that's just female boding shaming because that's what I'm keyed into as my demographic. But I've seen male body shaming, I've seen job shaming, and I've seen mommy shaming. (The mommy shaming might be the worst in my eyes since being a parent is hard enough as-is. There is no reason to add unreal expectations on top of that.)
What's worse (or is it, really?) is that these posts are articulated by all types of people, most of whom wouldn't dare utter the words they sculpt with their keyboard to the face of a real person. And, of course, the argument continues that whether you say it to somebody's face or tag them in a tweet, the recipients of these criticisms are all real, live people. I'm not saying that trolls and insensitive commenters are monsters. (I'm sure some are a special sort of jerk, but that's not the point here.) Most of the time it's a case of virtual foot-in-mouth syndrome. Who hasn't said a stupid thing to a person in their life? I know I'm not exempt. But when you can type a response and reread it before you post, there is less leniency for hurtful remarks.
With all of this shaming that would never occur outside of the electronic forum, aneurysm survivors are not exempt. Any survivors really. But in terms of brain aneurysms, people are quick to pipe in, "how can you be a survivor of anything? You look so normal!" Or, "you're not really a survivor. Yours never ruptured." Normality doesn't exempt me. Rupture doesn't define the term. No one knows what goes on in my brain except me, my doctors, and to an extent, you, dear reader.
It took me a very long time to adopt the term "survivor" for myself. When I first started considering the label, I thought it was limited to cancer patients who had beaten the odds and fought like hell to come out on the other side. Did I do something like that? I didn't believe that I could be a survivor since I hadn't toed the line between life and death. I hadn't stood at the gates shouting that I wasn't ready for afterlife. I couldn't be a survivor.
But then I considered everything that happened during the longest week. Even if I hadn't come face to face with the reaper (I can imagine I'd blow raspberries,) I was put through an arduous ordeal that did save my life, and that changed my life. I think of it like walking on a tightrope. There are those who walk the rope between skyscrapers with no net; the survivors who have experienced the worst with rupture, coma, brain damage, and everything bad that comes with it, but survived past it against the odds of a deck stacked against them. They are survivors. There are the acrobats in training, who use a net and maybe have a couple of slips along the way; the ruptures that were caught early enough not to cause severe damage. They are survivors. And then there's me, walking a line strung a couple of feet off the ground between trees in a park; unruptured medium sized annie that was found and coiled in time. I am a survivor.
I don't remember when I came to this conclusion. Maybe it was when I started celebrating my Lifeday on December 22. But I was finally able to call myself a survivor.
But haters gonna hate. There will always be people who tell me I'm not enough of a survivor. There will be people who tell me I'm too overweight to run a 5k to support aneurysm awareness. There will be people who say it was reckless to have risked my life to bring my two children into this world. But my life and everything that comes with it is my business. I've made my choices and am happy with the person I am and the decisions I've made. No one will be able to take my confidence away with a simple mouse click. But to the people who try, I say: "PPPPPTTTTHHHHHHH!"
I've heard things like you're too fat, how can she be a plus-sized model when she's so thin, she's so skinny she must be on drugs, and so on. Of course that's just female boding shaming because that's what I'm keyed into as my demographic. But I've seen male body shaming, I've seen job shaming, and I've seen mommy shaming. (The mommy shaming might be the worst in my eyes since being a parent is hard enough as-is. There is no reason to add unreal expectations on top of that.)
What's worse (or is it, really?) is that these posts are articulated by all types of people, most of whom wouldn't dare utter the words they sculpt with their keyboard to the face of a real person. And, of course, the argument continues that whether you say it to somebody's face or tag them in a tweet, the recipients of these criticisms are all real, live people. I'm not saying that trolls and insensitive commenters are monsters. (I'm sure some are a special sort of jerk, but that's not the point here.) Most of the time it's a case of virtual foot-in-mouth syndrome. Who hasn't said a stupid thing to a person in their life? I know I'm not exempt. But when you can type a response and reread it before you post, there is less leniency for hurtful remarks.
With all of this shaming that would never occur outside of the electronic forum, aneurysm survivors are not exempt. Any survivors really. But in terms of brain aneurysms, people are quick to pipe in, "how can you be a survivor of anything? You look so normal!" Or, "you're not really a survivor. Yours never ruptured." Normality doesn't exempt me. Rupture doesn't define the term. No one knows what goes on in my brain except me, my doctors, and to an extent, you, dear reader.
It took me a very long time to adopt the term "survivor" for myself. When I first started considering the label, I thought it was limited to cancer patients who had beaten the odds and fought like hell to come out on the other side. Did I do something like that? I didn't believe that I could be a survivor since I hadn't toed the line between life and death. I hadn't stood at the gates shouting that I wasn't ready for afterlife. I couldn't be a survivor.
But then I considered everything that happened during the longest week. Even if I hadn't come face to face with the reaper (I can imagine I'd blow raspberries,) I was put through an arduous ordeal that did save my life, and that changed my life. I think of it like walking on a tightrope. There are those who walk the rope between skyscrapers with no net; the survivors who have experienced the worst with rupture, coma, brain damage, and everything bad that comes with it, but survived past it against the odds of a deck stacked against them. They are survivors. There are the acrobats in training, who use a net and maybe have a couple of slips along the way; the ruptures that were caught early enough not to cause severe damage. They are survivors. And then there's me, walking a line strung a couple of feet off the ground between trees in a park; unruptured medium sized annie that was found and coiled in time. I am a survivor.
I don't remember when I came to this conclusion. Maybe it was when I started celebrating my Lifeday on December 22. But I was finally able to call myself a survivor.
But haters gonna hate. There will always be people who tell me I'm not enough of a survivor. There will be people who tell me I'm too overweight to run a 5k to support aneurysm awareness. There will be people who say it was reckless to have risked my life to bring my two children into this world. But my life and everything that comes with it is my business. I've made my choices and am happy with the person I am and the decisions I've made. No one will be able to take my confidence away with a simple mouse click. But to the people who try, I say: "PPPPPTTTTHHHHHHH!"
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