Life after SAH...

That's what it is. Subarachnoid hemorrhage. Or the short version - SAH. This is what I tell people now. This is what I have to tell all doctors now. This is why I can never audition for WipeOut now. This is what will always be a new little fear that now lives in the once fearless mind of Jami McCoy. This SAH is what should have killed me. The more research I have done, the more reading I have done, the more doctors I have talked too, the more people I have talked too I realize - I'm a miracle. That's what a woman called me yesterday. This jeweler we visit at the OC Fair every year that my dad has developed a friendship with. Her eyes widened when he told her what happened to me. I smiled sheepishly saying "Ya, I'm lucky as hell". "You’re a miracle" she said. "You do realize you were put on this earth for some higher purpose?! That's why your still here!" I don’t know about that, but I certainly consider myself a very lucky and very grateful girl. I wasn’t ready to go. But wrestling with that thought. Knowing the statistics and how very very low the survival rate is and how even lower the percentage is of those who have no after affects. Here I sit - a little over 2 months later - Pretty much perfect. Back has stopped hurting. The entry point of the angiogram still a tad tender now and then but pretty much gone. No headaches. Just a little tired. And now having to learn what "ease back into" active life means. I met with my neurologist on Monday. (That's weird in of itself - I have a neurologist now). He told me again how lucky I was. That the risk is slightly higher of another bleed than it was before this one but still way way low. I'm to see him around my birthday next year for my for now yearly MRI to watch the tumor they found. I can go back to exercising as vigorously as I was before. Just no trauma (no problem) and don’t lift anything super heavy....like a refrigerator. Have a good day. That's it. I survived something very serious. I survived something most people don’t survive from. And I recovered amazingly well. I do attribute my good health and good shape to the quick (which of course didn’t seem quick to me) recovery. I am truly looking forward to starting up my active life again. There's a new yoga studio in the Orange Circle I'm going to check out to start back in. Yup. Starting out slow. I didn’t think much was different but I'm starting to realize it is. I think it will grow more with time also. This different look on life. I already never took things for granted. I already enjoyed life. I already was on the positive train, trying to change my way of thinking for the better. I was already on that path. So soon after this incident I thought - well I already thought all of those things. It's not like I needed a lesson there. But what I've noticed lately is all of that is even more so. I move a little slower. I enjoy simple things more. I enjoy life even more. But - my tolerance for some things has gotten less. My tolerance for people who chose to be miserable just to be miserable has gone way down. My tolerance for childhood gossip and drama has gone way down and I didn’t think that could go down any more than it already was! My tolerance for someone getting worked up over something so unnecessary has gone way down. Now don’t get me wrong - everyone has a right to bitch and complain about something, or vent about something and it doesn’t matter how trivial or how small it is - it's upsetting that person at that moment and they need to get it off their chest. But if you dwell on it - get over it. When I hear the same complaint over and over again - do something about it! It's strange to me to slow down. To enjoy a life more that I was already enjoying. To strive to be positive. Me. Positive. I mean - my snarky sarcasm isn’t going anywhere and no matter how hard I try I can’t seem to stop talking like a sailor but I feel a little less strung out. There are still a lot of the same problems going on: I worry about my Papa. I worry about money. I worry about our world. But I seem to handle it a bit differently. I'm really really overwhelmed with the idea that I survived. Why did I survive? Why did I scare the shit out of my parents and a lot of my dear friends that knew what it meant when they were told "brain bleed". The worried faces, the prayers, the fear that I was going to die or live but not be the same or have to be cared for the rest of my life. But nope - I'm fine. I'm having a really hard time wrapping my head around that thought. I'm also having a hard time accepting the fact that I'm not fearless anymore and probably never will be. It's heavy. BUT - onward and upward right? I still plan on filling my calendar with friends and physical activity and everything I enjoy doing. I want to rebuild some friendships with some people I have grown away from, but now we seem to be on the same path. I want to separate myself even more from people who are self-absorbed. I want to strengthen the bond with some of my already amazing friendships. I want to keep doing more random acts of kindness and paying it forward. I do find myself at a point where I really do want to meet that guy. A companion to share my life with. It seems some prospective prospects are just not panning out as I had hoped, but I'm even looking at that differently. I'm not down about it but I'm hopeful. I'm not going to put aside anything anymore. No more notes reminding myself "Oh - I want to do that at some point!". Time to just do them. I want to live my life. And I will.

The 2nd dreaded angiogram...

IS DONE!!!!!! I must say, this whole brain thing has been very odd to deal with. It happened. You read about it. Life is a little different now. I returned to work July 9th, thrilled to be back. I told the story a million times. Told everyone I'm fine except for a little pain and the upcoming angiogram. See - I think I've become a little gun shy. There is a new based fear that now lives inside me. It's not huge, it's not overwhelming, and it’s not ruining my life but its there. I'm told this is normal. Awesome. When I was told I had to have another angiogram I cried. Then I started to get anxious the closer it got. Ask anyone who has seen me or chatted with me since I returned to work and before the angiogram. I mostly answered with "A bit sore but dreading the upcoming angiogram". I don’t think I've ever been this nervous for something. I do think having a random vessel explode in my brain and almost killing me has something to do with this. So I kept trying to just accept it. "Jami - they do angiograms all the time" I tell myself. "Jami just fucking relax, you already survived one". Two days before I receive a phone call from a lovely friendly nurse named Cindy who tries her best to put me at ease and make me laugh while telling me what to do. I ask if I will see her the day of and she says she hopes so. I hope so too. The risks involved with an angiogram are: Possible stroke. Possible fatal allergic reaction to the dye. Possible blood clots. Possible bursting of where they enter you through the femoral artery. The only one I felt confident about was the dye. Since I already had one and I'm not dead, I must not be fatally allergic. Here's the other thing that was freaking me out - I've had one. I know what they do and it's weird and invasive and painful. SO - the day came and went. This was yesterday. I hadn’t slept well all week having anxiety dreams every night. I stopped eating/drinking Thursday night and went to bed early hoping to get some sort of sleep. After dreaming I was turned into a robotic hospital alien thing I woke up at 5:45am. Showered. Shaved (Must remember - a nicely clean shaven landscaping job is a must) and sat on the couch biting my fingernails until my dad arrived at 6:30am. I opened the door and he smiled a sympathetic smile asking how I was. I cried and hugged him and told him I was scared. I felt like a little girl again hoping my daddy could protect me from the scary mean angiogram monster. Mom got up and wished me luck and off we went. I had chosen a loose skirt to wear and granny panties knowing the kind of pain I would be in if I survive this thing. We check in at the South Lobby next door to ER. I glared at the ER door blaming it for me landing there a bit over a month ago. We wait a while. Chatting. Trying to talk about anything but. A hunchback looking nurse waddles out and calls my name. We are brought into a large room filled with beds. I'm having colonoscopy memories. Another nurse named Alma with a nice smile introduces herself and tells me to get undressed and into the all too familiar looking gown. She starts asking me questions and taking tests and chatting with my dad. She is perfect for my father. They share drug stories and school stories and medical stories and I only understand about 1/3 of what they are talking about. She then has a hell of a time trying to get me hooked up to an IV, so I end up looking a bit like a pin cushion but it happens. We then wait. Dad points out that the man next door sounds like Eugene Levy from A Mighty Wind. Every time he talks now I giggle. We continue chatting about everything but again and I start to get nervous. My stomach is fluttering as I'm watching 10am approach. 10am is when I'm scheduled. All of a sudden a tall woman with a surgical cap appears at the foot of my bed with Alma. "Jami? You ready?!" she stops and looks at me and cocks her head. "You look familiar" she says. "So do you!" I say. "Are you Cindy?" she is and she is also the woman who was part of the angiogram team during my 1st one. "Are you the one that told me exercise kills?" I ask. She bursts out laughing. "Now I remember you!" she says. "And don’t you worry, I still have a perfect record and don’t like paperwork!". I'm unhooked, allowed to pee and off we go. When we arrive just outside the place I'm to have it done my dad peers into the rooms with childlike curiosity. "Look at the size of that thing!" he says about some giant piece of machinery. Cindy is checking my pulse in my feet and Mike shows up. I smile. "I remember you too!" I say. "And I remember you, how are you?" he says. Then another gentleman whose name I never caught also recognizes me from angiogram #1. I already feel a smidge less nervous knowing it's almost the same team as before. Dr. Dorne shows up asking if I have any final questions. He says he'll see me in about 20 minutes. Dad is ushered out after kissing me on the forehead and I'm taken into the room and I remember everything. I'm way more alert this time around and I stare at everything. The weird lights, the many screens, that big weird square thing that moves around my head. They start the prep, Cindy spreading some bright orange stuff on my things, the plastic hoo hah strip, me signing my life away, the tarp that lays across my body, lights turned on and shining directly on that area. "What kind of music do you like?" Cindy asks. "I say most everything except country and pop". "I love her!" a man in the corner shouts! "She doesn’t like country!" "It's still three to one" Mike tosses back after positioning my head. That’s when I realize there is music playing in the room. They laugh and joke around me and I feel like I'm in the middle of a classroom with jokester students. This is a much different attitude than the somber quiet attitude from the first time around. Dr. Dorne appears and we begin. Cindy gave me something through the IV and asks if I feel anything. I tell her no and start to worry. Dorne warns me of the bee sting. It hurts much more this time than before. I flinch. I hear Cindy say whatever she gave me hasn’t touched me so he says to give me something I don’t understand and then I feel the fuzzy feeling. All of a sudden I hear LMAFO singing wiggle wiggle and someone is singing along. Then the verse goes to "Sexy and I know it" and Dorne says "Oh that's what this song is". This is the oddest moment...I'm laying there about to have a catheter thing shoot up my main vein and LMAFO is playing in the background?? I almost start laughing. The procedure begins. The music is lowered, but still playing mind you. I found that interesting and somewhat comforting. Lights are constantly turned on and off, I hear the sounds of photos, Mike is telling me again to take a slight breath and hold and I'm now having deja vu. This goes on and I smile a tad when I hear Lady Gaga come over the radio. So random. Dorne is asking how I am doing every now and again. I always answer a timid ok. I feel the warmth shooting through my face and my mouth. He warns me each time. I feel it through my uterus it seems and my leg. So odd. This goes on maybe half hour/45 minutes? When he says almost done, they are gathering near the entry wound. "This will hurt a bit" he says and HOLY SHIT DID IT! Apparently they closed my artery differently this time because I was sent home later with a little brochure describing the thing they closed me up with that I now have to carry with me and let people know it's there (MRI folks, airlines, etc). The one I had in ICU was a dissolvable one. This one is not. It sounded like they were hammering it. They warned me but damn it hurt and was weird and I didn’t cry but dammit I wanted to. I was done. They wheeled me out to where dad was there - red and a bit sweaty. "I went to the mall and back!" he stated proudly. And I was taken to the recovery ward. This was an area where there were a bunch of private rooms that we outpatient folks chilled in for a few hours after whatever we had done. I had to keep my right leg perfectly flat and not move it for 3 hours not 5. Guess these closure thingies are really different. Mike and Cindy said their goodbyes saying they hoped the next time they saw me I would be upright and smiling. I then lay there, a bit of a headache, a bit sore but ok. And hungry. The nurse orders me some lunch and dad heads out for a bit to get himself something to eat. I try to sleep but can’t and futz with dad's kindle. Dad returns and we chat and chat and chat. It was very comforting knowing he was there. Dr. Dorne comes in and says he had some time and looked over my slides. All is good. My dad sighs a huge sigh of relief and almost jumped for joy. I think dad was more nervous about the results and I was more nervous about the procedure itself. Dr. Dorne said I didn’t need to follow up an appt with him just my neurologist. We were thrilled. We chat and chat some more and a little before 2pm the nurse asks if I'd like to try to walk around. I do, almost puke but don’t and realize how sore I'm going to be. I dress, IV's are removed, papers are signed and out we go. When I get home I hurt. I hurt alot. Mom makes the comment that I was on alot of drugs last time I had this done and this time I have none. I pop a few Tylenol and crawl into bed. I have a pretty nasty headache as well but dad had said the dye can do that so I didnt worry. I hurt pretty bad the rest of the night but today I feel better. I can move around a bit better without it hurting too horribly. It's now more of an ouchy nag. I took a shower and removed the dressing. I have a pretty gnarly looking hole that is getting a lovely yellowish purple color around it but isn’t as sore as yesterday. I'm taking it very easy and I will for another week or so. But I'm done!!!!!! It's over. I meet with my neurologist next Monday the 6th but it looks like all is good. I'm hoping after I get the green light from him on that Monday I can start to slowly ease back into an active life. It will be very slow going for me for a while and I'm not sure how much I'll get back into since there will always be that new nagging fear but I'm ready. Just to think, almost 2 months ago I had something happen to me that almost killed me and here I am, almost back to normal. I'm surrounded by some pretty great fucking people. Glad to be alive!

Thank You...

I have to dedicate a blog to all those family and friends out there who really reached out to me during this time of recovery. I'm truly blessed and grateful and so damn lucky to have so many wonderful people in my life! There is no way I can begin to let you all know how much your love means to me. I'd like to start out with the Facebook love. When I 1st posted what happened the "What the Fucks, but I'm glad you’re ok" comments were exactly how I felt. The many likes are like little cyber pats on the back. The posts and comments and pictures posted on my wall made me smile and I thank you. My 1st week down I was showered with deliveries. It was like an f-ed up birthday. A beautiful bouquet came from my UA colleagues. A separate bouquet sprinkled with Gerber daises were sent from my office mate John. A bouquet of cookies shaped like bee hives and bees arrived from Linda. Jody came by with a giant arrangement from a wedding she and my mom worked on wanting to share the beauty with mom and I. I just got a hilarious package last week from Margaret containing the funniest little "Ugly Doll". His name is David and he's now attached to my purse. My dear friend Jay went above and beyond sending me a gorgeous bouquet of roses, a "Good Doctor" care package including chicken soup, tea and cookies shaped like nurses and a cuddly Vermont Bear dressed as a Doctor all arriving on different days. Our home smelled like a florist shop. It was amazing. I also received so many cards!!! Thank you to Katie, Rose, Brenda (love the kitty stickers!), Lori, Sheryl, Sharri, my granddad and my grandparents. My visitors kept me happy. Terri - thank you for my migraine oil, Jo - the flowers, Becks - the sunflowers and Henry's darling presence, Heather - the star gazers one of my favorites, Susan - for my clam bake, Robin - my flowers and lunch, Libby - Haley of course, my guardian angel and cupcake, Amber - for bringing me dinner and GOT fun, Jenn - that chocolate cake was amazing and the sunflowers so pretty, Mel - Simon was a love and the food was so good, Jill - giving me a pedicure was such a treat and felt so nice, Rick - bringing me lunch and sharing great stories, Keri - for bringing me lunch and being a rock for mom during this gnarly time, Dave and Petey - your laughter, Shan - a healthy lunch, Becky Julian and Scotty so good to see you on your way to Price is Right so bummed to miss that, Julie - for bringing me lunch, Natalie - your smile, John/Carol and Bri - seeing you guys was so great and with you that basket collected from my fellow colleagues was hilarious! My Chapman co-horts pitched in and presented me with a basket filled with such an array of games, tea, candy, cat treats, a harmonica, wine, a sleep mask and many many more random stuff that made me laugh and cry. Many texts and phone calls from family and friends constantly checking up on me meant the world. A big thank you to D for coming to the ER 1st and alerting folks. Mom of course then Terri, Robin and Libby all coming by the ICU. I know I didn’t look good but seeing your faces meant so much. I want to thank my Aunt Diane for impeccable timing and taking care of my grandparents so mom could take care of me. I know you being here helped mom out so much. My grandparents sent me a least 4 cards and were always sending sunflowers or food home with Diane to me. A huge thank you to my dad for flying home the second he heard, cutting his vacation short and helping me understand all the medical jargon that was being thrown at me. My dad checked up on me almost every day bringing me food when mom couldn’t be there, dropping in and taking care of me when I needed him sometimes at 5am. I love you daddy. And the biggest thank you of all goes to my mom. She not only took care of me, fed me, helped me to the bathroom, fed my cats and cleaned their litter box, kept my sheets clean, kept my room clean, kept all the flowers in bloom by changing water and vases and bringing different ones into my room so I could see them all, dealing with the doctors, helping me with disability and work paperwork, getting up in the middle of the night when my pain was so excruciating and forcing me to take pain meds, and so much more. She proved that a mother's love is absolutely unconditional. I would not have gotten through this without her. I am damn lucky to be here and damn lucky to be surrounded by such amazing people. Thank you everyone so much for all your love and support and prayers. You helped me get through this rough time and I still have a bit of a rough road ahead, but I will never feel like I have to conquer this alone. Thank you.

The day I cheated death...

June 6th, 2012 at around 5:30 pm I was almost taken out of this world. WTF right? That is pretty much what me and everyone else said when news spread. June 6th, 2012 I had what is called a sub arachnoid hemorrhage. What this means is a small blood vessel near the back of my brain ruptured causing blood to get into my brain and spinal column. Today is July 3rd and I'm still recovering. Here's the story (Watch out - it's a long one: Wednesday the 6th started out as any other day, woke up, felt fine, went to work, drank my breakfast smoothie, had my healthy lunch on the patio, took my walks, and since I didn’t have a boxing class scheduled that evening I thought I would hit the gym. While at the gym I did back and biceps. Nothing major, nothing strenuous. I was killing time waiting for the bicep curl machine to open up so I could head home since my friend Ber was coming over tonite and we were going to finish watching Game of Thrones. I glanced at the clock and it was 5:30. The machine finally opened up and I did my 3 sets of 12. When I stood up I had the oddest headache wash over me. It was like a whoosh across my head. Painful but not unbearable. "That's odd" I thought. "Maybe I'm dehydrated or something." I started to get annoyed when the headache didn’t subside. I drove home holding my head wondering why this headache seemed to be getting worse. WTF! I entered my home, let the dog out and paced the house holding my head. "This is so weird." I kept thinking. I lay down on the couch. The dog barked to get back in. I got up and let her back in. I was now pouring with sweat and my hands were starting to shake. I considered calling Ber and asking what her headaches are like when the shaking got worse. I shot her a text telling her I wasn’t feeling good and called my mom. I knew she probably wouldn’t answer since she was volunteering at a place she's hoping to get a job, but I am now thinking "I need to go to the ER". She didn’t answer and I lay down again. The headache worsened, the sweating and shaking got worse and I was starting to feel nauseous. I realized something was seriously wrong. This headache was too weird and came on too hard and too fast. I dialed 911 on my cell. I remember looking at those three numbers and thinking "Am I really about to call 911 on myself?" It was a surreal moment and I hit call. I found out later that this was the decision that saved my life. "911 emergency" a woman said. I started to explain what happened and she cut me off saying "Let me transfer you to emergency". "Aren’t you emergency?!" I started to say, and then a man answered. I started to tell him what happened. He calmly asked where I lived and told me help was on the way. A few minutes later I heard sirens. I remember thinking "Holy shit those are for me". The nausea got worse. "I'm going to throw up" I told the dispatcher. "It's ok" he said. “Keep me on the line”. On my way to the bathroom I unlocked my front door so the paramedics could come in and I ran to the bathroom and started throwing up. I kept apologizing to the phone on my floor between heaves. I heard the paramedics coming in. "Hello" they were shouting. I hollered I was in the bathroom then thought "They don’t know where the bathroom is". So weird what you think of in a tragedy. Some of them came in the bathroom but I couldn’t lift my head to look at them. The headache was so bad at this point. "Can you sit up" one said. I did and looked him in the eyes; he is the only one I actually saw. He looked me in the eyes with a flashlight and someone else was taking my blood pressure. They told me they were taking me to the hospital and which one did I want to go to. I said St. Josephs. "Is the dog friendly" someone asked. I told them yes and she probably didn’t even see them all that well. I also asked to please make sure the doors were closed because my cats are indoor (Tweaks was hissing at the paramedics). Priorities you know. They asked if I could walk and I said yes. I was clutching my head and a paramedic was on each arm helping me out. They asked if I needed my purse. One had grabbed the phone off the floor and I pointed at my wallet and keys as we walked out. As the gurney was being wheeled down my driveway my neighbor ran alongside. "Jami I called your mom and left a message, who else can I call?" I told her Shane. Even though he was in OK he could alert Danelle. When they loaded me into the ambulance I told them I get carsick and continued puking. He tried to give me something for the nausea but I couldn’t keep it down. They were such nice men and used the siren and tried to get me to St. Joe's asap. When we arrived most was now a blur. I was put in a wheelchair. I then sat in a fetal position in the wheelchair clutching my head and puking. I have no idea where I kept getting wheeled around too. Questions were asked, blood pressure was taken again. Then I was left somewhere. I heard a woman say "She called 911 for a headache?!" with a very nasty sarcastic tone. I wanted to jump up and smack her. From my fetal position I shouted: "I was at the gym and it came on fast and hard and it's not a normal headache. I'm not a pussy!!!!!!" I was then wheeled away. I glanced up and realized I was next to a drinking fountain. The 1st thing I thought was "Assholes stuck me in the corner for being feisty". A gal came and sat next to me with a clipboard and asked if she could call someone for me. I had noticed Danelle had tried to call (My phone was on the wheelchair with me) "Do you know how to work one of these things? I asked flicking the iPhone towards her. She said yes and I told her to call D who had called earlier. As she did someone else shouted into the waiting room "Is there a Jami with blonde hair??" My new friend said it was me and D was calling the ER looking for me. Thank GAWD I thought, someone would now come be with me. I was then wheeled and parked in the hallway with a mean nurse saying there was no room right now. I started to cry. A few minutes later I felt someone touch my arm, it was D. She sat next to me and we waited until I was finally admitted to a room. I could not stop puking and the Dr. and Nurse were arguing over what I need more - meds for my pain or meds for my puking. Mom arrived. They hooked up an IV and started giving me something. The Dr. looked in my eyes and said CAT scan. I was taken to get a CAT scan then returned to ER. Mom was crying. I heard them say I was being admitted to ICU. I knew something wasn’t right. I found out later that they had told my mom to start praying. On my way to ICU I was given another CT scan this time with dye. I remember the CAT scan guy was the same one as before. "Hello again" I said. He warned me the die would make me feel like I have to urinate but it's just the die. When that happened I made the weirdest face. "Are you ok?" he asked."Yes, but that was fucking weird!!!" he laughed. I was still entertaining. I was admitted to ICU and I don’t remember much of this night except mom stayed the night and I told her that was silly. She said she's not leaving my side. I knew that was bad. "Am I going to die?! I asked. "It's very serious" was all she said with tears in her eyes. I remember thinking. Bullshit, I'm not going to die. The next morning I found out my dad was flying home from his vacation in Illinois. This made me realize again how serious this was. Mom went home for a bit to take care of the pets and this is when the neurosurgeon on staff came to talk to me. "The CT scan has ruled out an aneurism. But in order to have no shadow of a doubt I want to do an angiogram. The risk is there is 1 and 3000 chance of having a stroke. My stomach dropped. "Luck isn’t really on my side at the moment" I said. "Do you really think I should get this?" If you were my wife or my daughter I would want them to get it". I agreed then. My nurse that day was Eva who was a love and watched me like a hawk. I was her age and I freaked her out that I was so young and healthy and there I was. I made her laugh a lot. Mom returned and D was with her. Robin came by later. I was off for my angiogram. I was scared for the 1st time. One of the gals who helped with this procedure asked what happened. When I told her she shouted "I tell ya exercise kills!" she laughed. She asked why I was scared. I told her I don’t want to have a stroke. She assured me she had a perfect record and I wasn’t going to screw that up. Plus it was Thursday and she didn’t want to do the paperwork. I loved her. The angiogram was probably one of the weirdest things I have ever had done. "I may have to shave you" one of the men said. "Shave me where!?" I asked mortified. They removed my gown and put a strip of something on my hoo-hah. "Oh, it's ok, we won’t need to shave." And keeping myself nicely landscaped just was made totally worth it. I lay there for about an hour. They go in through the femoral artery (by your groin) and up your veins into your head and shoot die and take pictures. A man named Mike was at my head the whole time telling me when to hold still and hold my breath in a very gentle voice. When they plugged up the artery (that's how he phrased it) that hurt. I was wheeled back to my room and Terri was there. I was told I had to lay flat on my back for 5 hours. Apparently when they were hooking me back up Terri said they pulled all these crazy wires and gadgets from my gown and she freaked out a bit. I remember thinking I'm not supposed to be on this side of the ICU. I visit people I don’t get visited. My back hurt a lot and Eva not one minute past 5 hours tried to get me comfortable again. Libby arrived. She handed me a guardian angel statue and said someone gave it to her so she's giving it to me and maybe I can pass it on to someone else. She then broke down crying. (Man what must I look like I thought) But I only saw her for a minute I was off now for an MRI. Luckily I'm not claustrophobic so the MRI didn’t bother me but it was very weird. I remember I kept closing my eyes and making musical beats with the machine sounds. Back to my room I went. Eva hooked me back up to my many machines and tubes. I remember throughout every night I was awaken every hour with a flashlight shown into my eyes, the nurse asking me to squeeze her hands and push my feet against her hands. The nurses always softly apologizing. I also remember the blood pressure machine that was permanently hooked up to me squeezing my arm every hour. Day 3 in ICU. Maria was my nurse. She massaged my feet and switched the blood pressure to my other arm annoyed it had been the same place as long as it was. St. Joe’s nurses are the bomb. Two women came in to do a swallow test. Had me eat a cracker and swallow. I must have passed. I had been having to use a bed pan and I begged Maria to let me use the commode behind the curtain. She was hesitant. I felt disgusting. When I had to pee I unhooked myself and started waddling to the commode thinking no one saw. Here comes Maria scolding me. My headache returned. "See, that’s what you get" she playfully scolded. A Dr. came in and said I would probably be released today. He asked if they had taken a pregnancy test. I barked at him I hadn’t had sex in a year so there’s no need. I’ve never seen a Dr. blush and get flustered so much. I was so excited to leave. Maria didn’t think I should leave quite yet. Another lady came and asked me to try to walk the hallway with her. I did, and I puked. When I returned to my room they had pretty much packed me up to go home and had to re hook me all back up because puking in the hallway means going home is a no go. The Dr. came back and found me a pain med I could take without puking and I was finally able to go home that Friday night late. Maria filled mom's bags with extra goodies and off we went. The 1st thing I wanted to do was take a bath. I knew I was in no state to shower but I felt so gross. Against mom's wishes I bathed and went to bed. The next day Dave and Pete came by, Pete teasing me that I'm not allowed to steal his thunder (He had a stroke a few years ago) and I sat on the couch visiting. Robin came by for dinner that night. I remember saying "I'll be fine in 2 weeks!" The Dr. had told me about 4-6 weeks it will take to recover. Apparently that is how long it takes for your body to reabsorb the blood. I was optimistic and thought I would be fine. What I didn’t realize was my body was still full of all the IV meds. That night it all went downhill. Mom's beloved pug fell ill. I called my sis in law to accompany her to the vet since I could not go. We said goodbye to Smokie in tears. I was left alone for awhile and I cried and cursed God and the universe and asked Why!!! Why the hell is this happening!!?? Why has this year been so rough then this happens!!! My grandparents aren’t well, my mom is unemployed and lost her unemployment funds, I’m now going to be buried in hospital bills!!!! My mom has had enough and now you take her fucking dog!!!!! This was the only time I was that angry and blaming the world. I was awoken at 5am that Sunday morning with the worst pain in my back I have ever had. My dad rushed over and had me on the floor stretching thinking I was having muscle spasms. The neurologist was called and we were informed the blood had probably pooled in the base of my spine and has caused this pain. WTF. The next few days I had to play level with my body. Ass up in the air on pillows sometimes, sometimes head higher, basically trying to balance where the blood in my spine was flowing. That week I was flooded with flowers and gifts and cards. I cried every time I received one. The love I felt from my friends and family was incredible. I couldn’t read and I couldn’t watch TV and I couldn’t text too much since focusing on anything hurt my head. I didn’t want to see to many people because I didn’t want people seeing me in this state. My cat Tweaks would not leave my side. She even followed me to the bathroom. She also growled and hissed and was ready to take out anyone who came to our front door. That following Tuesday we realized I had a blockage in my colon. Not to get too detailed here, but let's just say we tried many ways to get it out and nothing was working. The final phase sent me into the most painful situation that competed with the original brain explosion. I was screaming in pain and my dad again rushed over and the paramedics were called. Back to the ER I went. This time I was able to chat with the paramedics and they were adorable. I was blushing with embarrassment because here I was smitten and going to the ER for the most humiliating thing ever. I was in the ER for about 3 hours dealing with the most embarrassing, humiliating, mortifying situation ever (That I share with the world here). They finally sent me home with something to drink that did finally shoot the blockage out and let's just put it this way - imagine shitting out a fucking house - That's what it felt like. This of course only made my back worse and that has been pretty much what has kept me down since. I have avoided the pain meds and taking Tylenol every 4 hours. I've been through 2 bottles. My kidneys are pissed so I'm also taking cranberry pills and drinking more water than a fish. Luckily I was able to watch TV and a few days later read. Thank God for small favors. I also want to mention that sometime during week 2 I thought it would be good for me to maybe try to walk a little outside and feel the sunshine on my face. I stepped on a bee and got stung. WTF!!! My mom rushed out when she heard me crying and she laughed the darkest laughter I have ever heard. Back to bed I go. I went to primary Dr. They basically said suck it up. I had my appointment last week with my new neurologist and I was told I had to wait out the back pain, I have to have another angiogram in 3-6 weeks, and the tumor that they found (Did I mention they found a tumor in my brain? Benign and very common but none the less - there it is) is in a very precarious place and if it grows radiation will be where we start. I will now have to see the neurologist once a year so they can watch this little fucker. I asked why and how did this happen? He told me they will never know, it was totally random, could happen to anyone. I asked am I at a higher risk to have another?? Nope, small chance. I cried the whole way home. I'm terrified of another angiogram and I know the tumor is benign but it's there. Last Thursday night I took a turn for the better. I got my 1st night’s sleep. I didn’t wake up 3 or 4 times in dire pain like every other night. Since then my back is improving. I now don’t have the sharp stabbing pain but more of a dull throbbing. I can sort of sit up and I'm moving around much better. I started doing water aerobics in our hot tub to try to get my strength back. I've watched my muscles deflate and I've lost 12 pounds. I hate the weak feeling I have but I'm working on slowly getting better. I called my neurologist yesterday and he said I could cancel my MRI (He was going to do another to double check my back) since I was improving and if I think I can (which I do!) I can go back to work Monday the 9th. I plan on trying to drive my car today or tomorrow and I'm really shooting to attend Hootenanny on Saturday. I'm taking it very very easy, not lifting anything, not bending down too much and watching the way I feel but I'm on the mend. FINALLY. I also have to mention I would not have gotten through this without my mother. That woman waited on me hand and foot and went above and beyond anyone needed to do taking care of me and trying to keep my spirits up and loving me. So - finally in conclusion - what have I learned? I don’t know. People have said - "Well now you don’t take things for granted!" I never have. When I hop out of bed I think "I'm lucky I can do that". When I shave my legs I think "I'm lucky I can do that". I've watched my Papa's body deteriorate and watched my parents slow down and have always always appreciated how agile I am.People have said "Now you appreciate life more!" Well - I've always appreciated life. My motto is never take life too seriously. I’ve also been on the positive train this year trying to improve all aspects of my life for the good."Regrets?" they say. Not really. If I hadn’t of made it, I have crammed a lot in my 36 years. I still have waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay more I want to do but I'm happy to report I wouldn’t look back and think I wasted my life. I suppose I have learned a few things…I have learned my cats love me more than I even thought. I have learned the ridiculous amount of support and love that came from friends and family helped me get through this more than they will ever know. I have learned I'm still impatient as hell. I have learned I'm stronger than I thought. I also believe that the healthy state I was in before D day has helped my recovery be quicker than someone else and probably helped save my life. I've also learned I'm a total sap. I cry more. I've also learned I do have faith. More than I originally realized. I miss my life. I cannot wait to have it back.I'm so grateful I survived. I'm so grateful I will not have any permanent damage. Once I get through this 2nd angiogram I will hopefully close the book on this part of my life and try to work on getting rid of that new nagging fear that haunts me.I've said this before but I'll say it again - this time I feel I have experience and power behind it - Live life to the fullest. You never know when you are going to be snatched from this world.Thank you all for your love and support! I would not have gotten through this without all of my family and friends.

Rough times...

I have to say, 2012 has been a lot rougher than I was hoping. We are almost in June now, the halfway point and this year, my year, the year of the dragon has been a bit brutal. I was told today that my Papa is going to be put on hospice care. We knew it was coming. But the doctor actually saying it was like a punch to the gut. My mom is a wreck. I'm so sad. I have watched him deteriorate as this year has moved forward. 1st his body and now his mind. He's withered. He's not happy. He's emotional. He has ups and downs. It's weird. And awful. And yes its life. And yes he's 97 and has lived a full life. But still, he's my Papa. He's my superman. I've been told watching him go downhill like this may make it easier on me when his time comes. Bullshit. It's worse. He's aware of everything and he hates it. I hate it. We are alike in many ways. We don’t like weakness, we don’t like to be helpless, and we don’t like to rely on other people for help. It's so hard. It's just so fucking hard. Moving on. I cant write about that anymore. To me. I had to have a colonoscopy on Thur/Fri. They wanted to do an upper and lower. All day Thur I was on a liquid diet then drank the stuff at 6 and again at 2:30 am Fri morning. I couldn’t keep all of it down the 2nd time. This may be TMI but I swear that this process is just fucking mean. What you have to go through before this procedure is just wrong. I would not wish it on my worst enemy. The procedure went fine; I meet with him next week for results. Today I was referred to get an MRI on my hip injury. They think I have a laberal tear. I've been going to physical therapy for a few weeks and it hasn’t helped so this is the next step. I may be going under again. My wrist is crunchy and my knee is grinding. Almost like they are teasing me gently saying "After you have hip surgery we're next!” I keep running John Wooden's quote over and over and over again in my head. "Don’t let what you can’t do stop you from doing what you can do” I haven’t. I'm still doing everything; I just alter the parts that hurt. I'm told to slow down. To do lower impact stuff. I cant. I would crumble. The only thing I think that is keeping me going right now and not screaming at the universe while pulling out my hair is activity. My boxing boot camp teacher can tell when I have a bad day. I'm still going to therapy - yes the head kind. My buddadist therapist is trying to help me be a better person. It's sort of helping I think. She's given me some nice ideas to work with. It seems I've always been going in the right direction, just needed a little guidance and pushing which is what she's doing. I'm doing things I poo poo'd before. That's right kids...I may even be learning to meditate soon. I know. I surprise myself. My life is changing. I know change is good, but the process is extremely painful right now. Literally. I'm finding I don’t have as many friends as I thought that I can count on. But at the same time those friends I can count on mean even more to me than usual and I didn’t think that was possible. It is hard though because I feel lonely a lot of the time. I'm also in the financial pit again. My mom has lost her unemployment and needs more support from me and with the cost of all this medical crap I'm dealing with (Insurance doesn’t cover everything) my goal to move out at the end of summer has been moved to the end of the year. I'm hoping end of year is actually a possibility but unless things change it's not looking good. This is the halfway point of 2012. There have been some great things though - Doheny Blues was amazing. My trip to San Francisco was fantastic. Even though I seem to be breaking apart I'm actually a lot stronger. I'm finding out new things about myself that I like and don’t like but I know that is part of this all. I didn’t mean to be too much of a downer in this blog, but I'm not going to lie. It's been rough. I'm not giving up though. I'm still moving in the direction I think I need to be moving right now. But I am starting to think I may have put a little too much stake in the year of 2012.

Doheny Blues Festival 2012...

I tried to convince my dad to go both days this year but as per usual we only made it to one. He had never seen Steve Miller live and I was dying to see Buddy Guy so Sunday was the day we chose. Dad was hell bent on getting VIP tickets this year and since he is being so generous to pay for them who am I to argue. Shane and D were the only ones who joined us this year and spent their 6 year anniversary listening to phenomenal music with us. We headed out early as we always do, about 7am, so we can park in the close lot and get a good place in line. We were off to a rough start since dad was in a grumpy mood and I seemed to be the only one out of the four of us bouncing off the walls with excitement. When we arrived we were directed to park in the far lot which is what we have been able to avoid every year except our 1st. This lot is waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay back there FYI. They have shuttles, but of course barfy mcbarfs alot cannot ride in a shuttle so it's a bitch of a walk lugging all your shit on top of it. We were a little beat by the time we finished walking. Dad was not pleased. He was continuing to bitch that VIP is supposed to include parking. We grab our spot in the VIP line - still seems to be the same exact distance we always get no matter what time we get there. Dad is now on a mission to talk to someone about parking. I noticed it was set up differently this year, so something was going on with the parking. I looked up on my handy dandy phone and pointed out to dad that parking was in fact NOT included. He was also informed that it was only permit parking. (I'm making a note in my head to find out how to get my hands on a permit for next year). Dad and I decide to wait in the now forming line to exchange our tix for wristbands since it's supposed to open in 20 min. It opened in 50. Dad was fit to be tied. When we sat back down and Shane/D headed off for their exchange I snapped at dad to chill out and smoke which he did and all seemed right with the world. We relaxed for a while as we always do waiting for the gates to open. When we finally shuffle in we dash to the VIP area to grab our spot. It's already full. Holy Shit! We do find a nice open area near the back and promptly spread our blankets and chairs and stake our spot. Sunblock on, drinks in hand, settled in we are ready. 1st up was a kid. That's right. A kid. I read about him in the program and his name is Ray Goren. He started out playing guitar at age 8. He discovered blues when he accidently typed something into YouTube that pulled up BB King. He was mesmerized and begged his folks for a guitar. I swear to GAWD this kid was amazing. He has his own band and he actually played the blues!!!! How this little 12 year old has been on this earth long enough to know - he did. Kind was phenomenal. Up 1st on the 2nd stage was Trick Bag from Sweden. Dad and I wandered over and caught about a fourth of their set. Very cool. Great harmonica player. Food. Wine. Stocked up on our kettle corn. Dad and I also took this time to wander around and check out the festival. There was a cute little kids section with the giant hamster balls in the water. There was a great canvas area where you could paint on it and they just kept replacing it when it filled up. The usual fun vendors and a neat blues walk that had big photos of a bunch of the artists that had played in the festivals past. Up now on the mainstage was Joe Louis Walker. I caught the 1st part of his set, he was great but I wanted to see Otis Taylor who was playing at the same time on the Backporch Stage. Shane joined me this time and we couldn’t get up too close since it was packed but we parked off to the side and watched a good portion of his set. He was a little under the weather but still pulled it out as he always does. More food. More wine. Rod Piazza had begun on the 2nd stage but we stayed in our spots and listened. Very Brian Setzer like. The of course who I had been waiting for - BUDDY GUY!!! He tore it up!!!!! He plays very similar to BB King, pausing alot to tell a story or make a comment. He has a smile that is so adorable. His gruff voice and ridiculous blues style made my heart sing. He was absolutely stellar!!! I have wanted to see him live forever and finally here he was. He's 75 years old and truly gives BB King a run for his money. You can feel it when he plays. You join him in his stories and his playing when he's up there. Amazing. Just amazing. Trombone Shorty started on the 2nd stage and I had read up on them a few days prior and wanted to check out their set. Dad and I headed over. As soon as we stopped we knew we were in for a treat. There were a couple of saxophone players and the main guy was tearing it up on the trombone. Very funky. Reminded me a bit of TOP. Then this dude whipped out a trumpet and played what I didn’t think was humanly possible!!! That damn thing didn’t leave his lips for an entire song. I have never in my life seen someone play the trumpet like this guy. Fucking incredible!!!!!! Dad couldn’t get over them. He kept saying "I'm so glad you wanted to see them!" We bobbed and grooved to their entire set. Then Taylor Hicks (Apparently and American Idol dude) came out and shredded on the harmonica! We always seem to stumble across a band we were not familiar with prior to this festival that blows us away. Today it was Trombone Shorty. We headed back to our seats and settled in for Steve Miller. He opened up with Jet Airliner and Dad turned into and excited little kid. I think the highlight for me was seeing dad get so excited. I have seen Steve Miller perform about 4 or 5 times and he's always stellar but dad had never seen him. He did some preaching encouraging people to help get a Blues Hall of Fame going and support the Blues Foundation and continued to play an absolutely fantastic set. Some new songs and full of old favorites. He was spot on. Doug Hamblin came out and played his magic on the guitar alongside of Steve and they were amazing. The crowd was singing along and one funny side note - there were about 5 sheriffs standing off to the side of us ready for riots or something and the guy on the end kept singing along to every song. We also caught him dancing a bit. Shane and I were dying. Steve came back out for an encore ending of course with Joker which dad and I danced our asses off too. We packed up our crap and headed out and took the long hike back to our car but got out with no problems. The VIP included us the closer seating area, $1 off drinks and nicer bathrooms. But what made it worth the price was we didnt get swarmed with people because the VIP area didn’t add anyone if that makes sense. Usually at the end of the night the last set or two it gets a little harry with people trying to squeeze in and tromp over your area with little or no respect, but being in the VIP area - everyone was already there. At one point I looked back and saw everyone crammed up against the fences that blocked off our area. So that made it worth it and I have a feeling my dad my spring for VIP again next year :) Yay! All in all it was yet another brilliant day of outstanding music, spending quality time with fam, fantastic people watching and a perfect perfect day out the sun watching some of our blues greats. I really hope kids today understand how important and influential blues our to our music. There is nothing like it. One of my favorite days of the year. Now 6 years running!

Childhood friends...

What is it about childhood friends that makes you have a bond stronger than no other? I have a few friends with whom I have never lost contact. I also have a few friends with whom we only see each other once in awhile. I also have a few friends with whom I didnt see for years and years and we re-connected and it was like no time had passed. It's truly amazing when you have a connection with certain people. I wonder sometimes why it seems to be so incredible with old friends. Maybe it's because we met each other at such a young age, where differences didnt matter. Innocence was still hanging on. Life hadnt happened to us yet. I love it. I love that I have so many of these friends. My two oldest friends actually are boys. Mike and Paul. Mike and I played in the sandbox together in pre-school. Paul and I were boyfriend/girlfriend when we were 3 years old. Then there's Libby. My best friend in the whole world. We were neighborhood kids who became friends due to her one eye'd cat. We have been best friends ever since. Yes, you get older and have lots of best friends but Libby will always be THE best friend. She hasnt changed. Our friendship is stronger than ever. Then I have Robin. We met because she got held back in 4th grade and we clicked. I love this girl. She gave birth to my godson who is now a teenager. I've always protected her. I always will. Susan I met in girl scouts about 3rd grade. We used to collect lady bugs out in the field in elementary school and make bracelets out of flowers. I remember when we both got sent to the principals office because she brought her pet mouse to school one day. Her mom and my mom now take yoga together. This girl is one of the strongest women I know. And speaking of strong women, there's Cori. We met in High School and got in a world of trouble together. This girl and I have been to Hell and back together. I would do anything for her. Then there are the friends I have re-connected with after many years. Ceasar. A popular boy in High School. We were friends but not super close. Now we hang once in awhile and laugh and I try to get him to keep up with me in my boxing bootcamp. And of course Kasi. Our personalities are so similar. We were tennis partners in High School and were fucking amazing at it. I remember getting suspended from a couple of games because I hurled my tennis racket at an opposing team because they kept hurling balls unfairly at Kasi. She's a spitfire and I'm thrilled we've re-connected. Then of course now adays there's facebook where I've gotten back in touch with a crap load of childhood friends and we see what each other is doing and comment on each others accomplishments. It really is interesting. But there is something about those friends that have stayed friends. Those friends whom I trust with my life and those friends with whom years can pass and it doesnt matter that bond is still there. I truly feel honored to have so many friends from my childhood still in my life. We've been through alot together. I love each and every one of you.