My 15th "Aneurversary"

 In my wallet, I carry two cards.  One shows where I have a heart stent and what brand it is.  The other explains that I have a clip in my brain where a ruptured aneurysm once was.  I produce them to radiography technicians when I get scans, etc., so they know I'm safe to have the scans.

I have the heart stent because I had a heart attack on August 1, 2009.  I didn't have common symptoms.  I just knew something was wrong because I couldn't raise my arms.  The "attack" was fairly minor, and, after a short hospital stay to have a stent installed, my ticker went back to normal "sinus rhythm" and hasn't been problematic since.  

I have a clip in my brain because I had a ruptured brain aneurysm on July 21, 2007.  Called a sub-arachnoid hemorrhage, it came on quite suddenly.  So suddenly that I didn't know what hit me.  I was visiting with my sister and family near Springfield, Illinois.  We had been to a dirt track race of some kind to watch my nephew drive in it.  Got home about 11:00 PM.  I poured myself a glass of wine and headed to their basement where their computer was to check my email.  Just at the bottom of the stairs, I flushed hot.  Turned on their fan...but suddenly felt enormous pressure in my head.  Felt like it was being blown up from inside.  At the same time, I became nauseated.  Knew I was going to throw up.  Made it up the stairs to the bathroom.  My sister could hear me being sick so came to inquire if I was okay.  I wasn't!  I thought I had picked up some magical stomach bug that had the ability to make one vomit with very little warning or other symptoms.  And my head/neck hurt.  A lot.  Sister Shari provided me with two ice bags, one for my head and one for my neck, but I continued to vomit painfully every few minutes, all night.  

I have written about all of this before, so I'll just run a timeline now:

July 21, 2007, Saturday:  My brain exploded late in the evening.  I spent the night sick as a dog.

July 22, Sunday:  I had a break in the vomiting long enough to allow my sister to take me to an Immediate Care place in Springfield.  (She had been asking since early in the morning, but I didn't feel well enough to do even that before mid-afternoon.)  The doctor asked me if I had a history of headaches or neck pain.  I said no...so he sent us to Memorial Hospital in Springfield for a CT scan of my head.  Once there, the scan happened quickly.  An Indian woman came to me to announce, "We hav bahd nuuz.  You hav a bleeeeed."  Thereafter, another doctor came in to the room to announce that they were transferring me to St. Francis Hospital in Peoria, IL, via helicopter.  I asked if my sister couldn't just drive me there.  He said, "Not unless she has one of these on her car"...as he twirled his finger over his head like a propeller.  Ack!  There I was, 200 miles from home, with my daughter (who lived with me) unaware of what was going on, and they are taking me away from everything to uncharted territory??  Seconds later, I could hear the helicopter overhead.  For me!

The 'copter EMTs showed up promptly, moved me to a gurney, strapped me in, and off we went.  I felt like a passenger on my own life's journey.  Certainly, I wasn't the pilot!  The pilot in charge of my life was sitting at the controls of the helicopter.  The other EMT was my companion, wearing headphones because of the noise and reassuring me all the way.  I was flat on my back, clutching a little kidney-shaped container since the nausea never left me, even though I wasn't actively emptying my already-empty stomach.  It was dark by now.  The only thing I was acutely aware of was a blood pressure monitor overhead in my view.  I remember seeing 180 as the top number and being incredulous.  It lowered during the flight, and the attending EMT advised me, "You did that all by yourself!"  Well, yeah...yay me! 

July 24, Monday:  Having been plopped and monitored in the ICU at St. Francis, I was put through all kinds of tests this day.  It's all blurry to me now, but it was determined that the aneurysm couldn't be stopped with the installation of a coil.  I needed brain surgery--craniotomy--to put a clip on the aneurysm so it would no longer bleed.  The surgeon said something about how a paper-thin clot was saving me.  I had the surgery late that evening.  I, of course, was oblivious.  Meanwhile, my poor family was playing tag to have someone with me.  My poor daughter was at home in Indiana, trying to find someone to take care of my two grandchildren and getting permission to be absent from work at IUPUI so she could be with me.  My sister was with me whenever she could be.  And, bless her heart, so was my daughter.  

July 25-27, Tuesday thru Thursday:  I was finally moved out of ICU into a private room, but it took some time to find a room.  The hospital provided a roll-away bed so that my sister or my daughter could stay with me, since both were at long distance.  I looked like hell, with staples in my head and two black eyes, but I was alive!   My dear friend, Major Patrick McPherson of The Salvation Army out of the Chicago Metro area showed up, unexpectedly, to visit.  (Because of his pastor status, he got in with no problems.)  I was tested and found to have no mental or physical deficits.  I had all kinds of support from my radio friends and my school friends.  God is good!

July 28, Friday, Fifteen years ago today:  I was released from the hospital to go home.  I'd been referred to a neurologist in Indy for my follow-up care.  He didn't want me to return to teaching until after Labor Day, so I was on a 2-week hiatus from the beginning of the school year!    

My poor daughter had been to hell and back to get me home.  My car was still at my sister's in Springfield.  I don't remember how, but she snagged a friend to drive one car while she drove me in the other.  Once home, I was supposedly not to be left alone due to the potential of vasospasm...for three weeks.  She did her best to find babysitters for me.  

So today, I celebrate my existence!  By every design, I should be dead, but I'm not.  I was granted at least 15 more years.  I am not only grateful for that but for the dedication of my sister and my daughter who moved mountains just to take care of me.  Thankful for my friends and colleagues who not only provided food to the household but also contributed to funds to help defray my challenges.  Thankful for those who babysat me in the weeks after my return home until I decided I no longer needed it.  

Fifteen years of grace, in spite of the horrendous odds.  I am the one out of five ruptured brain aneurysm sufferers who survive with no mental or physical deficits.  I am so very blessed!  

Fixing Things That "Ain't Broke"

 Not sure what's up with corporations that are always looking for gimmicks to make their products more desirable, but usually they totally miss the mark.  

Sometimes, the formula for the product is changed for the worse.  Sometimes, the product is replaced by another product that the company deems is the same, or better.  And sometimes, the product simply disappears, seemingly forever.  

I present to you, Exhibit A.  For years, I used a cosmetic foundation called Moisture Wear, from Cover Girl, I think.  It blended perfectly on my skin and made it easy to shop.  I knew the product and I knew the tint.  Great!  And then it was gone.  The company had flyers recommending the product that had replaced it.  Sorry.  Not the same.  I ended up buying several other (expensive) foundations before I found one that could be used.  The very same thing happened with a "permanent" lipstick that I found.  I fixed them!  I hardly ever wear makeup any more!

Exhibit B.  When I was on a serious diet a number of years ago, I settled on I Can't Believe It's Not Butter, Light as my spread of choice.  Out of nowhere, they announced a new and improved product, made with a "simpler" recipe.  They took out a lot of salt, and the product would no longer melt.  Spreading it was like spreading wax, which was also what it tasted like.  Neither my daughter nor I liked it, which launched us into buying alternatives in order to determine which would give us the taste and the fat content we desired.  She settled on Country Crock.  I settled on Land-o-Lakes Butter Light, with Canola Oil.  My daughter came to see things my way and also changed to my brand.  And now?  Because of the complications from the pandemic, it's nowhere to be found.  UGH!

Exhibit C.  In my country, one is either a Coke (Coca-Cola) fan or a Pepsi-Cola fan, and never the twain shall meet.  The competition between the two brands can be fierce, causing each to provide de-caffeinated varieties, flavored varieties, and (of course) diet varieties.  I am a Pepsi fan...and so is my daughter.  Many years ago, when sugar substitutes were replaced by aspartame, which tasted MUCH better than what was being used, I started drinking only Diet Pepsi as my soft drink of choice.  (I'm not a coffee or tea drinker.)  And then...and then...Pepsi decided to change the sweetener in the formula for Diet Pepsi, which made the "new and improved" drink totally unacceptable to faithful Diet Pepsi drinkers.  They didn't ask us!

This is ONE time when the reaction from the public made a difference.  After a number of months, the company went back to the original formula due to a huge outcry from consumers.  "Bring back the old Diet Pepsi!"  They actually listened!  Amazing!  I can now, once again, drink my one can per day in confidence!

I admit that I am somewhat a creature of habit.  I find products/brands that I like and stay faithful to them.  I have dabbled in off-brand products because they are cheaper.  Most, I like.  Some, I don't.  For example, not all sour creams or cream cheeses are the same in taste.  I've checked them all out and determined my favorites.  So be it! 

Notice that I'm not complaining about "supply chain" glitches.  We live with the backlash from the pandemic on a daily basis.  I get that.  My target, instead, is manufacturers who try to improve on an already-good product in order to pander to the "foodies".  I get that, too.

We have an expression here that comes complete with bad grammar and colloquialisms that totally hit the mark, and I agree:  If it ain't broke, don't fix it! 

       

Fingernails, Kidneys, Teeth, and Boomerism

 It's been awhile since I have made an entry here.  No, I have not been ill.  (Well, mostly not.)  I have, instead, been embroiled in emotional upset about things going on in our country that don't sit well with me, and I'm feeling a bit helpless about it.  If you know me at all, you know that I've always been a "damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead" kind of person.  I've always tried to give leadership to situations to make a difference; but, now that I am elderly and somewhat disabled, I've had to give up some control.  And I hate it.

I've spent a lot of time in the last 4-6 years avoiding dealing with the personal conflicts.  I've had  to for the sake of my sanity and blood pressure.  Thus, I will follow suit today by not talking about anything too deep.  Humor me.

1.  Fingernails.  When I was younger and more attractive, I spent every Sunday evening giving myself manicures.  I removed old polish, filed my nails into proper shape, and reapplied polish.  I've been blessed with very sturdy fingernails, so I always wore them longish, and kept them up religiously.  Even my students noticed.

After I retired, I was busy with my daughter and grandchildren who were living with me at the time, so the nails got pushed to the back burner.  Days turned into weeks, months, and years.  Changes happened in life.  Instead of polishing my nails, I was only clipping them to keep them short enough to type.  Good enough, yes?

For as long as I can remember, the tip of the nail on the index finger on my right hand was curved down.     Not sure why it is called that, but it means that the tip of the nail curves downward, which pushes the sides up.  I lived with it.  Over the last couple of years, however, five of my nails have curved down quite noticeably.  I Googled it.  Of course, Google claimed it could be anything from nutritional deficiencies to diseases.  One site called it "clubbing", but that meant that the involved fingers were swollen and out of shape, too...which is not the case for me.  It does say that the "clubbed" nails are a sign of lung disease.  Which I have.  So there we are.

All I do now is keep my nails much shorter than I used to.  If I don't clip them often, they are misshapen and ugly.  It hurts my vanity!

2.  Over about the last three years or so, I developed lymphedema (swelling) of my lower legs and feet.  Because of that, I "doctored" more than usual.  I was prescribed diuretics which sent my kidneys into a major tailspin.  Test results were so bad, at one point, that my doctor called and said if I started to feel bad, I should just present myself to the Emergency Room.  I was taken off the diuretics and told to drink lots of water.  The next blood test showed a perfect kidney result, but it was not to last.

My doctor left her practice to move on to the VA, so I established myself with one of her colleagues.  I had my first introductory appointment with the new doc a month or so ago.  We had a long talk in reviewing my test results, etc.  She is a gal of many specialties.  When I inquired about my kidneys, she told me--and I was glad to hear it out loud--that I had Stage 3 Kidney Disease, but had likely had it for a long time, and it was stable.  She explained that many patients with it never progress to Stage 4, which requires dialysis, so I was not to worry.  (Of course, I will anyway.)  I am not to take any NSAID painkillers, even though my cardiologist wants me to take a baby aspirin every day.  I seriously doubt that that little white pill could possibly hurt my kidneys!  I'll keep taking it until I'm told not to.

Oh, dear kidneys!  What did I ever do to you???

3.  And then there are teeth.  Both my brother and I were missing permanent teeth.  One dentist told our mother that we were probably the beginning of the evolution of toothless humans.  (Our sister had all of hers.  Proof again, that she got all of the good family genes!!)  The emergence of permanent teeth somehow dissolves the roots of baby teeth, which causes them to loosen and come out.  Without a permanent tooth coming in, the baby teeth stay, even though they were only designed to last for 5-10 years.

I was missing three regular teeth (two molars and one lateral incisor) and one wisdom tooth.  A canine tooth came in over the lateral incisor and kicked it out, with no permanent tooth to fill in the gap.  The two primary molars stayed and stayed, until one of them broke.  The dentist put a pin in it to give it more time, but eventually, over a many years, they both broke and had to be removed.  They held on probably 35 years longer than designed. 

The wisdom teeth were another story.  One came in somewhat normally, although it didn't emerge at the same level as the molar next to it.  Two others were impacted, which means they were sideways under the gums.  The fourth one didn't exist.  Way back in the 80s, I had the upper impacted wisdom tooth removed because I could taste something weird going on up there.  The other impacted tooth gave me fits when, somehow, it seemed to be pushing sideways out of my gums.  (It eventually stopped, so I didn't do anything about it.)  

Now, in my old age, my teeth are moving which, I'm told, means periodontal disease.  I have already accepted that I will probably end up with dentures or full mouth implants.  I have tooth problems on a regular basis!

My father, God rest his soul, had not one cavity in his teeth, ever, even though he claimed that he didn't even own a toothbrush until he was 19.  He died in 1994, at age 76, with his original choppers still intact.  Why couldn't I have inherited that????           

4.  And now, the piece de resistance <---that's French:  I was born in 1947, which makes me part of a generation known as Baby Boomers.  This refers to a glut of babies born after soldiers and sailors came home from WWII.  Baby Boomers were raised by parents who have come to be known as the Greatest Generation...those who survived the Great Depression, fought in two wars, and worked hard to provide for their families.  In our family, family was first.  We were raised with solid values and expectations, leadership, and always always love.  We weren't spoiled in the least, but we always knew we were protected and cared for by our parents who wanted more for us than what they had.

The "Boomers" grew up in the 50s, 60s, and early 70s.  At the college level, we somehow became the Vietnam War generation, the anti-war protest generation, the drug generation, the "free love" generation, the "Hippie" generation, shaped by the assassinations of JFK, MLK, RFK, Malcomb X, and many, many others who were seeking to eliminate racial segregation.  Politics was divided among the hawks (Republicans) and the doves (Democrats), and things got insane with race riots and political demonstrations that resulted in deaths and more division.  In short, Boomers were rebelling against the "establishment" of the previous generation, and the previous generation was fighting back.

In the middle of it all, I was a silent sympathizer.  I felt what the anti-war protesters felt.  Did I participate?  No.  I had too much respect for all that my parents had gone through in life to betray them with rebellion.  I am both proud of myself for that and ashamed that I didn't have the courage to buck what was wrong with society back then.  They sacrificed a lot for us kids, and I didn't want to reject that just to make a point.     

So now, in my old age, the internet seems to blame my generation for the way things are now.  Apparently Boomers vote Republican.  Apparently Boomers are nasty and unbending.  Apparently Boomers are selfish, entitled, and power-grabbing...and that's where the big question mark appears over my head.  That's not me.  That's not us.  Or, at least, I didn't think it was.  I'm not at all sure when the Boomers became the villains for the current generation.  I would LOVE to have a civil conversation with someone who blames "us" for today's ills, just to get a handle on what went wrong.  I honestly don't get it.  I want to, but I don't.  It isn't part of my experience.

I'm not a risk taker.  I simply don't make waves.  Never have, deliberately.   And so, I will now take my weird fingernails, damaged kidneys, and rotten teeth into my Boomer lair--like Grendel's fen--and hide.  God bless us, every one!

I'm not happy with the way things are going in MY country right now