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!
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