Whew, it's been a while. I'm out of practice! A few people recently have asked how I'm doing so I thought I'd just go ahead and update my brain blog. Brain is good! But my scar definitely hurts, or at least is sensitive to the weather, mostly cloudy days. This may actually be an advantage if I can now predict weather! (bah-da-bing!/cymbal crash.) My left arm is nearly normal, I still drop stuff with my left hand, or, like, I'll be walking with a cup of water & not realize it's actually leaning, leaking, onto me or the floor. My kids must think I'm a drunk! My shoulder is still being a pain in the...ah...shoulder. It's still acting weird. If I'm in the car, reading in bed, or just leaning back on my shoulder blade my arm just feels like lead. Still does the somewhat painful crik-crak thing adjusting itself, but not as often. I can type with two hands now, but not as fast. I probably will go ahead & ask my doctor for an x-ray of my arm while insurance is still covering 100%.
The bottom line is, I can drive, work, dress the girls, wash their hair, chop parsley -- which is all important in my recovery, but some days I worry. I learned at work when I tried to lift a stack of books over my head onto a shelf above me, that the arm still has some ways to go. It gave out and all the books came back & hit me & the floor.
Tomorrow is my last dose of Keppra (hooray!). Then I'll only be on my thyroid medicine, iron supplements for anemia, and that nasty warfarin sodium (only through October). I actually made a list of my leftover medications for the Free Clinic when I contacted them about a drug donation (Virginia doesn't seem to have a drug take-back program anywhere) but they can't take them unsealed. But while writing out the list -- Dilantin, Keppra, Lisinopril, Dexamethasone, Phenytoin, Synthroid (different dose) -- each of those drugs has a specific meaning and memory for me (all bad). Looking at them was proof of how far I have come. It's hard to see it day by day, but when I realize I couldn't even hold my left arm up at all, I can acknowledge my progress.
Also in the medicine cabinet were the supplements I bought BEFORE the diagnosis, when I wasn't feeling well & just thought I needed to be healthier: a gigantic bottle of 600 mg calcium supplements, Vitamin D-400 I.U., Vitamin B6 (wrong, should have bought B12), and 500mg Vitamin C. I was taking a woman's all-purpose vitamin too. For the January spasms (good name for a band, no?), which I thought were just caused by stress from (you name it!) -- images from the Haitian earthquake, the Appomattox massacre, feeling overworked at the bookstore during the Christmas season during finals, heavy snow & 18 days straight with the girls (& no car) while Ethan did snow removal at LC, and then going back to school 2nd semester, I had purchased: Valerian Root 530mg for sleep, Visine-A allergy relief for my bloodshot/swollen eyes (crying, allergies, who knows?), Bach's Rescue Remedy for anxiety, and Boron's homeopathic gelsemium sempervirens for "stage fright/apprehension" for my upcoming public speaking class. God. I wanted to depress my system so much to stop those muscle spasms from happening. I was so worried about being embarrassed having a spasm in public. But my head kept throbbing and my pulse pounded in my right ear, keeping me awake, and luckily it all led me to an MRI machine. Dang! It was all in my head!
I think we just want to medicate ourselves because we're afraid the problem may be worse than we thought. The thing is, the body is neutral, whatever is happening in there is going to keep happening, unless you get help from a professional. Really, I could have tried to smother my spasms with all sorts of things but they would have kept breaking through all that stuff. And, as my readers all know, they were seizures anyway.
So, I did finish CVCC with a 4.0 & have transferred to Randolph College. I am super-super excited to be there as an Art History/Museum Studies student. This semester I'm starting slow: Studio Art, Contemporary Art, Three Ancient Cities (Rome, Athens, Alexandria), and Special Topics: Art Collecting/Collections. All of this has been in the back of my mind since I saw the interview below, which was so inspiring to me I actually cried at the end for what the world had lost (i.e. a person who is enthusiastic and passionate about something). Kirk Varnedoe helped me to understand that I did not have to be an intellectual to understand some forms of art, especially abstract art. This was back in 2003 & I had caught it by accident. Actually, maybe it was just fate.
It's about an hour so I understand if you don't watch it, but you should some day!
http://www.charlierose.com/view/interview/1835
It's dark & rainy here right now, which is great -- it reminds me fall is coming. Well, I should do a bit of housework & be a good wife and mother! Ha!
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Thursday, June 3, 2010
"...with my mind on my money & my money on my mind..."
Well, things seem to be stabilizing for me, or perhaps it's just a good day. Physical & occupational therapy has ended, and I'm on my own to continue to rehab myself (did a little weeding with the gimpy hand this morning). I turned in my availability at work (sad face) but it was nice to go in & see some people who seemed like they actually missed me (smile). Two of my least favorite employees (immature boys, like, ages 19 & 21) have flown the coop, so no more lame conversations, teasing, and racist jokes -- woohoo! There's just that certain demographic I have nothing in common with, the local "country-boy-let's-hit-ourselves-over-the-head-with-beer-bottles-and-run-over-our-ex-girlfriend's-stuff-in-our-trucks-(interchangeable with "shooting-up-said-stuff-with-guns-or-rifles") segment.
I met with my neurologist, Dr. Wallace, yesterday, & he thought things were great. In about two weeks, no more Dilantin (yay!), but I'll keep the Keppra & Coumadin up for several more months. I got the "okay" to drive. I quit the Lisinopril on my own & my month-long cough disappeared in a few days (bad side effect). I'll have to monitor my blood pressure through check-ups or get something new to take.
Still working on school assignments, taking my public speaking class, wondering what to do with the kids this summer being so broke...we didn't qualify for any financial assistance with the remainder of what we owe for the deductible or out-of-pocket. Not a huge surprise but -- how can the state look at our gross income & "assets" (being an 11-year-old Subaru & Ethan's 401K, which we cannot touch) and not even count living expenses? I mean, really. We are certainly not living in poverty, believe me, but we could technically have some problems on the horizon. When I start work, that will help, but we're two months behind on about everything. At least we have great insurance!
So is there anything different about me? In the head? Actually, there are a few things which may or may not be related to the neurosurgery. I really really really want to be somewhere other than Lynchburg. I'm desperate. Oh well. My imagination seems to have expanded, before I was very happy being settled and safe on our little piece of rented land here. Too anxious/apprehensive to leave is more of the truth.
Also, after this Diego Rivera paper I did for Humanities (did you know he inspired the WPA public murals & Federal Art Programs of FDR's 2nd New Deal?! For real! I had no idea!) I'm ready to visit his murals in Detroit or Mexico City. Who's with me? I dream of getting some sort of internship in Europe & living overseas for a bit with the family. Like I said above I couldn't ever imagine going to Europe -- too scared to fly. But I just want to go somewhere. This city is a stick in the mud.
Like I posted earlier, my motion sickness is better. And headaches.
Somehow I can drink liquor again. I could not stand the stuff after college. Just about every kind. I had not even had a drop of (my most favorite) gin since this one evening in the fall of 1989. Since my mom reads this I won't go into details, hysterical and unfortunate as they may be. All of a sudden this weekend I had a (very weak, lots of limes) gin & tonic with Ethan & his Uncle Rennie. It was good. I can't really drink because of my medications so I just sipped very slowly. Mmm, gin, "it had been so long". This is quite a strange thing...I mean, why would this happen -- being able to drink this stuff again all of a sudden?
Anyway, enough pontificating for now. Got another appointment.
I met with my neurologist, Dr. Wallace, yesterday, & he thought things were great. In about two weeks, no more Dilantin (yay!), but I'll keep the Keppra & Coumadin up for several more months. I got the "okay" to drive. I quit the Lisinopril on my own & my month-long cough disappeared in a few days (bad side effect). I'll have to monitor my blood pressure through check-ups or get something new to take.
Still working on school assignments, taking my public speaking class, wondering what to do with the kids this summer being so broke...we didn't qualify for any financial assistance with the remainder of what we owe for the deductible or out-of-pocket. Not a huge surprise but -- how can the state look at our gross income & "assets" (being an 11-year-old Subaru & Ethan's 401K, which we cannot touch) and not even count living expenses? I mean, really. We are certainly not living in poverty, believe me, but we could technically have some problems on the horizon. When I start work, that will help, but we're two months behind on about everything. At least we have great insurance!
So is there anything different about me? In the head? Actually, there are a few things which may or may not be related to the neurosurgery. I really really really want to be somewhere other than Lynchburg. I'm desperate. Oh well. My imagination seems to have expanded, before I was very happy being settled and safe on our little piece of rented land here. Too anxious/apprehensive to leave is more of the truth.
Also, after this Diego Rivera paper I did for Humanities (did you know he inspired the WPA public murals & Federal Art Programs of FDR's 2nd New Deal?! For real! I had no idea!) I'm ready to visit his murals in Detroit or Mexico City. Who's with me? I dream of getting some sort of internship in Europe & living overseas for a bit with the family. Like I said above I couldn't ever imagine going to Europe -- too scared to fly. But I just want to go somewhere. This city is a stick in the mud.
Like I posted earlier, my motion sickness is better. And headaches.
Somehow I can drink liquor again. I could not stand the stuff after college. Just about every kind. I had not even had a drop of (my most favorite) gin since this one evening in the fall of 1989. Since my mom reads this I won't go into details, hysterical and unfortunate as they may be. All of a sudden this weekend I had a (very weak, lots of limes) gin & tonic with Ethan & his Uncle Rennie. It was good. I can't really drink because of my medications so I just sipped very slowly. Mmm, gin, "it had been so long". This is quite a strange thing...I mean, why would this happen -- being able to drink this stuff again all of a sudden?
Anyway, enough pontificating for now. Got another appointment.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
What's Happenin'?
Howdy. A lot has happened since I last wrote, not necessarily to me, but it's been quite busy. We had visitors in town after my last hospitalization: a huge heaping of gratitude to Mariam and family -- hanging out on the deck the afternoon you left made me realize how much Ethan & I have missed being social beings. Why'd you guys have to move away?! (I know why, because we would have too if it had been us!). Cousin Buffy came up from North Carolina to be my personal chauffeur & must have been so bored, being a 23 year old stuck in Lynchburg. Her mom, Ethan's Aunt Candy, showed up mid-week & took over, bringing food, cooking, and exhibiting the familiar trait of fast & furious DeSilvey cleaning (Ethan did not inherit this, though he does dig a mean garden). I also got Candy's fiance's recipe for Pimiento Cheese Spread, which I devoured. I remember people ordering this when I worked at Timberlake's Soda Fountain in Charlottesville in high school and thinking it was gross. But Louie has learned me!
A special thank you to my friend Barb, who brought us 4 or 5 meals, even though she is a mother of 3, nannies for 2, is a Girl Scout leader, a volunteer, and super-wife. She will be taking me to campus 3 nights a week in May so we can both cower our way through the required (& dreaded) public speaking class at CVCC. We talk politics too often and agree our new governor makes us both cry.
Yesterday was my last day of physical therapy. Legs are done! I could have used more time but my insurance only covers 30 visits and my arm/hand needs more attention than the legs. I still will have occupational therapy. My gait isn't totally normal but that also has a lot to do with my arm throwing off my balance. My arm is all about trouble these days. Mischief maker! There's always something going on. Besides the periods of it feeling like it's numb or asleep, my ring finger and pinky are not getting the message to shape up. I'm trying to use them typing here but it's slow. My grip is good (from 6 lbs to 21 lbs), but I'm still at around 20% recovered, and the goal is 40% since it's my non-dominant hand. I have a very strange clicking in my shoulder, which I try to avoid, because the sensation is like a mini-dislocation. However, I have been told by the great ladies who have been working on me I have a non-gliding scapula, which is causing the humerus to catch. It is not a nice sensation. I still can't pull anything, like wet clothes out of the washer or the bottom dishwasher rack without a nasty crick-crack of pain or weird stuff rearranging itself. I'm working on stretching out the scapula by reaching into cabinets, washing my hair with both hands, and putting my shirt on over my head. My OT Candice had me playing Connect 4 yesterday. Except here in therapy, I get a 2-lb weight on my wrist, have to reach 3 feet up to retrieve my black checker from the top of this platform, get a pair of pinchers, put the checker in the pinchers (pinching with my left hand), and lift it up into the Connect 4 plastic holder and drop it in. We played 6 games of this. But I didn't cry! Just worked through it.
I did a little planting in the garden to use my left hand (parsley, marigolds (I noticed I bought the "Disco" variety (wha?), and a nice big Columbine). It was a good exercise for my hand but also frustrating because it takes forever. I told Ethan: "I am SO over this". Of course, taking your time in the garden isn't a bad thing. I saw a mound of dirt moving & saw an insect I'd never seen before, watched the worms wriggling around, even the half-worms Ethan created by turning the garden over. Poor guys. I listened to all of the birds in the trees, watched Odette pretending to be a tiger in the grass...Right now she's at the window sill eating moths and mayflies. I also pruned our gigantic Rosemary shrub in the front, I took off about 15 2-foot branches. Anyone need any?!
I still am over medicated and asked for "incompletes" for my classes. I'll have until July to finish but I'll aim for the end of May. I am confused easily, forget the words for things, space out, my face has been breaking out since my time in UVA Hosp. I haven't had zits for years, since I stopped caking makeup on my face (they like that in the south). Bummer. My friend Mariam treated me to a haircut when she visited, which was nice. I was so self-conscious of my hair and scar but the hair dresser was great (Amanda Caldwell, Hair Dimensions, near the Boonsboro Kroger).
What else can I say? Not much. I'm here, haven't gone back to work yet, but I need to -- we're feeling the pinch. I'll still be gimpy but luckily it's not a super-physical job.
This is cousin Buffy with Bea
An old Missoula friend, from '01-'02 days, Sam, came through on his way up the Appalachian Trail & stayed 3 days, 2 nights. He rested, cooked, cleaned, entertained the kids -- it was great. His wife Jen is in Madison, WI, working as a nurse & hanging with the 2 kids. Saint Jenny!
Our old friend Sam taking a break from the Appalachian Trail
A special thank you to my friend Barb, who brought us 4 or 5 meals, even though she is a mother of 3, nannies for 2, is a Girl Scout leader, a volunteer, and super-wife. She will be taking me to campus 3 nights a week in May so we can both cower our way through the required (& dreaded) public speaking class at CVCC. We talk politics too often and agree our new governor makes us both cry.
Yesterday was my last day of physical therapy. Legs are done! I could have used more time but my insurance only covers 30 visits and my arm/hand needs more attention than the legs. I still will have occupational therapy. My gait isn't totally normal but that also has a lot to do with my arm throwing off my balance. My arm is all about trouble these days. Mischief maker! There's always something going on. Besides the periods of it feeling like it's numb or asleep, my ring finger and pinky are not getting the message to shape up. I'm trying to use them typing here but it's slow. My grip is good (from 6 lbs to 21 lbs), but I'm still at around 20% recovered, and the goal is 40% since it's my non-dominant hand. I have a very strange clicking in my shoulder, which I try to avoid, because the sensation is like a mini-dislocation. However, I have been told by the great ladies who have been working on me I have a non-gliding scapula, which is causing the humerus to catch. It is not a nice sensation. I still can't pull anything, like wet clothes out of the washer or the bottom dishwasher rack without a nasty crick-crack of pain or weird stuff rearranging itself. I'm working on stretching out the scapula by reaching into cabinets, washing my hair with both hands, and putting my shirt on over my head. My OT Candice had me playing Connect 4 yesterday. Except here in therapy, I get a 2-lb weight on my wrist, have to reach 3 feet up to retrieve my black checker from the top of this platform, get a pair of pinchers, put the checker in the pinchers (pinching with my left hand), and lift it up into the Connect 4 plastic holder and drop it in. We played 6 games of this. But I didn't cry! Just worked through it.
Our beautiful chives -- under-appreciated blooms
I did a little planting in the garden to use my left hand (parsley, marigolds (I noticed I bought the "Disco" variety (wha?), and a nice big Columbine). It was a good exercise for my hand but also frustrating because it takes forever. I told Ethan: "I am SO over this". Of course, taking your time in the garden isn't a bad thing. I saw a mound of dirt moving & saw an insect I'd never seen before, watched the worms wriggling around, even the half-worms Ethan created by turning the garden over. Poor guys. I listened to all of the birds in the trees, watched Odette pretending to be a tiger in the grass...Right now she's at the window sill eating moths and mayflies. I also pruned our gigantic Rosemary shrub in the front, I took off about 15 2-foot branches. Anyone need any?!
I still am over medicated and asked for "incompletes" for my classes. I'll have until July to finish but I'll aim for the end of May. I am confused easily, forget the words for things, space out, my face has been breaking out since my time in UVA Hosp. I haven't had zits for years, since I stopped caking makeup on my face (they like that in the south). Bummer. My friend Mariam treated me to a haircut when she visited, which was nice. I was so self-conscious of my hair and scar but the hair dresser was great (Amanda Caldwell, Hair Dimensions, near the Boonsboro Kroger).
What else can I say? Not much. I'm here, haven't gone back to work yet, but I need to -- we're feeling the pinch. I'll still be gimpy but luckily it's not a super-physical job.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
You're always on my mind...
I tried three times to get some home occupational therapy practice by typing with my weak left hand but it was infuriating. My ring finger & pinky drag along the keyboard causing all sorts of problems. I even published my half-sentence twice by accident (my wrist caused that). I'll have to pick a different activity in a bit, like turning over playing cards or picking up the little plastic counting bears.
I tackled our pile of mail today, it's been growing steadily for 6 weeks & I have had to avert my eyes when near it. (I don't see you nasty pile of mail! I don't!) Anyway, I nearly have all the bills in order. It actually crossed my mind to use Excel (*gasp!* It IS useful Russ!) to track all the bills/payments and such from 1/24/10 and on...would that bore you to see my bills? Too bad! It's fascinating actually. We'll see how much time it will take me. I haven't gotten any bills yet from my most recent re-hospitalization, so it won't include everything.
Instead, I'll try to return to my calm and optimistic self by telling you briefly about last Thursday in Charlottesville. The MRI was freaky again. I didn't need a Valium like the first time but a blindfold helps. I asked for 70s & 80s music & was not disappointed by the radio station piped in through headphones. I mean, who doesn't love Steely Dan singing: You go back, Jack, & do it again/wheel turnin' round & round:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K_YIUn9Jd1g
(I had to choose a lame homemade video because the others just didn't make the cut). It's hard to stay completely still when I hear this because it has such a good beat, but while getting the MRI, if you're not still, they have to re-do it. And then a song I never appreciated until now, "Jack & Diane" (recorded when he was just John Cougar): Hold on to 16/as long as you can/changes come 'round real soon/make us women & men:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jcJz-x6idd8&feature=PlayList&p=84929727A39820B7&playnext_from=PL&playnext=1&index=48
This song was the first time I heard the name James Dean. I was 10 and investigated -- who's that?
Around 1983 I heard of Marilyn Monroe from Joe Elliott of Def Leppard talking about "Photograph" & that started a lifelong love for her. It's funny how pop culture is inspired by past pop culture. I've learned a lot just by being a fan.
C'mon, watch it! Look what you've done to this rock n' roll clown!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VZ5bS3_BCDs
When I was 12, Duran Duran got their picture taken by Andy Warhol & I was obsessed with him too. I've always copied.
Then on to Warhol's temporary muse Edie, of course. Young + Rich + Famous = dead by 27. I had heard her name but it wasn't until hanging out in Monty Chowdury's basement in 9th or 10th grade I saw her. Monty's sister Nina (or maybe it was Bella) had painted a huge wall-sized portrait. I remember the CHS newspaper printing a picture of it too. When you get older, you start to realize people you thought were cool & tragic just weren't that smart. And they were also rather empty. I'd never idolize Edie now, though she had charisma.
Sorry, all stuff that you don't need to know, I just had an 70s/80s moment. I was more or less in journal-memory-mode instead of present-brain-blog mode.
I was thinking of a blog posting of my late classmate Ernie, who described the MRI chamber as "the loneliest place on Earth". He got a lot of them, & I will be getting them regularly for a while; then hopefully once every 5 years. Ernie was right in a lot of ways, it's a cocoon, but a very obnoxious & loud one, and you are there, alone with your thoughts and hopes for a scan showing good news. You wait for the rescue-squad-siren-scan that vibrates the table you're on (kinda fun) and then the "Aliens" movie-alarm-scan, almost expecting to hear: "you now have two minutes to reach minimum safe distance". Then they inject you with contrast dye, which you can feel travel throughout your whole body, head to fingertips to toes. It's a warm wave, then gone.
But -- I have to say, the MRI office at the Fontaine Research Park in Charlottesville is busy. There are so people many needing scans, I didn't feel so alone. There was someone before me & after me, all going through the same experience. That doesn't mean Ernie wasn't right, because it is just you for nearly an hour in that small space, or that I'm not dreading my next one in 6 months. (I think Ernie would appreciate my 80s segue by the way.) After the MRI I told Ethan: "all I need is for Dr. Shaffrey to say my head is normal, & I think I'll make it through today". I had just been discharged from Lynchburg General the night before & still feeling worried and stressed.
I need to wrap this up. After the MRI we saw Dr. Shaffrey at the UVA Neurosurgery Clinic, and he went over the scans. Before & After. I wish I had the scans to post here but the Medical Records Dept didn't have my new ones yet. My scans looked great. My brain has already made itself comfy by stretching out and filling the space where the tumor was. My head looks normal. Dr. Shaffrey was very happy and quite pleased with the results. He was almost surprised to find nothing wrong. He said he had to admit, it had turned out well. Ethan said: "Dr. Shaffrey, you know it's okay to toot your own horn" and the doc said: "that thing was enormous, no one in their 30s should have that in their head!", I'm very happy with the way it turned out." I said: "If you're happy Dr. Shaffrey, then I am happy!"
I tackled our pile of mail today, it's been growing steadily for 6 weeks & I have had to avert my eyes when near it. (I don't see you nasty pile of mail! I don't!) Anyway, I nearly have all the bills in order. It actually crossed my mind to use Excel (*gasp!* It IS useful Russ!) to track all the bills/payments and such from 1/24/10 and on...would that bore you to see my bills? Too bad! It's fascinating actually. We'll see how much time it will take me. I haven't gotten any bills yet from my most recent re-hospitalization, so it won't include everything.
Instead, I'll try to return to my calm and optimistic self by telling you briefly about last Thursday in Charlottesville. The MRI was freaky again. I didn't need a Valium like the first time but a blindfold helps. I asked for 70s & 80s music & was not disappointed by the radio station piped in through headphones. I mean, who doesn't love Steely Dan singing: You go back, Jack, & do it again/wheel turnin' round & round:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K_YIUn9Jd1g
(I had to choose a lame homemade video because the others just didn't make the cut). It's hard to stay completely still when I hear this because it has such a good beat, but while getting the MRI, if you're not still, they have to re-do it. And then a song I never appreciated until now, "Jack & Diane" (recorded when he was just John Cougar): Hold on to 16/as long as you can/changes come 'round real soon/make us women & men:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jcJz-x6idd8&feature=PlayList&p=84929727A39820B7&playnext_from=PL&playnext=1&index=48
This song was the first time I heard the name James Dean. I was 10 and investigated -- who's that?
Around 1983 I heard of Marilyn Monroe from Joe Elliott of Def Leppard talking about "Photograph" & that started a lifelong love for her. It's funny how pop culture is inspired by past pop culture. I've learned a lot just by being a fan.
C'mon, watch it! Look what you've done to this rock n' roll clown!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VZ5bS3_BCDs
When I was 12, Duran Duran got their picture taken by Andy Warhol & I was obsessed with him too. I've always copied.
Then on to Warhol's temporary muse Edie, of course. Young + Rich + Famous = dead by 27. I had heard her name but it wasn't until hanging out in Monty Chowdury's basement in 9th or 10th grade I saw her. Monty's sister Nina (or maybe it was Bella) had painted a huge wall-sized portrait. I remember the CHS newspaper printing a picture of it too. When you get older, you start to realize people you thought were cool & tragic just weren't that smart. And they were also rather empty. I'd never idolize Edie now, though she had charisma.
Sorry, all stuff that you don't need to know, I just had an 70s/80s moment. I was more or less in journal-memory-mode instead of present-brain-blog mode.
I was thinking of a blog posting of my late classmate Ernie, who described the MRI chamber as "the loneliest place on Earth". He got a lot of them, & I will be getting them regularly for a while; then hopefully once every 5 years. Ernie was right in a lot of ways, it's a cocoon, but a very obnoxious & loud one, and you are there, alone with your thoughts and hopes for a scan showing good news. You wait for the rescue-squad-siren-scan that vibrates the table you're on (kinda fun) and then the "Aliens" movie-alarm-scan, almost expecting to hear: "you now have two minutes to reach minimum safe distance". Then they inject you with contrast dye, which you can feel travel throughout your whole body, head to fingertips to toes. It's a warm wave, then gone.
But -- I have to say, the MRI office at the Fontaine Research Park in Charlottesville is busy. There are so people many needing scans, I didn't feel so alone. There was someone before me & after me, all going through the same experience. That doesn't mean Ernie wasn't right, because it is just you for nearly an hour in that small space, or that I'm not dreading my next one in 6 months. (I think Ernie would appreciate my 80s segue by the way.) After the MRI I told Ethan: "all I need is for Dr. Shaffrey to say my head is normal, & I think I'll make it through today". I had just been discharged from Lynchburg General the night before & still feeling worried and stressed.
I need to wrap this up. After the MRI we saw Dr. Shaffrey at the UVA Neurosurgery Clinic, and he went over the scans. Before & After. I wish I had the scans to post here but the Medical Records Dept didn't have my new ones yet. My scans looked great. My brain has already made itself comfy by stretching out and filling the space where the tumor was. My head looks normal. Dr. Shaffrey was very happy and quite pleased with the results. He was almost surprised to find nothing wrong. He said he had to admit, it had turned out well. Ethan said: "Dr. Shaffrey, you know it's okay to toot your own horn" and the doc said: "that thing was enormous, no one in their 30s should have that in their head!", I'm very happy with the way it turned out." I said: "If you're happy Dr. Shaffrey, then I am happy!"
Saturday, April 10, 2010
The Slow Fade
A big HI! to those who have stayed with me. I didn't even want to blog about this last experience but if I suppress it, it will just stay buried somewhere until one day..."we don't know why she pulled out all of her I.V.s, stripped off her hospital gown and went screaming through the halls -- she was such a quiet girl." Sorry, because it wasn't actually the worst experience ever but I was not ready to be in the hospital (jail) again. Mentally, it was hard to keep it together.
So, I had mentioned I spent 9 hours in the car recently. Don't do this post-surgery. I also was on too much Lisinopril (started on 20mg instead of the usual 5-10mg for blood pressure). Much pain (thought I had an intestinal blockage but a side effect (allergic reaction) is swelling of the intestines). That may not have even happened but the pain & breathing problems were very real. I took Benadryl & avoided an ER visit. A leg cramp developed which I thought was a sore muscle from phys. therapy, but by Easter Sunday I could barely walk & my leg was so swollen, throwing off my balance. It was a constant charley-horse. I was very worried about deep vein thrombosis. The next afternoon, off to the ER anyway. My sister & brother-in-law graciously babysat for hours since they were in town, having spent Easter with us (& the cousins had a sleepover). Lifesavers!
Anyone who has ever been to the ER knows how it goes. I spent 9 hours there, between the actual ER & the Admissions bay down the hall. In order not to get angry or freak out, I enjoy watching sports in situations like these. Before Bea's birth I watched football highlights. This time I caught the entire "Opening Day" St. Louis Cardinals vs. Cincinnati Reds game. All 9 innings! Unheard of! I hate baseball! But it is utterly calming when you just stare at it for long periods of time. Every once in a while I would check the score so I could at least know who was winning. It also introduced me to a handsome young man named Colby Rasmus:
http://mlb.mlb.com/video/play.jsp?content_id=7275549
-- he definitely made it easier on the eyes to watch. Who needs Pujols? Of course after further thought concerning baseball players (& I had nothing but time to contemplate this), Colby just can't replace my top guy, Tim Lincecum:
http://mlb.mlb.com/news/article.jsp?ymd=20100405&content_id=9092334&vkey=recap&fext=.jsp&c_id=mlb
So, I enjoyed the game, got an ultrasound of my calf, found out I had a blood clot behind my right knee (my good leg damn it!) & the ER doc (think Ralph Fiennes, but from Boston, and named Dr. Madonick) called my neurosurgeon to make sure it was safe to be put on blood thinners. Dr. Shaffrey gave him the okay since we were 6 weeks out from the craniotomy & I shouldn't bleed anywhere up there. My heart sank & I got depressed when I heard the word "admit" though. I have a minor hospital phobia now & I wanted to RUN.
The ultrasound was easy of course, except for the few minutes I was left alone on my bed in the radiology hallway, waiting my turn, facing the MRI Suite. I hadn't been there since the day of my diagnosis & it all came back. What a cliche! Grieving the loss of the "old me" whoever that was, but I miss her. The new me may live a lot longer though. But I'll never be the same. I had to acknowledge this. I cried and the poor ultrasound girl thought I was mad at having to wait for so long. I expressed all my feelings to her but she wasn't the empathetic type. Blank. Some really young hospital employees aren't used to listening. Maybe if I had texted it? (Sorry, more bad attitude.)
So, in the ER you hear things. Here are a few examples: An elderly man yelling in the room next to me between hacking coughs: "Nurse! I'm bleeding again!", retching that sounded like Golem, and between nurses: "Can you do bay 28? It's a car wreck. I hate doing car wrecks (laughter)". Crying babies, moaning, "environmental clean up" or "isolation clean up" pages throughout the hallways -- what did I expect? Finally safe in the Admissions bay, Joni from Georgia asked me endless questions, some which we joked about: "Bowel movements? Titanium plates? Yes & Yes!" Dr. Kim, the Hospitalist, finally came to see me, tell me about Coumadin (blood thinner/rat poison) & what a nasty drug it is: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Warfarin . He was Japanese, with a black faux-hawk, and a shiny pink shirt with even shinier pink pinstripes and black pants. Very sharp. The pink worked. Not a lot of guys could pull that off. He seemed to say "I'm sorry" a lot but I actually told him I was okay. Business as usual.
I won't bore you with all the details of this hospitalization, I certainly didn't take pictures this time because I was so mad. Lynchburg General Hospital's Acute Care Unit is like a hotel. The East Wing is all private rooms with flat screen t.v.s, nice cabinetry, huge bathrooms, & a fold out couch for guests. Nice view of the mountains. This must be to compensate for the quality of their care. I was admitted Monday night & on Tuesday had no idea if I would see a doctor, get on the Coumadin, or stay another night until I finally had to ask around 3pm. I brag about my patience but then in times like these I get Ethan on the phone & just lose it: through sobs: "Why am I even here, no one can tell me anything!" My nurse had no idea, but then again, I had to remind her to give me my Keppra dose. After he arrived Ethan went to the desk & a Hospitalist, Dr. Woodward, was in our room in 10 minutes. The end result was I had to stay another night. If insurance approved the Lovenox shots, we could do them at home, & make our Thursday appt with Dr. Shaffrey for my MRI & check up.
Wednesday morning I just really wanted to see my daughters. My mom & dad had come down on short notice and had been babysitting since Monday evening. A big thanks to them. I felt very lucky for them to be so close & to have a lifeline. Ethan's mom had done this for us too. Another thanks to my sister & her family. Stuck in bed again, blood work, vitals, Lovenox injections, hospital air, Ethan asleep on the couch next to me, stressed about falling behind on schoolwork, seeing the security camera on the roof out the window, & thinking JAIL...just repeating to myself -- you can make it, you'll make it, you'll make it. Thinking of Ernie, who did this for eight years.
My last nurse was the best, Sarah S. She was so attentive, sat on my bed and talked to me, didn't ignore my tears (waterworks man, like all the time -- I can't control it). She hustled too! I got her card so I can write a letter saying what a great nurse she is. Dr. Woodward gave us the okay to go. When I said goodbye to Sarah, she said "I don't want you to go!". I was easier than most. She had been dealing all day with an elderly patient who was a bit confused & wouldn't let Sarah leave, or would yell "please help me" out her door, or hit the call button constantly. Sarah was waiting for her patient to be released back to her nursing home so she could have more time for the rest of her patients. Again, I could never do this job.
Definitely left a piece of myself at the hospital again, just not literally like last time.
So, I had mentioned I spent 9 hours in the car recently. Don't do this post-surgery. I also was on too much Lisinopril (started on 20mg instead of the usual 5-10mg for blood pressure). Much pain (thought I had an intestinal blockage but a side effect (allergic reaction) is swelling of the intestines). That may not have even happened but the pain & breathing problems were very real. I took Benadryl & avoided an ER visit. A leg cramp developed which I thought was a sore muscle from phys. therapy, but by Easter Sunday I could barely walk & my leg was so swollen, throwing off my balance. It was a constant charley-horse. I was very worried about deep vein thrombosis. The next afternoon, off to the ER anyway. My sister & brother-in-law graciously babysat for hours since they were in town, having spent Easter with us (& the cousins had a sleepover). Lifesavers!
Anyone who has ever been to the ER knows how it goes. I spent 9 hours there, between the actual ER & the Admissions bay down the hall. In order not to get angry or freak out, I enjoy watching sports in situations like these. Before Bea's birth I watched football highlights. This time I caught the entire "Opening Day" St. Louis Cardinals vs. Cincinnati Reds game. All 9 innings! Unheard of! I hate baseball! But it is utterly calming when you just stare at it for long periods of time. Every once in a while I would check the score so I could at least know who was winning. It also introduced me to a handsome young man named Colby Rasmus:
http://mlb.mlb.com/video/play.jsp?content_id=7275549
-- he definitely made it easier on the eyes to watch. Who needs Pujols? Of course after further thought concerning baseball players (& I had nothing but time to contemplate this), Colby just can't replace my top guy, Tim Lincecum:
http://mlb.mlb.com/news/article.jsp?ymd=20100405&content_id=9092334&vkey=recap&fext=.jsp&c_id=mlb
So, I enjoyed the game, got an ultrasound of my calf, found out I had a blood clot behind my right knee (my good leg damn it!) & the ER doc (think Ralph Fiennes, but from Boston, and named Dr. Madonick) called my neurosurgeon to make sure it was safe to be put on blood thinners. Dr. Shaffrey gave him the okay since we were 6 weeks out from the craniotomy & I shouldn't bleed anywhere up there. My heart sank & I got depressed when I heard the word "admit" though. I have a minor hospital phobia now & I wanted to RUN.
The ultrasound was easy of course, except for the few minutes I was left alone on my bed in the radiology hallway, waiting my turn, facing the MRI Suite. I hadn't been there since the day of my diagnosis & it all came back. What a cliche! Grieving the loss of the "old me" whoever that was, but I miss her. The new me may live a lot longer though. But I'll never be the same. I had to acknowledge this. I cried and the poor ultrasound girl thought I was mad at having to wait for so long. I expressed all my feelings to her but she wasn't the empathetic type. Blank. Some really young hospital employees aren't used to listening. Maybe if I had texted it? (Sorry, more bad attitude.)
So, in the ER you hear things. Here are a few examples: An elderly man yelling in the room next to me between hacking coughs: "Nurse! I'm bleeding again!", retching that sounded like Golem, and between nurses: "Can you do bay 28? It's a car wreck. I hate doing car wrecks (laughter)". Crying babies, moaning, "environmental clean up" or "isolation clean up" pages throughout the hallways -- what did I expect? Finally safe in the Admissions bay, Joni from Georgia asked me endless questions, some which we joked about: "Bowel movements? Titanium plates? Yes & Yes!" Dr. Kim, the Hospitalist, finally came to see me, tell me about Coumadin (blood thinner/rat poison) & what a nasty drug it is: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Warfarin . He was Japanese, with a black faux-hawk, and a shiny pink shirt with even shinier pink pinstripes and black pants. Very sharp. The pink worked. Not a lot of guys could pull that off. He seemed to say "I'm sorry" a lot but I actually told him I was okay. Business as usual.
I won't bore you with all the details of this hospitalization, I certainly didn't take pictures this time because I was so mad. Lynchburg General Hospital's Acute Care Unit is like a hotel. The East Wing is all private rooms with flat screen t.v.s, nice cabinetry, huge bathrooms, & a fold out couch for guests. Nice view of the mountains. This must be to compensate for the quality of their care. I was admitted Monday night & on Tuesday had no idea if I would see a doctor, get on the Coumadin, or stay another night until I finally had to ask around 3pm. I brag about my patience but then in times like these I get Ethan on the phone & just lose it: through sobs: "Why am I even here, no one can tell me anything!" My nurse had no idea, but then again, I had to remind her to give me my Keppra dose. After he arrived Ethan went to the desk & a Hospitalist, Dr. Woodward, was in our room in 10 minutes. The end result was I had to stay another night. If insurance approved the Lovenox shots, we could do them at home, & make our Thursday appt with Dr. Shaffrey for my MRI & check up.
Wednesday morning I just really wanted to see my daughters. My mom & dad had come down on short notice and had been babysitting since Monday evening. A big thanks to them. I felt very lucky for them to be so close & to have a lifeline. Ethan's mom had done this for us too. Another thanks to my sister & her family. Stuck in bed again, blood work, vitals, Lovenox injections, hospital air, Ethan asleep on the couch next to me, stressed about falling behind on schoolwork, seeing the security camera on the roof out the window, & thinking JAIL...just repeating to myself -- you can make it, you'll make it, you'll make it. Thinking of Ernie, who did this for eight years.
My last nurse was the best, Sarah S. She was so attentive, sat on my bed and talked to me, didn't ignore my tears (waterworks man, like all the time -- I can't control it). She hustled too! I got her card so I can write a letter saying what a great nurse she is. Dr. Woodward gave us the okay to go. When I said goodbye to Sarah, she said "I don't want you to go!". I was easier than most. She had been dealing all day with an elderly patient who was a bit confused & wouldn't let Sarah leave, or would yell "please help me" out her door, or hit the call button constantly. Sarah was waiting for her patient to be released back to her nursing home so she could have more time for the rest of her patients. Again, I could never do this job.
Definitely left a piece of myself at the hospital again, just not literally like last time.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Big Mouth Strikes Again
So I'm sorry to have caused shock and awe (thanks for the outrage but I'm afraid I duped you into it) to the few who commented on my Nothin's Free posting. Of course I was totally wrong. I deleted the post. I did some googling today, & still haven't figured much out, but I assumed Rector and Visitors had something to do with visiting chaplains, and mistakenly confused rector for rectory (duh, obviously I'm lacking in this area -- hush now, Lynn). I'm so relieved to know the chaplains are there, for patients and not for profit.
So, I did figure out the Rector & Visitors run the UVA Medical Center, but on the internet they don't leave much of a trail & are a bit mysterious. Administrative committees...in high places, creep me out a little.
So, I did figure out the Rector & Visitors run the UVA Medical Center, but on the internet they don't leave much of a trail & are a bit mysterious. Administrative committees...in high places, creep me out a little.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Trippin' Ya'll
I seriously got worked during my Occupational Therapy (OT) & Physical Therapy (PT) appointment today. I just didn't realize the aches and pains it would cause. These folks don't mess around! I had to go on some high-blood pressure meds last week because it was getting so high I wasn't allowed to finish the PT or had to skip it all together. At one point today I was supposed to hold a 4 lb. ball and do abdominal crunches, coming up & placing the ball between my knees. Are you kidding? My belly has not done anything like this since the Physical Fitness Test in high school. I could not hold the ball with my left hand anyway, so it waits for me another time. I'm all belly, there are no ab muscles in there. Especially since I gained more weight & was in a bad position for 9 hours in the car yesterday, I can barely take a deep breath. Bad posture big time. I actually weigh the same as before, it's just lost muscle in legs has turned itself into my belly. Ugh.
I just went on a "mini-vacation" courtesy of Ethan's parents (Mar. 25-29). It was planned last fall when I was normal. After everything that happened these past few months, the trip was still on -- though I kind of wondered how in the world I would make it. I was so worried I wouldn't make it back. I mean, like my head would swell or I'd have the seizure to end all seizures & be far away from a hospital. We were on Fripp Island in S. Carolina, which is both residential living and a resort. It 's nearly 20 minutes from Beaufort, which has a vibrant downtown (for tourists) and huge lovely houses. It also has the Marine Base (chronicled by Pat Conroy in The Great Santini) but I didn't get to see many jets flying around. They obviously skip flying over the resort areas.
South Carolina is a strange place. Driving through the mainland reminds me of Iowa, another place I never need to see again (though Iowa City is beautiful, I'll admit) but really all you need to know about Iowa is that this is where the band Slipknot comes from (Des Moines suburbs).
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=doQyXaKF_Ts
Okay, so it's not a bad song after all these years actually. Maybe I shouldn't have looked it up. It's just the mask gimmick. This is 9 guys in creepy masks. I could do it for Kiss. But not for guys from Iowa.
Obviously I totally lost my way last paragraph. Back to SC -- Anyway, talk about poverty, black & white. Do these people have anyone looking out for them? The roads are absolutely horrible, NC & VA are so smooth & clean. There is trash everywhere until it becomes nicer & then there are signs for various volunteer "adopt a highway programs". Cheraw is a great little town, so quaint Sherman decided not to torch it. It's also where Dizzy Gillespie was the only black resident allowed in the local club to "entertain". Beaufort, Fripp, Hilton Head, these are beautiful areas mostly for the whites, who never have to acknowledge how the rest of the state lives. (Sorry & not to offend, because these places are gorgeous & there is a lot of ecosystem preservation going on). I think about Gov. Mark Sanford, who flew down to S. America in a govt plane to visit his mistress. I especially think about the nicely tanned, just played a round of golf yahoo Joe Wilson, who yelled at Obama "You Lie!". Okay Mark & Joe, tell me about that 12.8 % unemployment rate & the roads filled with potholes. Tell me about the several instances that I saw in which state cops had pulled people over on the highway, they were black. Tell me why people visit plantations? Glory days? Architecture & landscaping may be okay reasons, but like I told Ethan's mom -- these were not nice people. I guess I can appreciate the tunnels of live oaks with spanish moss, but the houses? The myth of the southern aristocracy? So there's my liberal rant for the day. Could it be without the tumor I'm even more opinionated and stereotype people more? Then stick that thing back in there! Geez.
So, I'm sorry -- I seem unable to keep my thoughts to myself. There is something different about my personality -- I am a little less shy, I really enjoy talking to strangers (wha?), I laugh more (honestly), I don't get car sick anymore (for now).
Our view from the porch.
It was a good trip overall, besides my various ranting. Our rental house on Fripp Island was the perfect size and the screened-in porch had a perfect view of a boardwalk over the marsh, filled with egrets, Great Blues, seagulls, tri-colored herons, & various other marsh birds. At one point Ethan's dad was throwing a net over the boardwalk and a Great Blue Heron landed on the railing and watched, waiting for a handout. He didn't get a fish but Dennis had a special little chat with the Blue & Josie & Bea quietly walked out on the walkway to see it all happen. We also had a young buck with little velvet bumps on his head come to the back where the girls gave it some crust. (I know you shouldn't feed the wildlife, but these critters already seemed tame.) It was a very calm and relaxing visit for everyone.
The Great Blue is about 3 inches to the right.
Our new friend eating crust cut from PBJs.
The highlight for me was eating at the Gullah Grub Restaurant on St. Helena Island. There was a t.v. inside running a loop of shows & documentary-type stuff and we saw the owner (Bill Green) cooking oysters on the Martha Stewart show, and then Ethan said "do you recognize that voice?" and I said "just tell me" and it was Anthony Bourdain! (His South Carolina episode from season 3.) He was watching Bill making "Frogmore stew" and a she-crab boil or something. I looked at the t.v. and there was Anthony, sitting in the dining room. I said to Ethan "It's like we're living out an Anthony Bourdain episode!" The Gullah waitress, beautiful & funny, & I talked about our love for Anthony. The sweet potato pie was magical. Ethan's dad recreated the Frogmore stew later on & it was yummy. I was determined though not to let anyone peel the shrimp for me -- I needed to prove I could do it one handed.
Gullah Grub Restaurant. First time I ever drank Swamp Water, Arnold Palmer's favorite mix: sweet tea + lemonade, served in a mason jar. I imagine his may be a little spiked.
I just went on a "mini-vacation" courtesy of Ethan's parents (Mar. 25-29). It was planned last fall when I was normal. After everything that happened these past few months, the trip was still on -- though I kind of wondered how in the world I would make it. I was so worried I wouldn't make it back. I mean, like my head would swell or I'd have the seizure to end all seizures & be far away from a hospital. We were on Fripp Island in S. Carolina, which is both residential living and a resort. It 's nearly 20 minutes from Beaufort, which has a vibrant downtown (for tourists) and huge lovely houses. It also has the Marine Base (chronicled by Pat Conroy in The Great Santini) but I didn't get to see many jets flying around. They obviously skip flying over the resort areas.
South Carolina is a strange place. Driving through the mainland reminds me of Iowa, another place I never need to see again (though Iowa City is beautiful, I'll admit) but really all you need to know about Iowa is that this is where the band Slipknot comes from (Des Moines suburbs).
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=doQyXaKF_Ts
Okay, so it's not a bad song after all these years actually. Maybe I shouldn't have looked it up. It's just the mask gimmick. This is 9 guys in creepy masks. I could do it for Kiss. But not for guys from Iowa.
Obviously I totally lost my way last paragraph. Back to SC -- Anyway, talk about poverty, black & white. Do these people have anyone looking out for them? The roads are absolutely horrible, NC & VA are so smooth & clean. There is trash everywhere until it becomes nicer & then there are signs for various volunteer "adopt a highway programs". Cheraw is a great little town, so quaint Sherman decided not to torch it. It's also where Dizzy Gillespie was the only black resident allowed in the local club to "entertain". Beaufort, Fripp, Hilton Head, these are beautiful areas mostly for the whites, who never have to acknowledge how the rest of the state lives. (Sorry & not to offend, because these places are gorgeous & there is a lot of ecosystem preservation going on). I think about Gov. Mark Sanford, who flew down to S. America in a govt plane to visit his mistress. I especially think about the nicely tanned, just played a round of golf yahoo Joe Wilson, who yelled at Obama "You Lie!". Okay Mark & Joe, tell me about that 12.8 % unemployment rate & the roads filled with potholes. Tell me about the several instances that I saw in which state cops had pulled people over on the highway, they were black. Tell me why people visit plantations? Glory days? Architecture & landscaping may be okay reasons, but like I told Ethan's mom -- these were not nice people. I guess I can appreciate the tunnels of live oaks with spanish moss, but the houses? The myth of the southern aristocracy? So there's my liberal rant for the day. Could it be without the tumor I'm even more opinionated and stereotype people more? Then stick that thing back in there! Geez.
So, I'm sorry -- I seem unable to keep my thoughts to myself. There is something different about my personality -- I am a little less shy, I really enjoy talking to strangers (wha?), I laugh more (honestly), I don't get car sick anymore (for now).
It was a good trip overall, besides my various ranting. Our rental house on Fripp Island was the perfect size and the screened-in porch had a perfect view of a boardwalk over the marsh, filled with egrets, Great Blues, seagulls, tri-colored herons, & various other marsh birds. At one point Ethan's dad was throwing a net over the boardwalk and a Great Blue Heron landed on the railing and watched, waiting for a handout. He didn't get a fish but Dennis had a special little chat with the Blue & Josie & Bea quietly walked out on the walkway to see it all happen. We also had a young buck with little velvet bumps on his head come to the back where the girls gave it some crust. (I know you shouldn't feed the wildlife, but these critters already seemed tame.) It was a very calm and relaxing visit for everyone.
The highlight for me was eating at the Gullah Grub Restaurant on St. Helena Island. There was a t.v. inside running a loop of shows & documentary-type stuff and we saw the owner (Bill Green) cooking oysters on the Martha Stewart show, and then Ethan said "do you recognize that voice?" and I said "just tell me" and it was Anthony Bourdain! (His South Carolina episode from season 3.) He was watching Bill making "Frogmore stew" and a she-crab boil or something. I looked at the t.v. and there was Anthony, sitting in the dining room. I said to Ethan "It's like we're living out an Anthony Bourdain episode!" The Gullah waitress, beautiful & funny, & I talked about our love for Anthony. The sweet potato pie was magical. Ethan's dad recreated the Frogmore stew later on & it was yummy. I was determined though not to let anyone peel the shrimp for me -- I needed to prove I could do it one handed.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Just thinkin' about stuff...probably need a nap.
Today's NASA image is a bit strange. Not sure I like the "Martian spring". So, I was trying to think about what to write. I've had some unproductive days & today I feel really disappointed in the leaders of my home state of Virginia. First, they are taking hundreds of millions from public schools, second, they completely got rid of the ban on discriminating (in layman's terms, being harassed daily by your good ol' boy co-workers) against homosexual state employees, and third, wanting to "opt out" of the Health Care Reform Bill. What happened to my blue state? I hope I don't do anything drastic once I'm better. I'm so mad at these horrible, closed-minded leaders. OH -- and fourth, passing a bill honoring Pat Robertson as some sort of legendary citizen or something. Am I the only one who knows about his Liberian gold mines? Ugh. I need to be inspired people!
I'm mad. Or maybe moodiness is a side effect. I have to say, I'm not sure how this anti-seizure drug Dilantin ever got approved. It's like poison. The side effects are nasty and I seem to have all of them. Even some of the rare ones. I empathize with anyone who needs it for epilepsy. It will be lowered in a few days, I can't wait! I can barely type right now because of it, double vision, fatigue.
At the same time I'm thinking of two guys I've known who have gone into the great beyond. One overdosed on heroin in Seattle on his birthday (9/22/07). Our family had our going away party (we were leaving Missoula, Montana), that night & a friend from work came over and we joked about him, she said she had called him, or was going to. We talked about what a dork he was (we both adored him) while looking at pictures of him on her cell. The next morning when Ethan told me, I immediately cried out "suicide -- he hated his parents -- what day would you pick if you hated them!". Those close to him thought it was accidental, so I've mellowed. But if you've ever done heroin before, quit it (for a decade) and move to Seattle of all places, seek it out, how will it end this time? We had gone to Seattle earlier in April (Zoo for the girls, some flash work at Madam Lazonga's Tattoo for me, aquarium for the girls, visiting Kurt Cobain's house for me, so 90s), and I had tried before the trip to contact this friend but he had changed his number. I could have asked my co-worker, but I didn't. I didn't try. Then he died that fall.
And then there's Ernie, who I mentioned in my last post. I had no idea what was happening, or had been happening to him, which was fighting these rare kinds of brain tumors for the last eight years. Chemo, radiation, Gamma Knife, being studied...my first thought after reading his March 17, 2010 entry was "I feel like such a jerk, my blog is all "no anxiety, except for that time I lost my basket at Target". I know, I know, I didn't know Ernie was going through this, but if I did, maybe I would have been writing things less flippantly.
Besides going on many a band trip with Ernie (CHS Marching band), I just had this affection for him, even since middle school. He was one of my most favorite people, an upperclassman who never snubbed you, always smiling, goofy, never angry. I don't even remember if it was middle or high school, but kids used to "trade" Swatch watches for a week or two. There were so many different kinds going around, & I always preferred the men's size. I think I had the comet one (my first was the clear see-through one but it yellowed!), which had come out for Halley's Comet. But he had the style of all styles: the Keith Haring one with the dancing figures around the face, red and yellow. I was really into Andy Warhol for a time so I knew Keith Haring, and I prayed and prayed Ernie would forget I had it. Nope. I had to give it back. Bummer. I think the only time we had been in touch since his graduation was when I asked (via Facebook) if he still had it & he was like "are kidding? I still troll eBay for other ones but they are so expensive!" (Actually there aren't even many on eBay, (and none like his) I just checked.) I just wish he'd told me about his blog. But you know, he was either private or didn't want sympathy. I was almost a stranger.
In December 2009, he got blood work done and was later told he had NO platelets. The doctor basically told him "quarantine yourself, you can't get a cold". While trying to find out the cause, he got a biopsy (bone marrow? but my short term memory has become very fuzzy from meds). On February 24, 2010, the day after my brain surgery, he got the news his sample was malignant, and it was leukemia. 2-6 months to live. I wish I had gotten in touch sooner of course, but knowing late is better than not knowing at all. Imagine going to his FB profile, not paying attention to other postings and writing "What's up Ernie? How ya been?" What a jerk I would be, man.
His blog:http://wheresernieshead.blogspot.com/
So there are two stories, equally tragic. The difference being that one of them really wanted to live, and had been fighting to live for EIGHT years. The other really did not, and while I still love him (but not his addiction) I am still mad at him. What a waste...(fill in the blank movie buffs (is this really a word?)).
Rest easy you two -- never forgotten.
I'm mad. Or maybe moodiness is a side effect. I have to say, I'm not sure how this anti-seizure drug Dilantin ever got approved. It's like poison. The side effects are nasty and I seem to have all of them. Even some of the rare ones. I empathize with anyone who needs it for epilepsy. It will be lowered in a few days, I can't wait! I can barely type right now because of it, double vision, fatigue.
At the same time I'm thinking of two guys I've known who have gone into the great beyond. One overdosed on heroin in Seattle on his birthday (9/22/07). Our family had our going away party (we were leaving Missoula, Montana), that night & a friend from work came over and we joked about him, she said she had called him, or was going to. We talked about what a dork he was (we both adored him) while looking at pictures of him on her cell. The next morning when Ethan told me, I immediately cried out "suicide -- he hated his parents -- what day would you pick if you hated them!". Those close to him thought it was accidental, so I've mellowed. But if you've ever done heroin before, quit it (for a decade) and move to Seattle of all places, seek it out, how will it end this time? We had gone to Seattle earlier in April (Zoo for the girls, some flash work at Madam Lazonga's Tattoo for me, aquarium for the girls, visiting Kurt Cobain's house for me, so 90s), and I had tried before the trip to contact this friend but he had changed his number. I could have asked my co-worker, but I didn't. I didn't try. Then he died that fall.
And then there's Ernie, who I mentioned in my last post. I had no idea what was happening, or had been happening to him, which was fighting these rare kinds of brain tumors for the last eight years. Chemo, radiation, Gamma Knife, being studied...my first thought after reading his March 17, 2010 entry was "I feel like such a jerk, my blog is all "no anxiety, except for that time I lost my basket at Target". I know, I know, I didn't know Ernie was going through this, but if I did, maybe I would have been writing things less flippantly.
Besides going on many a band trip with Ernie (CHS Marching band), I just had this affection for him, even since middle school. He was one of my most favorite people, an upperclassman who never snubbed you, always smiling, goofy, never angry. I don't even remember if it was middle or high school, but kids used to "trade" Swatch watches for a week or two. There were so many different kinds going around, & I always preferred the men's size. I think I had the comet one (my first was the clear see-through one but it yellowed!), which had come out for Halley's Comet. But he had the style of all styles: the Keith Haring one with the dancing figures around the face, red and yellow. I was really into Andy Warhol for a time so I knew Keith Haring, and I prayed and prayed Ernie would forget I had it. Nope. I had to give it back. Bummer. I think the only time we had been in touch since his graduation was when I asked (via Facebook) if he still had it & he was like "are kidding? I still troll eBay for other ones but they are so expensive!" (Actually there aren't even many on eBay, (and none like his) I just checked.) I just wish he'd told me about his blog. But you know, he was either private or didn't want sympathy. I was almost a stranger.
In December 2009, he got blood work done and was later told he had NO platelets. The doctor basically told him "quarantine yourself, you can't get a cold". While trying to find out the cause, he got a biopsy (bone marrow? but my short term memory has become very fuzzy from meds). On February 24, 2010, the day after my brain surgery, he got the news his sample was malignant, and it was leukemia. 2-6 months to live. I wish I had gotten in touch sooner of course, but knowing late is better than not knowing at all. Imagine going to his FB profile, not paying attention to other postings and writing "What's up Ernie? How ya been?" What a jerk I would be, man.
His blog:http://wheresernieshead.blogspot.com/
So there are two stories, equally tragic. The difference being that one of them really wanted to live, and had been fighting to live for EIGHT years. The other really did not, and while I still love him (but not his addiction) I am still mad at him. What a waste...(fill in the blank movie buffs (is this really a word?)).
Rest easy you two -- never forgotten.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Crummy Cathy
Okay, so I was warned about this. Gavin MacCleery (P.A. Neurosurgery) told me I would recover quickly for a time and then...nothing. I would come to a plateau of sorts where things would slow down. Yesterday was that day. It does seem now like the tumor had nothing to do with my headaches, because I did have a migraine for a good part of the day (damn new moon, or is it the equinox?). I felt so completely crummy, muscle aches from physical therapy, my head, so exhausted, stressed I could not do school work in preparation for a test today. I got out of bed for a few spoonfuls of oatmeal, up again for Facebook and to eat some crackers (sorry I missed your call Caroline!), and one more time for an Excel project (complete failure, those formulas!) and a rice and cheese burrito. I slept nearly all day, and then I slept all night (except for the daily 6am Keppra dose). I didn't even hear the girls chatter when they got up at 7:30am. I can't say I'm "rejuvenated", but I'm up, no headache, no heartburn yet from the coffee (side effect from a med), the wrens are singin' away (so loud for such a little bird), Ethan's about to make eggs, folks come for a visit tomorrow, so, things are good right now. Except for this darn Excel test I should have postponed a bit longer!
Still thinking about one of my most favorite people from middle & high school, Ernie Deomampo Jr., who died 2 days ago from leukemia (he had battled problems with brain tumors for years). I am going to write a little more about him and give a link to his blog. I didn't even know he was sick until the day before he died. I would not have known at all except he popped up on the Facebook sidebar that said "reconnect with" and for once, I did it. It was too late to actually reconnect, though I left a few comments I hope his family can read. I don't know, I started to read his blog from the beginning and I just wish I had known he had one! I would have been reading it for years (though I know he was very private about some things in his life). I imagine his blog was really just for close friends.
Still thinking about one of my most favorite people from middle & high school, Ernie Deomampo Jr., who died 2 days ago from leukemia (he had battled problems with brain tumors for years). I am going to write a little more about him and give a link to his blog. I didn't even know he was sick until the day before he died. I would not have known at all except he popped up on the Facebook sidebar that said "reconnect with" and for once, I did it. It was too late to actually reconnect, though I left a few comments I hope his family can read. I don't know, I started to read his blog from the beginning and I just wish I had known he had one! I would have been reading it for years (though I know he was very private about some things in his life). I imagine his blog was really just for close friends.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Ron & John, Motorcycle Men
You guys. I'm so glad you visited me. Ron & John were part of our whole gang in high school. We used to hang out in the parking lot after school and even had spray painted our names on the cement parking things. I wonder how others saw us sometimes, were we the dorky crowd or the friendly ones? The party crowd (doubtful) or the normal ones? Who knows. I guess, who cares! There they were, at the foot of my hospital bed, John, lanky with his legs stretched out, Ron, ever the weightlifter/football player, legs open and leaning back. They have their own bike team now and have been riding together for many years. Very fast bikes, the crotch rocket kind. I remember many years ago getting on the back of John's bike to go out to some party in the country (a very lame one if I remember correctly) and asking to get off as we sped down Cherry Ave. I was terrified and rode in a car out there instead. I liked to drive fast, but couldn't handle the speed of a motorcycle.
We caught up a little more in my hospital room. We talked about our 20th high school reunion, which we'd had in October. I regret not talking to these two and their wives more during it, but it was like a wedding, a little time with each, not a lot with any. We did agree it was a little weird. We mentioned specific classmates and gossiped a little. I talked about my dad's restoration project, this 1965 Lincoln Town Car, and John talked about wanting to maybe find an old Cadillac. It was a great visit & left me feeling sentimental. My folks showed up and John immediately went up to my dad and said something about owing him an apology, 20 years late. I believe my dad may have said something about "I've been looking for you for 20 years" -- this was the reconciliation about egging and toilet papering our house after I had egged his car. Or was it Chad's? It was bad (& fun) either way.
We all chatted for a bit longer and then they left so I could spend time with my folks (who I'm also grateful for visiting so many times, along with my sister's family. It's so nice not to be forgotten!
We caught up a little more in my hospital room. We talked about our 20th high school reunion, which we'd had in October. I regret not talking to these two and their wives more during it, but it was like a wedding, a little time with each, not a lot with any. We did agree it was a little weird. We mentioned specific classmates and gossiped a little. I talked about my dad's restoration project, this 1965 Lincoln Town Car, and John talked about wanting to maybe find an old Cadillac. It was a great visit & left me feeling sentimental. My folks showed up and John immediately went up to my dad and said something about owing him an apology, 20 years late. I believe my dad may have said something about "I've been looking for you for 20 years" -- this was the reconciliation about egging and toilet papering our house after I had egged his car. Or was it Chad's? It was bad (& fun) either way.
We all chatted for a bit longer and then they left so I could spend time with my folks (who I'm also grateful for visiting so many times, along with my sister's family. It's so nice not to be forgotten!
Hey Laura!
I'm sorry to say this but as I thought about this post that song by Christopher Cross was continuously going through my head: "When you think of Laura...Hey Laura...". Wasn't it "Laura's Theme" from General Hospital, the soundtrack to the whole Luke & Laura saga? Was Tony Geary really a heart throb?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Luke_and_Laura
I apologize Laura, for even bringing all of this up. You deserve more! I met Laura in the band freshman year in high school. I played clarinet and she played flute in both the wind ensemble and the marching band (the best ever, always #1, we won everything!). We also shared a mutual friend Natascha, who also played flute. There was many a band trip together but not many classes because she was much smarter than I. I remember she took over as manager of the boys lacrosse team after I had lied to my folks and snuck away on an out of town trip for the team to play Collegiate. (I was supposed to be at band practice & to this day still don't know how my folks found out. I clearly remember almost throwing up the day my dad picked me up from work at Mr. Donut and asked "what were you doing the weekend of...?). Anyway, no more managing for me -- I was devastated (no more Rob!). I was very envious watching Laura out on the field during games keeping track of stats. What's funny is so many years later my husband and the previously mentioned Rue worked with this Rob, who, predictably had no idea who I was. Typical.
Laura came to Lynchburg with the other gals I have mentioned and we took her kids and mine to one of the few places Lynchburg has going for it -- Amazement Square, a kids play place/museum/educational/ 4-story building downtown. I had not really been in touch that often with her but it was great when she came to visit at the hospital. She brought with her a gift from Bodo's -- sesame bagels and a tub of Lox spread, which Ethan & I scarfed down as a midnight snack later. It really hit the spot. Laura didn't stay long so we really couldn't talk, I think my parents and my sister's family may have been there too. Luckily she'll be visiting us for lunch in about 2 weeks so we can connect then.
Laura is cool. She has been through a lot but is so together, classy, brilliant, and as my mom always mentions whenever she sees her: "I just think Laura is so beautiful." I do too! Thanks Laura, I can't wait to see you in April!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Luke_and_Laura
I apologize Laura, for even bringing all of this up. You deserve more! I met Laura in the band freshman year in high school. I played clarinet and she played flute in both the wind ensemble and the marching band (the best ever, always #1, we won everything!). We also shared a mutual friend Natascha, who also played flute. There was many a band trip together but not many classes because she was much smarter than I. I remember she took over as manager of the boys lacrosse team after I had lied to my folks and snuck away on an out of town trip for the team to play Collegiate. (I was supposed to be at band practice & to this day still don't know how my folks found out. I clearly remember almost throwing up the day my dad picked me up from work at Mr. Donut and asked "what were you doing the weekend of...?). Anyway, no more managing for me -- I was devastated (no more Rob!). I was very envious watching Laura out on the field during games keeping track of stats. What's funny is so many years later my husband and the previously mentioned Rue worked with this Rob, who, predictably had no idea who I was. Typical.
Laura came to Lynchburg with the other gals I have mentioned and we took her kids and mine to one of the few places Lynchburg has going for it -- Amazement Square, a kids play place/museum/educational/ 4-story building downtown. I had not really been in touch that often with her but it was great when she came to visit at the hospital. She brought with her a gift from Bodo's -- sesame bagels and a tub of Lox spread, which Ethan & I scarfed down as a midnight snack later. It really hit the spot. Laura didn't stay long so we really couldn't talk, I think my parents and my sister's family may have been there too. Luckily she'll be visiting us for lunch in about 2 weeks so we can connect then.
Laura is cool. She has been through a lot but is so together, classy, brilliant, and as my mom always mentions whenever she sees her: "I just think Laura is so beautiful." I do too! Thanks Laura, I can't wait to see you in April!
Kim, RN
What a surprise to have Kim walk into the NICU to see me. She works at UVA Hospital and I had not seen her since her wedding to Reuhl (sp?), an intense former Marine, drummer, and co-worker of Ethan's at a local landscaping company. Or was it at our wedding? Or that dinner at Northern Exposure? The years run together after a decade. Kim now brings home the bacon, while Rue is a stay-at-home dad, something I'm not sure he even believes. She told us some funny stories but couldn't stay since she was working. I look forward to getting all of kids together for a play date soon. Thanks Kim, it was so good to see you!
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Michele, My Belle
My Michele. Guns 'N' Roses wrote a song about you. Ooops -- wrong Michelle! (Thank goodness.) Michele & I didn't do a whole lot together during high school, but when we went off to Tech together we got to be real close. She was on the tennis team and quite dedicated, I pretty much just smoked and wore my leather jacket, trying to look "different" (sigh). How she could stand me, I have no idea. She was the friend who loved music, and we connected and shared that. I was bleaching my hair and into Metallica (my love for them ends with And Justice For All, I'm a purist, just sayin'), but also The Cure (Disintegration had just come out) and Depeche Mode's Violator (I had loved them since 8th grade). Oh my gosh, Motley Crue's Dr. Feelgood! I made her listen to that a lot. She didn't mind (did you?). Michele, wow -- she liked RAP and knew all the words! Old Skool style! Public Enemy, Kool Moe Dee, Big Daddy Kane, N.W.A. to name a few. That band with MC Serch. I may have wanted to be metal, but she was my idol! We went to see Aerosmith together for the "Pump" tour and all I remember was Sebastian Bach (alright ladies, big sigh, those lips!) of Skid Row being a much more energetic and charismatic front man that Steven Tyler. Not that it matters. Eventually she transferred to VCU for the graphic arts program and I felt the loss of her company. I knew VCU was a much better fit. Tech ain't artsy folks.
Then, not much of anything. I knew she got married. I'm not sure I even knew she had kids. She disappeared and I was out west. I had skipped the ten year reunion in 1999 which maybe would have been my chance, but there was no way I was going to that. Too soon. I didn't even try to find these people, I think I was intent on leaving high school behind. And college too.
But the 20 year reunion...I was up for that. Michele and I finally connected. I can't remember if it was from the Reunion website, Facebook, or what. But she was part of this early reunion of Kel, Laura, Michele, & I in Lynchburg. Michele was still the athlete. I had seen pictures of her snowboarding, biking in a 100 mile race (what the?), I saw pictures of her adorable sons and knew that she had gotten divorced. She was very independent, hip, running her own design company -- all while working full time. Superwoman!
When it came time for the CHS 20th Reunion, I could feel myself chickening out. Ethan & I also didn't have anything extra to get the tickets with. We have a rather slim existence in Lynchburg & I was quite embarrassed to tell her we could not get tickets when the time came. She fixed that by arranging for us to have free admittance. The organizers had tix set aside for cases just like us. I was grateful, but now I had to go! I was anxious! Michele had told me: "You don't understand CAP, I need you to be there." It had been so long, I guess I wasn't prepared for Michele's dedication to me. I love this girl!
The 20th Reunion ended up being a lot of fun for Ethan & I, I won't chronicle that here in the blog but Michele looked so beautiful (actually, super hot! Admit it people!) that night & I was so happy to be there as her old friend after so many years. Out of all the people who contacted me about my diagnosis, she took it the hardest. I reassured her I was doing okay, but she was really scared for me. She was the most sentimental out of our peer group from high school. We arranged for her to come by my parents house the night before I went into the hospital. We left Lynchburg really late and I was so worried it would be too late for her to drive from Culpeper. When we got to Ruckersville to my folks, she was already there. I was so happy, content, and relieved!
We had a great dinner there (sill need those recipes mom!) with Michele and with Ethan's mom, Kathy (who left to stay with a friend), and then Grandma Lois, Grandpa Warren, & Ethan took care of the girls while Michele and I talked for a few hours. The most important thing she explained to me was about visiting the hospital. I wasn't sure I wanted anyone to visit. I didn't know how I'd look, I didn't want to gross anyone out...but Michele set me straight. She told me : "People who care about you just need reassurance that you are okay. It has nothing to do with how you look, that has nothing to do with it. We just want to see you." That's why I love Michele.
Her and Nicole did visit, and it was a great one. I remember feeling Michele's calm energy while she sat beside me. Very still, but solid. Her and Nicole combined made it whole.
Then, not much of anything. I knew she got married. I'm not sure I even knew she had kids. She disappeared and I was out west. I had skipped the ten year reunion in 1999 which maybe would have been my chance, but there was no way I was going to that. Too soon. I didn't even try to find these people, I think I was intent on leaving high school behind. And college too.
But the 20 year reunion...I was up for that. Michele and I finally connected. I can't remember if it was from the Reunion website, Facebook, or what. But she was part of this early reunion of Kel, Laura, Michele, & I in Lynchburg. Michele was still the athlete. I had seen pictures of her snowboarding, biking in a 100 mile race (what the?), I saw pictures of her adorable sons and knew that she had gotten divorced. She was very independent, hip, running her own design company -- all while working full time. Superwoman!
When it came time for the CHS 20th Reunion, I could feel myself chickening out. Ethan & I also didn't have anything extra to get the tickets with. We have a rather slim existence in Lynchburg & I was quite embarrassed to tell her we could not get tickets when the time came. She fixed that by arranging for us to have free admittance. The organizers had tix set aside for cases just like us. I was grateful, but now I had to go! I was anxious! Michele had told me: "You don't understand CAP, I need you to be there." It had been so long, I guess I wasn't prepared for Michele's dedication to me. I love this girl!
The 20th Reunion ended up being a lot of fun for Ethan & I, I won't chronicle that here in the blog but Michele looked so beautiful (actually, super hot! Admit it people!) that night & I was so happy to be there as her old friend after so many years. Out of all the people who contacted me about my diagnosis, she took it the hardest. I reassured her I was doing okay, but she was really scared for me. She was the most sentimental out of our peer group from high school. We arranged for her to come by my parents house the night before I went into the hospital. We left Lynchburg really late and I was so worried it would be too late for her to drive from Culpeper. When we got to Ruckersville to my folks, she was already there. I was so happy, content, and relieved!
We had a great dinner there (sill need those recipes mom!) with Michele and with Ethan's mom, Kathy (who left to stay with a friend), and then Grandma Lois, Grandpa Warren, & Ethan took care of the girls while Michele and I talked for a few hours. The most important thing she explained to me was about visiting the hospital. I wasn't sure I wanted anyone to visit. I didn't know how I'd look, I didn't want to gross anyone out...but Michele set me straight. She told me : "People who care about you just need reassurance that you are okay. It has nothing to do with how you look, that has nothing to do with it. We just want to see you." That's why I love Michele.
Her and Nicole did visit, and it was a great one. I remember feeling Michele's calm energy while she sat beside me. Very still, but solid. Her and Nicole combined made it whole.
Nicole (we did it like this, we did it like that)
Class of '89 just keeps on rockin' the hospital. I had not been in touch with either of these gals (Michele came too, but she'll get her own entry because this one turned out so long) while I was in Montana. Maybe Nicole once because I knew she was an avid scuba diver. Again, I have to give props to Facebook. I'll never knock it or complain about it again. (If all your hundreds of friends vanished, would you even know where they actually live? Have you written down phone numbers or addresses? Do you even know the names of their kids or do you skip all that?)
It's funny how friends can be part of the same "peer" group in high school, but each is completely individual and the things you end up doing with one may be *quite* different than what you do with another. Nicole was this for me. I believe she was the first to tap into what tiny spark of rebellion was brewing in my awkward little soul. I'll also say, peer groups are very malleable, people can come and go, and at this point I believe "our gang" had morphed into three couples. It made perfect sense Nicole & I would band together. Nicole was cool. She went to college parties (for God's sake) up at UVA. I thought only guys did that in high school. She had a Pee-Wee Herman doll that talked and knew all the words to The Beastie Boys "Licensed to Ill". What girl is this brilliant (besides Lex of course)?
We even wrote a rap/rhyme for Mr. Strong, the English teach, who inspired me to write and who I still think about. **(Last I heard he was teaching in a local womens prison and had even come across some old students there. Sorry to drift but on one of our family's visits back to VA we ended up sitting next to him outside at The Mudhouse. I said "Mr. Strong!" He looked at me for a bit, and I had to say "It's Pitts!" We had a good talk and it turns out his best friend lives in Missoula, MT. I loved him, he taught me to love poetry and to try writing it. He was a bit of a live wire though, & didn't make it through my senior year, which was unfortunate because he was the only reason I was even going to school, hence, let the skipping begin!)
One fateful night in Littlejohns Deli, Nicole lit up a cigarette and gave me some tips. We were using a sodapop top as an ashtray & I'm positive I must have looked like a dork. I didn't become a smoker until much later, so I don't blame Nicole at all. It was a choice I made consciously. BUT, the funny part is, remember how we used to listen to the radio? A day or so later my mom was driving me to school and they were doing the birthday announcements (probably on 3WV). "Happy Birthday to Cathy Pitts! From the one who taught you how to smoke!" I think I laughed out loud out of shock. My mom did not laugh. At all. Oh man, Nicole!
We may have caused some mischief around town, I was beginning to realize I liked leaving my shy self behind. The most notorious activity (except for one I better not mention too specifically, having to do with a pumpkin, doughnuts, and Vaseline) I engaged in was hanging out of the sunroof of Nicole's sweet blue Honda Prelude holding a dozen eggs in my hand, firing them off like a machine gunner at our friends Chad & John, going down Emmet St past where JPJ is now. One of them was trying to roll up his window & I think my last egg barely made it through -- Victory! Granted, this did have some repercussions later that night involving my parents house (eggs & toilet paper, anyone?), which I got mad about because -- it's my parents, get revenge on me! I guess we called it even & I have another story of "reconciliation" 20 years later in my hospital room about that. Too funny.
When we met up so many years later, I was happy to know her again, she had married, had a daughter, and was very successful. She really thought I should go back to school, and a few times was like, "Pitts, you back in school yet, what are you doing about that? I've always felt like she was one of my biggest fans.
Of course she was right there when I started to let people know about my tumor. Checking in and then setting up a visit since she would be driving from northern VA. (She still checks in every other day.) Nicole showed up with a wonderful bag of goodies. Michele was with her (entry forthcoming!). After she left I opened up a bright red box with a white bow & it was a wine colored scarf with magical hot air balloons on it from Talbot's. My goodness. Of course I cried. She later told me it had reminded her of UP, which I had watched the day after my diagnosis with my family and bawled at its emotion and beauty. (Bad idea, should have waited until after my surgery for that movie! So weepy I was!)
I can't remember that much of the visit unfortunately, I don't know if I had just gotten a Dilantin injection, or if I was just beat. Their company did make a difference and I was comforted by the fact they had made the trip into town. I do remember they teased me about the guy, Dave, doing vitals. "Of course Cathy would get the guy with the tattoos! Big surprise!" He was cute, like a young Michael Madsen, but I definitely must have been out of it because I always ask people about their tattoos, the artist who did them, and I missed asking him. I also remember Nicole's story of scuba diving in the Galapagos. Hanging on to a huge mass of barnacles, peeking over a little ridge, watching as hundreds of hammerhead sharks appeared out of the darkness. Nicole's cool like that -- and I love her for it! She has been so dedicated to whatever she's taken on, beginning with paying for college herself, working her way up, scuba diving around the globe, and now being a mother. She's done things in her life I could only imagine.
Even though Nicole & Michele visited together, I don't want this to be too long for any readers, so I'll give Michele her own entry too.
It's funny how friends can be part of the same "peer" group in high school, but each is completely individual and the things you end up doing with one may be *quite* different than what you do with another. Nicole was this for me. I believe she was the first to tap into what tiny spark of rebellion was brewing in my awkward little soul. I'll also say, peer groups are very malleable, people can come and go, and at this point I believe "our gang" had morphed into three couples. It made perfect sense Nicole & I would band together. Nicole was cool. She went to college parties (for God's sake) up at UVA. I thought only guys did that in high school. She had a Pee-Wee Herman doll that talked and knew all the words to The Beastie Boys "Licensed to Ill". What girl is this brilliant (besides Lex of course)?
We even wrote a rap/rhyme for Mr. Strong, the English teach, who inspired me to write and who I still think about. **(Last I heard he was teaching in a local womens prison and had even come across some old students there. Sorry to drift but on one of our family's visits back to VA we ended up sitting next to him outside at The Mudhouse. I said "Mr. Strong!" He looked at me for a bit, and I had to say "It's Pitts!" We had a good talk and it turns out his best friend lives in Missoula, MT. I loved him, he taught me to love poetry and to try writing it. He was a bit of a live wire though, & didn't make it through my senior year, which was unfortunate because he was the only reason I was even going to school, hence, let the skipping begin!)
One fateful night in Littlejohns Deli, Nicole lit up a cigarette and gave me some tips. We were using a sodapop top as an ashtray & I'm positive I must have looked like a dork. I didn't become a smoker until much later, so I don't blame Nicole at all. It was a choice I made consciously. BUT, the funny part is, remember how we used to listen to the radio? A day or so later my mom was driving me to school and they were doing the birthday announcements (probably on 3WV). "Happy Birthday to Cathy Pitts! From the one who taught you how to smoke!" I think I laughed out loud out of shock. My mom did not laugh. At all. Oh man, Nicole!
We may have caused some mischief around town, I was beginning to realize I liked leaving my shy self behind. The most notorious activity (except for one I better not mention too specifically, having to do with a pumpkin, doughnuts, and Vaseline) I engaged in was hanging out of the sunroof of Nicole's sweet blue Honda Prelude holding a dozen eggs in my hand, firing them off like a machine gunner at our friends Chad & John, going down Emmet St past where JPJ is now. One of them was trying to roll up his window & I think my last egg barely made it through -- Victory! Granted, this did have some repercussions later that night involving my parents house (eggs & toilet paper, anyone?), which I got mad about because -- it's my parents, get revenge on me! I guess we called it even & I have another story of "reconciliation" 20 years later in my hospital room about that. Too funny.
When we met up so many years later, I was happy to know her again, she had married, had a daughter, and was very successful. She really thought I should go back to school, and a few times was like, "Pitts, you back in school yet, what are you doing about that? I've always felt like she was one of my biggest fans.
Of course she was right there when I started to let people know about my tumor. Checking in and then setting up a visit since she would be driving from northern VA. (She still checks in every other day.) Nicole showed up with a wonderful bag of goodies. Michele was with her (entry forthcoming!). After she left I opened up a bright red box with a white bow & it was a wine colored scarf with magical hot air balloons on it from Talbot's. My goodness. Of course I cried. She later told me it had reminded her of UP, which I had watched the day after my diagnosis with my family and bawled at its emotion and beauty. (Bad idea, should have waited until after my surgery for that movie! So weepy I was!)
I can't remember that much of the visit unfortunately, I don't know if I had just gotten a Dilantin injection, or if I was just beat. Their company did make a difference and I was comforted by the fact they had made the trip into town. I do remember they teased me about the guy, Dave, doing vitals. "Of course Cathy would get the guy with the tattoos! Big surprise!" He was cute, like a young Michael Madsen, but I definitely must have been out of it because I always ask people about their tattoos, the artist who did them, and I missed asking him. I also remember Nicole's story of scuba diving in the Galapagos. Hanging on to a huge mass of barnacles, peeking over a little ridge, watching as hundreds of hammerhead sharks appeared out of the darkness. Nicole's cool like that -- and I love her for it! She has been so dedicated to whatever she's taken on, beginning with paying for college herself, working her way up, scuba diving around the globe, and now being a mother. She's done things in her life I could only imagine.
Even though Nicole & Michele visited together, I don't want this to be too long for any readers, so I'll give Michele her own entry too.
Monday, March 15, 2010
The Sandridge Clan
For a time, it was like a second "CHS Black Knight Class of 1989 Reunion" at the hospital. I had known my old friend Kelly was dealing with her dad's recent lung cancer surgery, but I had no idea he was back in the hospital with some complications. Imagine my surprise when her mom Doris walked in to say "hello" to me in the NICU. Perpetually sunny, and like a second mom, I had not seen her in person in 20 years probably, well, except for a minute at the Amtrak station restaurant in C-ville when we were visiting from Montana. (Sorry, with me you get all the details right?)
I had met Kelly in 9th grade but we got close in 10th. Somehow, around that time we ended up as managers for the boys lacrosse team and would spend afternoons handing out equipment, water bottles, and drooling over the two players we had crushes on (~Rob!~Paul!~*sigh*). I gotta say, lacrosse players have, and will always have, the best legs. I even got lacrosse sticks on my class ring, something I so regret. Mainly because the lacrosse team meant so little in the big picture, and I barely even said "hi" to this guy.
We were super close, but like all teenage girl friendships, which can border on obsessive if one of you has no boyfriend and low self-esteem (me!), it had its share of drama. We went off to Virginia Tech and drifted apart, she got through and graduated on time, I was a metalhead-smoker who flunked out after the first year.
When we finally reconnected, we had a mini-reunion in Lynchburg with 2 other ladies you'll eventually meet, Michele and Laura. It was hysterical because one of the things we talked about the most, which we never knew about each other, was our love of the 80s era UVA basketball team. Guys are always completely shocked, but we know all the names (Lee Raker, Jeff Lamp, Jimmy Miller, Ralph Sampson, you get the picture). It was a cute team.
What's important about seeing Kelly is that I had effectively ended the friendship in a rather rude way, and she forgave me for it without hesitation. She didn't care. We were friends again after all this time and it was a huge relief. I had been carrying it with me and it was heavy. She was over it a long time ago. She's engaged, loves her job marketing for Goodwill across the region, has a great son and step-son. I'm so glad she's happy.
So anyway, practically the whole family came to see me. Kelly, her awesome son Andrew (really, Kelly obviously is a great mom, I love him!), her big brother Bryan, who I used to spend time with after I flunked out of Tech. He reminded me: "Remember when we used to go running? Around the CHS track?". I didn't really -- why the heck did we do that, I was a smoker! We saw movies back then and talked about music. It was great to see Bryan again, he's a steady guy and just how I remember. He also showed me a cool app on his iPhone (iTouch?) where you can mess with people's faces by swiping the screen.
Kel's mom visited me a few times and what really touched me was when she came down with her husband, Merle. Here was a man, in the hospital for his own health problems, who actually took the time and effort to come see me. It was so nice to experience that. He couldn't stay long but the fact that I got to see him I will always remember. Doris later made a comment about our shared sense of fashion -- the hospital gown. So flattering those things are.
I had met Kelly in 9th grade but we got close in 10th. Somehow, around that time we ended up as managers for the boys lacrosse team and would spend afternoons handing out equipment, water bottles, and drooling over the two players we had crushes on (~Rob!~Paul!~*sigh*). I gotta say, lacrosse players have, and will always have, the best legs. I even got lacrosse sticks on my class ring, something I so regret. Mainly because the lacrosse team meant so little in the big picture, and I barely even said "hi" to this guy.
We were super close, but like all teenage girl friendships, which can border on obsessive if one of you has no boyfriend and low self-esteem (me!), it had its share of drama. We went off to Virginia Tech and drifted apart, she got through and graduated on time, I was a metalhead-smoker who flunked out after the first year.
When we finally reconnected, we had a mini-reunion in Lynchburg with 2 other ladies you'll eventually meet, Michele and Laura. It was hysterical because one of the things we talked about the most, which we never knew about each other, was our love of the 80s era UVA basketball team. Guys are always completely shocked, but we know all the names (Lee Raker, Jeff Lamp, Jimmy Miller, Ralph Sampson, you get the picture). It was a cute team.
What's important about seeing Kelly is that I had effectively ended the friendship in a rather rude way, and she forgave me for it without hesitation. She didn't care. We were friends again after all this time and it was a huge relief. I had been carrying it with me and it was heavy. She was over it a long time ago. She's engaged, loves her job marketing for Goodwill across the region, has a great son and step-son. I'm so glad she's happy.
So anyway, practically the whole family came to see me. Kelly, her awesome son Andrew (really, Kelly obviously is a great mom, I love him!), her big brother Bryan, who I used to spend time with after I flunked out of Tech. He reminded me: "Remember when we used to go running? Around the CHS track?". I didn't really -- why the heck did we do that, I was a smoker! We saw movies back then and talked about music. It was great to see Bryan again, he's a steady guy and just how I remember. He also showed me a cool app on his iPhone (iTouch?) where you can mess with people's faces by swiping the screen.
Kel's mom visited me a few times and what really touched me was when she came down with her husband, Merle. Here was a man, in the hospital for his own health problems, who actually took the time and effort to come see me. It was so nice to experience that. He couldn't stay long but the fact that I got to see him I will always remember. Doris later made a comment about our shared sense of fashion -- the hospital gown. So flattering those things are.
B.A. (Bad Attitude) Baracus
Oh, some mornings I do just want to be my old self. I know I had this change in attitude, and it's still with me, but reality is always present. Household bills, pervy notes to my daughter from her seatmate on the bus (got that taken care of this morning, thanks Ethan!), the neighbor's landscaper who was supposed to wait a MONTH at least before driving through our yard (it's swampy from the rain) to pick up his refuse, but drove through today, leaving foot deep muddy ruts and may possibly be stuck as I type. As I mentioned on Facebook, the horrible Billy Corgan article in Rolling Stone. What happened? He was always a jerk but the music was good, so it didn't matter. He is so lost right now it was hard to read. You like to be inspired by people, especially those who create, but what a dud.
I gotta stay strong! This stuff can still bring me down a bit, but the important part is not hanging on to it. I told Ethan the other night after a disagreement that I would never bring it up again. (WHAT? I'm the champion of grudges!) But I need to resolve things quickly (as Lt. Gorman would say "smooth and by the numbers") and then just forget it.
I did have a minor breakdown a few nights ago, and cried for a long time. Sobbed. It wasn't therapeutic, but it had to happen. It's all part of facing the past, present, and future. I try to stay in the present as much as possible, especially with my daughters -- their childhood is really so short -- so when I'm there I'm there. Nothing matters except what we're doing. Every once in a while though I'll lose that focus, and that's when I get in trouble. This morning I said to Ethan "I just want to me normal again, I'm tired of being so slow." But what I should have been thinking is "I need to do my leg exercises today so I won't be so slow". Right? Ugh. Self-help meditations have always been so corny to me.
Last week in C-ville we ran into Dr. DuMont (neuroradiologist miracle worker) who said "You may be a little surprised at how slow your recovery may be". I need to consider that and do what I can to speed it along instead of just sitting and feeling sorry for myself.
And just for fun:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/B._A._Baracus
I gotta stay strong! This stuff can still bring me down a bit, but the important part is not hanging on to it. I told Ethan the other night after a disagreement that I would never bring it up again. (WHAT? I'm the champion of grudges!) But I need to resolve things quickly (as Lt. Gorman would say "smooth and by the numbers") and then just forget it.
I did have a minor breakdown a few nights ago, and cried for a long time. Sobbed. It wasn't therapeutic, but it had to happen. It's all part of facing the past, present, and future. I try to stay in the present as much as possible, especially with my daughters -- their childhood is really so short -- so when I'm there I'm there. Nothing matters except what we're doing. Every once in a while though I'll lose that focus, and that's when I get in trouble. This morning I said to Ethan "I just want to me normal again, I'm tired of being so slow." But what I should have been thinking is "I need to do my leg exercises today so I won't be so slow". Right? Ugh. Self-help meditations have always been so corny to me.
Last week in C-ville we ran into Dr. DuMont (neuroradiologist miracle worker) who said "You may be a little surprised at how slow your recovery may be". I need to consider that and do what I can to speed it along instead of just sitting and feeling sorry for myself.
And just for fun:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/B._A._Baracus
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Leslie and Beverly
I worked at the Charlottesville Barnes & Noble from 1997-2000, and then Ethan & I moved out to Missoula, MT for 7 years. It was one of my favorite places to work, and still is (worked at the MT one and am now at L'burg). It was at the C-ville store I met Beverly, who managed the receiving department. She was slight, with black hair, black combat boots, black everything. I was on the sales floor but eventually weaseled my way back to receiving. I believe it was an experience with a cruel and possibly senile customer (I had to ask a manager to take over so I could run to the back to cry) that caused me to ask for a change of jobs at the store. (I just cry at everything don't I? But this woman was mean.)
Beverly & I shared a love of everything 90s (do I hear groans?). We brought in cds everyday to help us get into that receiving rhythm and unpack and sort, trying to get to zero box count for our manager Mitch. The Chemical Brothers, Massive Attack, Rob Zombie, Nirvana, Tool -- you get the idea. I think the only thing I didn't like was her cassette of the band Sea Hag. We were still Alternative Nation gals. Tattooed gals. I remember sitting with her for hours while this guy Flash(?) tattooed a Celtic band on her arm. It's funny he was named Flash because he was painfully slow. Really, we were there, like, 6 hours. Leslie was her sister who would come into the store and visit. Leslie was not into all black and I remember her as a gentle spirit, with a thing for Ed Kowalcyzk of the band Live, and she had named a kitten Lakini after one of their songs. I remember thinking they were complete opposites but they were very close, and very funny. They were/are extremely close to their family and very sentimental about their dad, who I met and loved as well.
I was barely in touch with Beverly when we were in Montana, and not in touch with Leslie at all. I saw Beverly once when we flew back with an infant Josie. I had stopped by the B&N once we moved back to VA in 2007 but kept missing her. I knew she had helped manage a farm with her boyfriend Chris, and when that ended had gone back to B&N. I knew that they had bought a piece of land in Madison. Luckily, Leslie was on Facebook, and I caught up with her in the past year or so and she told Beverly about my health "crisis". I'm not sure what else to call it.
Still, when they walked into my room at the hospital I couldn't believe it. I mean, I hadn't been a very good friend to either one through the years. I actually hadn't seen Beverly in 7 years, and Leslie in 10! Beverly brought me her favorite graphic novel (I could always count on her for the cool stuff) House of Mystery. We caught up, Leslie told me about her job working with special needs kids (the most perfect job ever for someone like Leslie, she's so friendly and patient), and Beverly and I took no time blabbing about the last few years. She told me about her Subaru and we commiserated over head gasket problems (there had been a recall, or they would cover the repair, but the time limit was up for Bev's car). It was awesome seeing those sisters. It's another example of people just appearing and coming back into your life when you most need them. (This theme will continue as I talk about more great people.) I am definitely a better person because of it.
Beverly & I shared a love of everything 90s (do I hear groans?). We brought in cds everyday to help us get into that receiving rhythm and unpack and sort, trying to get to zero box count for our manager Mitch. The Chemical Brothers, Massive Attack, Rob Zombie, Nirvana, Tool -- you get the idea. I think the only thing I didn't like was her cassette of the band Sea Hag. We were still Alternative Nation gals. Tattooed gals. I remember sitting with her for hours while this guy Flash(?) tattooed a Celtic band on her arm. It's funny he was named Flash because he was painfully slow. Really, we were there, like, 6 hours. Leslie was her sister who would come into the store and visit. Leslie was not into all black and I remember her as a gentle spirit, with a thing for Ed Kowalcyzk of the band Live, and she had named a kitten Lakini after one of their songs. I remember thinking they were complete opposites but they were very close, and very funny. They were/are extremely close to their family and very sentimental about their dad, who I met and loved as well.
I was barely in touch with Beverly when we were in Montana, and not in touch with Leslie at all. I saw Beverly once when we flew back with an infant Josie. I had stopped by the B&N once we moved back to VA in 2007 but kept missing her. I knew she had helped manage a farm with her boyfriend Chris, and when that ended had gone back to B&N. I knew that they had bought a piece of land in Madison. Luckily, Leslie was on Facebook, and I caught up with her in the past year or so and she told Beverly about my health "crisis". I'm not sure what else to call it.
Still, when they walked into my room at the hospital I couldn't believe it. I mean, I hadn't been a very good friend to either one through the years. I actually hadn't seen Beverly in 7 years, and Leslie in 10! Beverly brought me her favorite graphic novel (I could always count on her for the cool stuff) House of Mystery. We caught up, Leslie told me about her job working with special needs kids (the most perfect job ever for someone like Leslie, she's so friendly and patient), and Beverly and I took no time blabbing about the last few years. She told me about her Subaru and we commiserated over head gasket problems (there had been a recall, or they would cover the repair, but the time limit was up for Bev's car). It was awesome seeing those sisters. It's another example of people just appearing and coming back into your life when you most need them. (This theme will continue as I talk about more great people.) I am definitely a better person because of it.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Another visitor to meet: Leah!
I met Leah in 7th grade at Buford Middle School. She sat next to me in Mrs. Evans "Language Arts" class. I don't exactly remember how it came up (except for the fact that it was ALL 12 year old girls talked about), but we shared a love for Duran Duran. Music, buttons, posters...it was a competition. Who had what D2 merchandise no one had ever seen before? Who had stuff no one else could get? I remember thinking Leah had won because she went to freakin' Ireland and scored some stuff. But she brought some back for me as well, which I treasured with all my heart and still have in my parents attic.
Her mom is Irish and I was so fascinated by her accent. I thought Leah was so lucky to have a connection to a foreign country. Her dad was part of the JAG School at UVA and I had no experience around anyone from the military (in other words, he scared me). I guess we had a typical middle school friendship, talking too much in class, disagreements where you'd hang up on each other (what could these fights have been about? I have no idea), sleepovers and movies. The strongest memory, besides her laugh, was the day in 8th grade homeroom when she said: "Well, Celeste isn't the only one moving this summer." I cried. I think some kids stared at me and Leah probably told me to stop crying. Her and Celeste disappeared and I went off to Charlottesville High School a very shy, buck-toothed girl (braces in 9th grade, thank God). Luckily I was in the band, so I wasn't completely isolated!
We wrote to each other through high school and some of college. Her life was way more fun than mine. I actually told her recently I still have her letters & threatened to show them to her teenage daughter (heh heh). At some point, we lost touch. Who knows exactly how that happens, it may have been when she was in the Air Force, in Germany, probably. She appeared in Charlottesville in the late 90s , divorced and with a sweet curly blonde named Deirdre, who was 4. I was working at Barnes & Noble, living with Ethan, unmarried, no kids. It was a strange visit -- she was about to move near Boston (hotel management?). She was a mom, and I couldn't relate. I didn't think I even liked kids, Deirdre watched Barney on our tv, which I could barely stomach. Recently Leah said she was in a bad place during that visit, and we talked about how weird it was. Different places, different people.
AHH, but the miracle of Facebook! And then to find Leah in Crozet, VA of all places when we moved back east in 2007. The funny thing is, I always said we'd get together, but we never did, just did the Facebook comment thing. How lame! I found all sorts of old friends and then never really even tried to see them. I just always have had this complex (since a 5th grade drama) about whether or not people really liked me. Mark Cornick, of all people (some of you know him) was the one who told me I needed to let it go, and I pretty much took his advice.
So, when this whole tumor thing happened, Leah was right there. I was so comforted by her, and I wanted to hear what her story was, after all these years. She was with me the morning of the embolization, holding my hand during a seizure at Hotcakes. She told me she had ordered me a plush brain for me to play with in the hospital (ewww, but it's actually kind of adorable). She waited through the NICU nurses shift change (nearly an hour of the leaving nurses updating the arriving nurses) and saw me, bringing a bunch of gauze for a "turban party". We never got to that, damn it -- but I had mine on! She brought me an Irish Claddagh, which I've always wanted. She came with her teenage daughter Deirdre a few times, who is such a bright spirit and has Leah's humor. They were crackin' me up and it really helped my spirits, so much. To be apart for so long, and to have someone just show up to take care of you and to make sure you are okay, that's what I've been experiencing through all of this. I love you Leah!
Her mom is Irish and I was so fascinated by her accent. I thought Leah was so lucky to have a connection to a foreign country. Her dad was part of the JAG School at UVA and I had no experience around anyone from the military (in other words, he scared me). I guess we had a typical middle school friendship, talking too much in class, disagreements where you'd hang up on each other (what could these fights have been about? I have no idea), sleepovers and movies. The strongest memory, besides her laugh, was the day in 8th grade homeroom when she said: "Well, Celeste isn't the only one moving this summer." I cried. I think some kids stared at me and Leah probably told me to stop crying. Her and Celeste disappeared and I went off to Charlottesville High School a very shy, buck-toothed girl (braces in 9th grade, thank God). Luckily I was in the band, so I wasn't completely isolated!
We wrote to each other through high school and some of college. Her life was way more fun than mine. I actually told her recently I still have her letters & threatened to show them to her teenage daughter (heh heh). At some point, we lost touch. Who knows exactly how that happens, it may have been when she was in the Air Force, in Germany, probably. She appeared in Charlottesville in the late 90s , divorced and with a sweet curly blonde named Deirdre, who was 4. I was working at Barnes & Noble, living with Ethan, unmarried, no kids. It was a strange visit -- she was about to move near Boston (hotel management?). She was a mom, and I couldn't relate. I didn't think I even liked kids, Deirdre watched Barney on our tv, which I could barely stomach. Recently Leah said she was in a bad place during that visit, and we talked about how weird it was. Different places, different people.
AHH, but the miracle of Facebook! And then to find Leah in Crozet, VA of all places when we moved back east in 2007. The funny thing is, I always said we'd get together, but we never did, just did the Facebook comment thing. How lame! I found all sorts of old friends and then never really even tried to see them. I just always have had this complex (since a 5th grade drama) about whether or not people really liked me. Mark Cornick, of all people (some of you know him) was the one who told me I needed to let it go, and I pretty much took his advice.
So, when this whole tumor thing happened, Leah was right there. I was so comforted by her, and I wanted to hear what her story was, after all these years. She was with me the morning of the embolization, holding my hand during a seizure at Hotcakes. She told me she had ordered me a plush brain for me to play with in the hospital (ewww, but it's actually kind of adorable). She waited through the NICU nurses shift change (nearly an hour of the leaving nurses updating the arriving nurses) and saw me, bringing a bunch of gauze for a "turban party". We never got to that, damn it -- but I had mine on! She brought me an Irish Claddagh, which I've always wanted. She came with her teenage daughter Deirdre a few times, who is such a bright spirit and has Leah's humor. They were crackin' me up and it really helped my spirits, so much. To be apart for so long, and to have someone just show up to take care of you and to make sure you are okay, that's what I've been experiencing through all of this. I love you Leah!
Friday, March 12, 2010
Rock n' Rollas (and bagels)
I had some great visitors at the hospital. It's funny because at first I didn't even want my parents to see me, let alone people from high school or places I worked at in Charlottesville. I'm so glad I lightened up because the hospital is indeed a lonely place. I told Ethan one day I really needed him to show up at the time he specified instead of later because I wanted someone to walk in my room who I actually knew. I told him: "you know all I do is watch the clock and when 9am comes and goes I just feel forgotten, except by doctors, residents, interns, and fellows". But don't get me wrong, Ethan was there for me, ten-fold after that, bringing wonderful coffee from Higher Grounds (our fave place when we met, which had a stand in the hospital -- I hadn't had a Black Love in 10 years!) and spending time sitting with me. Sometimes he would stay past midnight, after watching Olympics or reading some of the Patti Smith book to me.
Some of my first visitors were a blast from the past. I met Pete and Lex 20 years ago, I can hardly even believe it as I type. I was lucky enough to score a job at Bodo's Bagels in 1990, after I flunked out of Virginia Tech (uh, the first time). Bodo's was pretty much where every young person wanted to work. As a customer, it seemed like its own secret club, the employees were always having fun, and it paid really well for a food service job. At the time, there was one location, now there are three. The owner would never franchise it outside of C-ville (quality control), even though he was probably asked daily by businessmen. It was a smooth running money-making machine and still is (we eat there every time we're in town). Even when the line is out the door, you get through in less than 5 minutes.
Pete was one of my managers, super friendly, funny, a rock n' roller (bass player) but clearly in command. I reconnected with him on Facebook a year or two ago and he is still amazingly hip, writing screenplays, going to concerts (every month it seems, I'm so jealous), reviewing movies, talking about music. I mean, I just don't know anyone else so culturally literate. I try, but Pete's got it.
Lex was one of my idols. She had, like 13 hoops in each ear (if I remember correctly) and adored The Beastie Boys. She knew the words to every song. She dyed her bangs with Kool-Aid. She kept a safety pin on her socks so she could pin them together as they went in the washer, which I thought was brilliant. She loved all animals and had a horse, and kept a Dr. Pepper on her nightstand for when she woke up. We went to the first Lollapalooza together in 1991 and at some point I passed out (sun poisoning) near the port-a-potties (indeed). I'm not sure if she did. Luckily I was able to sit on a chair for Jane's Addiction, red and dehydrated. I had the worst blisters ever on my shoulders a week later, but -- that was when I saw The Rollins Band perform & have loved Henry Rollins ever since (though not any of his music since The End of Silence). Lex & I went up to the original 9:30 club in 1992 to see Henry and an unknown band named Tool opened up for him, promoting their EP Opiate. That changed my life too. I remember this friendly Hare Krishna named Robin seemed to be a little sweet on Lex, but we lost track of him. Lex was tough, as soon as Henry jumped on stage she moved right up front (the stage was probably knee-high), feet planted and elbows out. The girl knew how to defend herself in the pit. She actually got sweat on by Henry I was so envious! Me, on the other hand, got totally pushed to the back, and about halfway through the show, had to go downstairs and watch it on the closed-circuit television (wimpy, wimpy, wimpy). I'm still ashamed. I want to say we also saw Fishbone together at Trax in C-ville.
I did work with Pete again when I went back to Bodo's in 1995 (after actually getting expelled from Tech) and met Ethan, but I lost Lex until Facebook brought us back together recently. To finally get to the point of this whole story, I was in the NICU when I saw 2 people outside in the hall. I didn't know who they were at first & I think I was getting moved to a chair to sit up for a while. I must have looked ragged. The guy came closer...PETE! Then the woman...LEX! Oh my God! Lex had a Bodo's bag with my favorite bagel (I keep it a secret but it's a cinnamon-raisin with plain cream cheese and bacon). I couldn't believe it, that they had gotten in touch with each other and we're actually here in my room. It was so nice to see them, tell goofy stories about "the old days" and about what we're doing now. It meant so much to me. I hope to have another Bodo's reunion some other time when we go back to C-ville. What awesome people.
Some of my first visitors were a blast from the past. I met Pete and Lex 20 years ago, I can hardly even believe it as I type. I was lucky enough to score a job at Bodo's Bagels in 1990, after I flunked out of Virginia Tech (uh, the first time). Bodo's was pretty much where every young person wanted to work. As a customer, it seemed like its own secret club, the employees were always having fun, and it paid really well for a food service job. At the time, there was one location, now there are three. The owner would never franchise it outside of C-ville (quality control), even though he was probably asked daily by businessmen. It was a smooth running money-making machine and still is (we eat there every time we're in town). Even when the line is out the door, you get through in less than 5 minutes.
Pete was one of my managers, super friendly, funny, a rock n' roller (bass player) but clearly in command. I reconnected with him on Facebook a year or two ago and he is still amazingly hip, writing screenplays, going to concerts (every month it seems, I'm so jealous), reviewing movies, talking about music. I mean, I just don't know anyone else so culturally literate. I try, but Pete's got it.
Lex was one of my idols. She had, like 13 hoops in each ear (if I remember correctly) and adored The Beastie Boys. She knew the words to every song. She dyed her bangs with Kool-Aid. She kept a safety pin on her socks so she could pin them together as they went in the washer, which I thought was brilliant. She loved all animals and had a horse, and kept a Dr. Pepper on her nightstand for when she woke up. We went to the first Lollapalooza together in 1991 and at some point I passed out (sun poisoning) near the port-a-potties (indeed). I'm not sure if she did. Luckily I was able to sit on a chair for Jane's Addiction, red and dehydrated. I had the worst blisters ever on my shoulders a week later, but -- that was when I saw The Rollins Band perform & have loved Henry Rollins ever since (though not any of his music since The End of Silence). Lex & I went up to the original 9:30 club in 1992 to see Henry and an unknown band named Tool opened up for him, promoting their EP Opiate. That changed my life too. I remember this friendly Hare Krishna named Robin seemed to be a little sweet on Lex, but we lost track of him. Lex was tough, as soon as Henry jumped on stage she moved right up front (the stage was probably knee-high), feet planted and elbows out. The girl knew how to defend herself in the pit. She actually got sweat on by Henry I was so envious! Me, on the other hand, got totally pushed to the back, and about halfway through the show, had to go downstairs and watch it on the closed-circuit television (wimpy, wimpy, wimpy). I'm still ashamed. I want to say we also saw Fishbone together at Trax in C-ville.
I did work with Pete again when I went back to Bodo's in 1995 (after actually getting expelled from Tech) and met Ethan, but I lost Lex until Facebook brought us back together recently. To finally get to the point of this whole story, I was in the NICU when I saw 2 people outside in the hall. I didn't know who they were at first & I think I was getting moved to a chair to sit up for a while. I must have looked ragged. The guy came closer...PETE! Then the woman...LEX! Oh my God! Lex had a Bodo's bag with my favorite bagel (I keep it a secret but it's a cinnamon-raisin with plain cream cheese and bacon). I couldn't believe it, that they had gotten in touch with each other and we're actually here in my room. It was so nice to see them, tell goofy stories about "the old days" and about what we're doing now. It meant so much to me. I hope to have another Bodo's reunion some other time when we go back to C-ville. What awesome people.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
As my old friend T.S. Eliot would say: "Humility is endless"
I feel like I still have so much to cover from the hospital, but I hope you'll hang in there with me as I kind of go back and forth from past to present. I really want to talk a bit about some of my visitors while I was in "the big house" as my RN friend Kim calls it, but I'll write about today first. Ethan's mom left today and we miss her. It makes us realize that we are just too far away from the northeastern part of the family, but hopefully they'll eventually end up in Carolina part of the year. I was trying to get dressed and had my pants half on when she whooshed in to kiss me goodbye. I said: "I was trying to get my pants on for you first!" But she didn't care and gave me a good squeeze.
I swear, I thought I cried easily before, but ever since surgery, it takes nothing. I'm always crying, sometimes out of gratefulness, sometimes out of some hospital memory. I cried when I got flowers on the porch today from "the barn" (Barnes & Noble co-workers) and a short time later when my friend Barb brought over lasagna with garlic bread AND another dinner of meatball subs. She is amazing! She also brought over her 3 kids plus the 2 she nannies and everyone had a blast (at least until the worst behaved golden, goofy labs from up the hill spotted us and one (Tanner) came bounding over). I swear those huge dogs get out for 5 minutes 3 times a day and that's it. Crazy dogs. The owner is this jerky woman who has no control over them and curses them loud enough so my girls have heard plenty of bad words.. At least the dogs are friendly, right? Or I would have gotten a rifle by now. (Kidding!)
Today was my first occupational/physical therapy appointment. Our insurance covers 30 visits. We went over to VA. Baptist and Ethan & I had the same reaction to being back in a hospital. Dread. We're so through with this, but I gotta do it. Upon walking into the therapy room though, I cheered up -- it's like Romper Room (I'm dating myself, & Ron, a big lollipop just for you!). Or like preschool for adults. All sorts of colorful mats and therabands, and huge rubber balls in primary colors. Board games like Connect Four and Operation. Bells and whistles, wizards behind curtains, and where the schnozberries taste like schnozberries! (for Kimba).
Ellen was the occupational therapist to give me my evaluation. Strength tests, eyesight tests, gripping machines, levels of balance, the three levels of pinching doohickey, and then the cruelest test known to man. The putting pegs in holes box. With my good hand she said I was at 14 seconds, the fastest she had ever measured (thank you! thank you! go big or go home -- woohoo!). Now for the gimpy side. Time seemed to stop. Or at least slow way down. No -- time definitely stopped. I had my left hand on the table trying to pick up a peg...any peg. I just kept pushing them away from me as I was trying to pick one up. My concentration was focused, I probably started to sweat. Just pick one up and put it in the hole Cathy...just one, the rest will come. I tried for so long, I laughed but inside I was so frustrated! Almost, then, nothing. Ethan told me later he was thinking "you got it baby, you got it baby -- oh, you don't. No. Maybe....not. Nope." She eventually had mercy on me but I could not get a single peg in its hole. Ethan said "this is like that box...I finished his sentence: "from Hellraiser". I imagined being tested in front of Pinhead and Chatterbox, failing as they laughed, then damned to hell for all eternity. I told Ellen "get that box away from me!" Otherwise I did pass most of her tests and she will concentrate on my left arm rehab.
The physical therapist was Maureen, and she will be working on strengthening my legs. Though I did not know it, my left leg is significantly weaker than my right. She thinks it is purely from being in bed for so long, not from my surgery. I actually failed most of her tests. She had me walk down a hall, fast, then slow, then fast. Walking while looking up, down, side to side, weaving between green tiles in the floor, stepping over the tiles...noting I dragged my left toe twice (what? how did she catch that?) and stuff like that. She said I was at a high risk to fall down, but that we'd be working on hips, knees, ankles, all of it. It was a revelation to hear that my legs were actually more dangerous than my arm, because I assumed the arm was the main problem.
It was a fun place though, I was the youngest patient by about 30 years, but everyone was in good spirits. I'll be going three times a week and hopefully by the time Ethan goes back to work I can make it up the hill to the girl's bus stop. Otherwise, I may have to ask Mrs. Sharon (the bus driver) to stop at our sidewalk on the way up the hill for a few more weeks.
I swear, I thought I cried easily before, but ever since surgery, it takes nothing. I'm always crying, sometimes out of gratefulness, sometimes out of some hospital memory. I cried when I got flowers on the porch today from "the barn" (Barnes & Noble co-workers) and a short time later when my friend Barb brought over lasagna with garlic bread AND another dinner of meatball subs. She is amazing! She also brought over her 3 kids plus the 2 she nannies and everyone had a blast (at least until the worst behaved golden, goofy labs from up the hill spotted us and one (Tanner) came bounding over). I swear those huge dogs get out for 5 minutes 3 times a day and that's it. Crazy dogs. The owner is this jerky woman who has no control over them and curses them loud enough so my girls have heard plenty of bad words.. At least the dogs are friendly, right? Or I would have gotten a rifle by now. (Kidding!)
Today was my first occupational/physical therapy appointment. Our insurance covers 30 visits. We went over to VA. Baptist and Ethan & I had the same reaction to being back in a hospital. Dread. We're so through with this, but I gotta do it. Upon walking into the therapy room though, I cheered up -- it's like Romper Room (I'm dating myself, & Ron, a big lollipop just for you!). Or like preschool for adults. All sorts of colorful mats and therabands, and huge rubber balls in primary colors. Board games like Connect Four and Operation. Bells and whistles, wizards behind curtains, and where the schnozberries taste like schnozberries! (for Kimba).
Ellen was the occupational therapist to give me my evaluation. Strength tests, eyesight tests, gripping machines, levels of balance, the three levels of pinching doohickey, and then the cruelest test known to man. The putting pegs in holes box. With my good hand she said I was at 14 seconds, the fastest she had ever measured (thank you! thank you! go big or go home -- woohoo!). Now for the gimpy side. Time seemed to stop. Or at least slow way down. No -- time definitely stopped. I had my left hand on the table trying to pick up a peg...any peg. I just kept pushing them away from me as I was trying to pick one up. My concentration was focused, I probably started to sweat. Just pick one up and put it in the hole Cathy...just one, the rest will come. I tried for so long, I laughed but inside I was so frustrated! Almost, then, nothing. Ethan told me later he was thinking "you got it baby, you got it baby -- oh, you don't. No. Maybe....not. Nope." She eventually had mercy on me but I could not get a single peg in its hole. Ethan said "this is like that box...I finished his sentence: "from Hellraiser". I imagined being tested in front of Pinhead and Chatterbox, failing as they laughed, then damned to hell for all eternity. I told Ellen "get that box away from me!" Otherwise I did pass most of her tests and she will concentrate on my left arm rehab.
The physical therapist was Maureen, and she will be working on strengthening my legs. Though I did not know it, my left leg is significantly weaker than my right. She thinks it is purely from being in bed for so long, not from my surgery. I actually failed most of her tests. She had me walk down a hall, fast, then slow, then fast. Walking while looking up, down, side to side, weaving between green tiles in the floor, stepping over the tiles...noting I dragged my left toe twice (what? how did she catch that?) and stuff like that. She said I was at a high risk to fall down, but that we'd be working on hips, knees, ankles, all of it. It was a revelation to hear that my legs were actually more dangerous than my arm, because I assumed the arm was the main problem.
It was a fun place though, I was the youngest patient by about 30 years, but everyone was in good spirits. I'll be going three times a week and hopefully by the time Ethan goes back to work I can make it up the hill to the girl's bus stop. Otherwise, I may have to ask Mrs. Sharon (the bus driver) to stop at our sidewalk on the way up the hill for a few more weeks.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Big Gold Watch
I'm posting this link because I just found it and could not believe what I read. Dr. Shaffrey is just a genius, plain and simple. I was a bit sad to learn I'm just one of about 75 brain tumors he removes a YEAR. I thought I was special! I'm kidding -- I know mine was a bit larger than usual but a resection none the less (though he did tell Ethan it was "exceedingly difficult" to remove). I told Dr. Shaffrey how grateful I was, he said "don't worry about it". Doctors!
http://www.healthsystem.virginia.edu/internet/neurosurgery/faculty/mshaffrey.cfm
http://www.healthsystem.virginia.edu/internet/neurosurgery/faculty/mshaffrey.cfm
Dr. Mohamed Khaled
I swear, EVERY morning at 5 am, Dr. Khaled danced into my room to check on me. He was always light and cheerful, had wonderful cologne, and was so positive. Who was this doctor? And then, he was gone. This morning I was actually awake waiting for him so I could get his picture. He had just told me I was going home at some point that same day. I said: Really?!
Sheeba John, Night RN / Susan Hay IV Team (no pic)
Just a few more pictures before I'm done. Sheeba was my most magical nurse. She came in with this lovely British-Indian accent and immediately started calling me "dear". After a bad night with a younger RN who told me she "Facebooked" all the time (and even showed me her pink Blackberry or whatever) and took 25 minutes to bring me water, Sheeba was the one who left me feeling like someone was actually there for me if I needed to hit the call button (this is very important, especially if you gotta pee). After giving me an injection of Decadron, which is nearly as painful as the Dilantin going in, she noticed that my newest i.v. was looking very bad, and my arm was getting pink. She said in her beautiful accent: "Hmmmm, I do not like this at all my dear, not. at. all. I'm taking this out and putting in a call to the i.v. team. We will get you fixed up my dear, don't worry." She knew exactly how the Dilantin felt going in and related to me her own health history, which I should keep private here on the blog. She did confess she refused the Heparin shots because she hated needles so much (I got 2 shots everyday in the belly to prevent bloodclots, and daily insulin shots in the belly because of the Decadon injections, which basically make you diabetic. (Blood sugar record one night: 349!) I couldn't believe she was a nurse and refused needles! I guess you just never know.
The i.v. team arrived around 1am, and at that hour, if you can't sleep, company is welcome. My roommate had left and no one had taken her place. Susan Hay was a lot different than the i.v. team lady with the huge implants. She looked a bit like Jackie from "Roseanne" and had intense wide brown eyes. At first she had no idea how to find a vein, they were so used up. I mean, it's been 2 weeks and I am still bruised up like a junkie. She worked on the back of my right arm, slowly tapping it in, and it took some time. I told her my story and she told me her daughter had recently been diagnosed with bone cancer and it had metastisized. Her daughter had started chemo but was very scared and maybe taking a little too much Ativan (for nausea) to cope mentally. I would have been too. I told her I was sorry, she left, and I cried for a long time.
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