That pin was a gift on my 50th Birthday. Ten days before my 49th birthday (six years ago today), I had a stroke. If you're a regular reader, you know that. If you're not, you can read about it here, here, and here.
Back to the pin. Of course, it isn't true. There are a lot of people who have survived worse. Right now on my prayer list are a 17 year old student facing 62 more interferon treatments for pediatric bone cancer, another former student with stage 4 melanoma, a 17 year old girl from rival town who had a tumor the size of a baseball removed from her brain last week, and a dear church lady fighting pancreatic cancer. It is true: if we look around we can always find someone who has it worse. (Though six years ago, I'm pretty sure I wasn't thinking that.)
I was/am incredibly lucky, blessed, fortunate.
Still, that pin reminds me daily that I am a survivor. Every day, every year is one more day, one more year that I almost didn't have--and probably don't deserve. I try to remember that.
"We're all terminal. Some of us are just lucky enough to know it."
We arrived home at 8:00 last night. K had picked up Baxter from the kennel and deposited him at home. He was quite happy to see us. In fact, the lady at the kennel told K that she didn't think the kennel life was one Baxter ever wanted to be acquainted with for long. In other words, he is a bit pampered and spoiled at home. You think?? He jumped into my arms for some snuggling when we arrived home. Sheer relief on that little face!
The first half of Spring Break has been wonderful. The last half will be a bit full, too--but all things I am eagerly anticipating: a haircut and pedicure, a niece's play, and a class reunion.
But...I don't want to forget all the great things about this trip:
*The slopes weren't crowded.
*I didn't have to wait in a single lift line.
*There was fresh snow both days. The first day they had about an inch. The second day they had about 3 inches, with more falling as the day progressed.
*Ski trails were frequently empty. It was so peaceful.
*My rental ski boots fit the best of any ski boots I have ever worn. *Ever*Ever*Ever! Amazing. No sore spots. No bruises. (Sometimes I have been downright miserable.)
*I didn't take a single spill. I came close, but always managed to pull it out at the last second! (I guess my balance isn't quite as bad as I thought.)
*Finally, I bought a new pair of Adidas running shoes on the way home. These shoes imitate running barefoot. (No, they don't look like gloves!) We'll see how I feel about them after a couple of runs. (I hate breaking in new shoes!)
The last ski trip was dreadful. This one was absolutely perfect. I feel like someone was looking out for me--I mean, besides the Mr. (He was a good sport to agree to another ski trip, especially since he doesn't ski. He toted lunch, waited patiently for me to arrive at the bottom of the slope, and bought hot chocolate. In other words--he took good care of me. He is the best!!)
"I lift up mine eyes to the hills, from whence cometh my help..." I'm pretty sure He had a hand in how pleasant this trip was, too!
Day #2 of skiing was a bit different. We woke up to snow and clouds.
It snowed off and on all day long. In spite of that, on the first run up the lift I skiied a green bowl that I love. I was one of the first skiers up there. (I can't tell you how many of my runs in the last two days have been in quiet solitude. Someone looking out for me?)
I wasn't the only person at the bowl. In fact, a couple of us exchanged cameras and took pictures for each other.
It was freezing cold and snowing. In fact, snow was blowing pretty good, but it didn't matter. I was skiing! Five years ago I was afraid I would never get to do this again.
And not only could I ski; but I could bike 20+ miles, run a 5K, and tackle almost anything. Marge over at Soeurs Du Jour knows this: Sometimes the curve balls life throws at us-- give us a whole new perspective. And that is a blessing worth celebrating.
To top it off, my little baby sister turned 50 yesterday. To celebrate her birthday and my return to skiing, I drank a lemon drop martini in her honor. (Well, after the whiteout drove me off the mountain! By the way-- I am not a fan of martinis!) Happy Birthday, Sis! Who knew that 50 wouldn't look that bad to me? Every birthday is worth celebrating. Some things I know for sure.
After I talked to Dad to let him know that I was OK--that I had survived skiing, I checked the last thing off my post-stroke bucket list.
You might be asking how I did that? At "Ollie's Pub and Grub" in Frisco I signed a dollar bill. One of the waiters put a tack through the dollar, put a quarter on the other side, folded and soaked the dollar bill, and threw it onto the wooden ceiling. It stuck. When the dollar dries out, the quarter will fall. My dollar will be with all the other dollars-- stuck to the ceiling. The waiter told me that was a way of leaving my mark....
Actually, I can think of about a million other ways I'd like to leave my mark. BUT...there is a dollar that says "Stroke Survivor" on a ceiling of "Ollies." We'll call that good for now!
Even as this is posting, I am headed to Colorado for a ski trip. That makes me the same as quite a few other people. Church youth groups, college coeds, and families head for the slopes during spring break every year.
This is my first ski trip in quite awhile. In fact, five years ago on this very day (March 20, 2006), I was skiing down slope when I had a stroke. An artery in my brain ruptured flooding the lower right cerebellum with blood. It would take 24 hours for them to discover that; yet in that instant, all I knew was that something was really wrong. Since I was still skiing, I had to figure out how to get prone (fall!) and how to get help. (Believe me, they come!)
I spent a week in a Denver hospital, spent several months regaining my sense of balance, and even made a trip to Mayo to determine the cause of the stroke. I missed the entire 4th nine weeks of school. (I wrote more about it here.)
During those first few weeks, I held onto walls when I walked--which I didn't do very often. I felt "carsick" or dizzy most of the time. I would lie in bed and look at the ceiling. I slept. I couldn't watch television (rapidly changing camera angles), couldn't use a computer (eye tracking made me sick, not to mention a flashing cursor), and I couldn't read (again with the eye tracking problem).
I finally figured out that my brain would learn to "re-wire" itself if I took things gradually. I walked inside and finally outside, but only on the Mr.'s arm. I read large print books one page and eventually one chapter at a time. I had a Myspace page created for me to lure me back on the computer.
By the end of that first summer, I could walk by myself for a mile or so. That fall I returned to school. I avoided the halls because all the moving bodies brought back the nausea and dizziness. I didn't make U town's home football games. There were too many people, and I was often claustrophobic--like my perception of the world was off.
Gradually, things started feeling more normal. By late winter, I even attended a few home basketball games and other crowded events in big arenas. The halls of Tiny Town High no longer bothered me.
By the summer of 2007, I began running again and even entered a couple of races. I finally got back on a bicycle. Biking made it look like the world was moving while I moved. It took some time before I could go very far. As soon as I could, I was back to biking 7 to 10 miles--always with the Mr. following closely behind to check my progress or provide a sag wagon. That summer, part of our vacation included a 26 mile bike ride on the KATY Bike Trail.
By '08 I was strong enough to help our town and school recover from a devastating tornado. In the past five years, I have flown on an airplane several times. Only last summer, I went out on a boat for the first time since the stroke.
But there was still one thing that I wanted to try again, and that brings us to today--or rather, tomorrow.
I haven't been on skis since my stroke. I love to ski. I love the smell of the snow, the view, and the fresh air. I don't ski fast. I'm not a daredevil. I just like pushing myself to take new runs and stay upright.
The Mr. has finally consented to two days of skiing. My dad is less than thrilled. The LBB (little big brother) asked me if I was just like my students. "Have you learned nothing??!!" K and L haven't said much. I think they know I can do it.
So this is one last thing to conquer, and then I'll be satisfied that I have recovered. And it has only taken me five years to get to this point. I am a survivor. Tomorrow is a celebration of that. Feel free to picture me on a beautiful snowy slope. I'll be the one in a yellow ski jacket with a great big smile on my face!
There are two links on this post. If you click on the words in green they will take you to previous writings on my stroke..
Future son-in-law, CT, took us out on his fishing boat last night. It is the first time I have been on a boat since my stroke four years ago. Pretty brave of CT and K to give it a shot, eh?!
The stroke in the cerebellum affected my balance and gave me severe motion sickness for months to come. Walking and even biking were a challenge during the first year. As I was moving, the earth seemed to be moving at the same time. It was fairly disconcerting. Eventually I rode on a plane, but I knew boating would end up being the last thing that I would attempt.
CT waited for a fairly still evening before my first return trip to the water. Actually, it wasn't bad at all. I was unsteady on my feet, and trying to move while the boat was moving wasn't pretty. However, no motion sickness or vertigo--which was a relief! I ended the evening with the beginning of a headache, kind of like the early signs of car sickness that I had as a kid. But after two hours on the water, that was it!
At one point, K and I jumped in with life jackets and floated for awhile. CT and the Mr. caught a few fish, so at least CT got a little something out of it, too.
This was our view on the water last night. It doesn't get much better. And that was one more thing I can check off my list of things to accomplish after the stroke. Next up? Snow skiing.
Looking back on this week, it has been a bit of all of the above. I guess that makes me about par. Aren't we all in that boat most of the time?
The Good:
For Teacher Appreciation Day our "boy" principals (I call them that because I could be their mother!) delivered plates with fresh fruit to every teacher in Trailer High, and the local association gave each member a ten dollar bill. (Of course that may be the only raise we get, so I am saving mine!) I also got a great card in the mail from a former student and a sweet note left on my desk from a current student. A very happy Teacher Appreciation Day-- one of the best that I can recall.
The Bad:
I took a fall yesterday on the sidewalk of Trailer High. I have no recollection of why I went down. A few seconds of black out?? I was suddenly on the ground. I had to sit for a bit to clear my head. Students were quick to help me up, run for the principal, and get me back to my room. Another teacher called the Mr. who insisted that I visit the ER.
Because of my stroke history, they ran an EKG, CT scan, and did blood work. All were fine. My low heart rate was the only red flag. (What? They don't think my two miles every other day accounts for the Olympic athlete heartbeat?!) The Dr. in ER also thought he heard a murmur in my left carotid, so he is insisting on further tests today.
On a side note-- my bruises are quite lovely and the laptop I was carrying survived!
The Ugly:
I didn't get to finish To Kill A Mockingbird with my classes yesterday. I am so disappointed. And a sub will be in my classes again today. Hopefully, I will have a chance to review and discuss with them on Monday.
And I worried the Mr. and the girls again. I hate that.
The really ugly would be the bruises and scrapes adorning my body: right ankle, left hip and thigh, scraped knee, and a scraped, bruised, and swollen wrist.
I think I missed the day when they handed out the gracefulness gene!
Four years ago today I had a stroke. (That statement is still a shock to me.) I wrote about it here. Facing my mortality at age 48 taught me a lot.
Here is what I learned:
*Our time here is too short. I learned to say "no" and to avoid the negative and tedious. My time is a precious commodity.
*The Mr. meant it when he agreed to "In Sickness and In Health and Til Death Do Us Part." I don't think he slept for weeks. Worrying became his hobby. No one was taken care of better than I was. (And still am for that matter!)
*People are incredibly good. My colleagues and friends delivered meals for about 3 weeks. Cards arrived daily. I had phone calls and visits from family, friends, and students past and present.
*Recovery requires work. Four years later I am still challenging myself. (Next up: getting back on a boat.)
*There is nothing like a near death experience to make you want to "get your house in order," so to speak.
These are some things I never will forget:
*Our little white cocker spaniel, Kiley, parking herself outside the door of my room. She was "taking care" of me.
*The girls taking a call from a 1990 graduate who had heard about my stroke and wanted to make sure that the Coach and Mrs. E were OK.
*They took another call came from a friend who had divorced and moved away when the girls were little. She said she called to check on me. She'd been gone from my life for so long, I often wondered if she wanted to wipe the dust of Tiny Town off of her forever.
*The University boy who came by one weekend. He apologized because he knew I wasn't ready for guests yet, but he just wanted to see me to make sure I was really OK like people said. He was tired of relying on 3rd hand information.
*Pat's (I wrote about her here.) oldest daughter coming to visit. I confessed I had thought a lot about her mom during this whole nightmare. (It wasn't lost on me that her mom had died of cancer at this exact same age.) I admitted I had worried that my daughters would be dealing with the same thing she had. She said, "God wouldn't do that to us twice." And somehow, I could hear her mom saying that exact same thing.
*The sophomore boy who called one Sunday night while he was working on his English homework for my sub. (I missed the entire 4th nine weeks of school.) He confessed that he wasn't calling for any particular reason. He just missed me at school and needed to hear my voice. That may have been the nicest thing any student has ever said.
K and L were 25 and 23 when this happened. My stroke wasn't easy on them.
K became part caretaker. Her prinicpal let her leave school every afternoon for the first few weeks so that she could take care of me while the Mr. worked afternoons. She cleaned, cooked, and helped the Mr. make "mixed" drinks for my out-of-whack tastebuds. She also helped me wash and dry my hair. She had to use cups to pour water over my head to rinse my hair in the shower-- much like I had done for her at age two. Poor thing.
L was going through a disaster of her own. She was an hour and a half away, but she came home every weekend. I'm not sure she would have if it hadn't been for my stroke. Most of the time she just curled up on the bed beside me and slept. She just needed to be close. Two recoveries were going on at the same time.
I'm pretty sure I'll never know exactly what the girls went through. (Talk about seeing their mom at her absolute weakest!) I do know that the panic in their faces was all it took for me to find the strength not to give up and the will to keep pushing to attempt the difficult. I couldn't fail them. Letting them down was not an option. It still isn't. The first time I heard this song after the stroke, I cried like a baby. It still makes my eyes water.
"In my daughter's eyes I can see the future
A reflection of who I am and what will be
Though she'll grow and someday leave
Maybe raise a family
When I'm gone I hope you'll see
how happy she made me
For I'll be there
In my daughter's eyes" Martina McBride Song- Lyrics by James Slater
Today is my Little Big Brother's Birthday. He is 55. Yep. I'm telling all. He has it coming!
I have two older brothers and a baby sister. We were the two middles. The oldest brother and baby sister live out of state. They are kind on my birthday. The LBB lives an hour away and tortures me with all kinds of "fun" on my birthday. Let me share.
The year I came home to find a message on the machine asking me to speak at the State English Conference on Geoffrey Chaucer because: "There are so few people around any more who actually knew the man."
The year my daughter got a letter alerting her to nursing home care for her elderly parent.
The year he called the school and had the principal put a note in the daily bulletin about the fact that Mrs. E was now eligible for retirement benefits. Students were to be sure to congratulate her on that.
The year I got the message on the answering machine telling me that the State Historical Society was looking for artifacts of earlier civilizations and that they were wondering if they could use my driver's license.
I'm forgetting several. I remember getting an email, but for the life of me can't remember what it was about.
Did I mention that he always enlists help? The messages never come from him. The phone numbers, email address, and envelopes are never from him and always look "official." There are a lot of people who are accomplices. You know who you are!
This past year, his lovely children contributed by posting on my Facebook page. I got things like: I was thinking about you in Western Civ class today when they were talking about ancient civilizations. Or: I was thinking about you in Sociology class today when we were studying Geriatrics, etc. You get the drift.
The only year LBB missed was the year I needed his abuse: the year I had the stroke a week before my birthday. I think he was thinking my aging (and having health problems) wasn't all that funny. On that "crappy" birthday I was hoping that I was going to be around for him to torture for years to come.
OK. I did put big signs all over his town when he turned 50. He had it coming.
Happy 55th LBB. You'll always be older than me, so naaah!!
On March 20th, 2006, I was skiing down a mountain on Spring Break. I looked up to wave at some friends on a lift and my world turned upside down, both figuratively and literally. (No fall, it just happened the moment I looked up.)
Almost 24 hours later, they would determine that I had a stroke of the lower right cerebellum. "You were so lucky," my husband and I heard over and over. Yes, it was close to the brain stem, which would have been fatal. If it had happened in the cerebrum I would have had paralysis, plus speech and memory problems. Instead, I had balance, coordination, and dizziness issues. Did I feel lucky? No, I felt scared, then furious, and finally depressed.
Two months later when no one could tell why this 48 year old nonsmoker had a stroke, we traveled to the Mayo Clinic. I learned that an artery in my brain had dissected or blown to bits. No known cause. No guarantees it wouldn't happen again. "Every day take an adult strength aspirin and (call me in the morning??) get on with the business of living. Besides, none of us gets any guarantees." I regained my equilibrium and found a new perspective. In the business of living, it is easy to lose sight of the fact that our time here is limited and precious.
So on this 3rd anniversary, a glance back at what I wrote a year after the stroke. "Lest I forget..."
Living Deliberately
Wishing the life away
Waiting for the weekend
Not enough time
Too much work
Too little pleasure
When is Christmas vacation?
Spring Break?
How long until school is out?
Time filled with too much television
Too little energy
Putting things off
Asleep at the wheel of my days
Walking laps on the treadmill of life
Putting in my time with little thought
A life that saps more energy than it gives
And then…
STROKE—a near miss for this 48 year old
And suddenly: life is finite and fragile
Now...
Living Deliberately
Living Consciously
Cutting out the unnecessary
Making the mundane manageable
Finding fun in the "need to dos"
Spending more time doing what I love
Spending more time with those I love
Learning to say no
Not allowing my moments manipulated
Walking away from the tedious, the negative
Enjoying, laughing, listening, loving
Not allowing apathy or laziness to determine how the seconds tick off
Choosing how to fill my moments
Being present
Appreciating the gift of 50 years of life
So, when people say "You've changed"
Damn straight I have.
No guarantees in this life
Whether 15 or 48
This is "Take No Prisoners" living
Making my minutes count
For as long as I can
I want no regrets
In how I spent
The time I was given
