Brain surgery and other scary things.

A reminder to live fully.

A reminder to live fully.

A few years ago I had brain surgery. The right branch of my carotid artery had an aneurysm, big enough to need surgery. I am alive because I have a clip (I call it a paper clip) on my artery.  The MRI also found a second aneurysm on the left branch of my carotid artery. Since then it has been checked regularly with an angiogram. I can’t have another MRI as the magnetism could  pull the clip out, or at least dislodge it. Doesn’t bear thinking about does it?

These were found by accident. I had no symptoms, but had complained to my doctor about my ear- feeling blocked,  giddiness, pain when I flew… it was probably sinus, but just to be sure…The ear was fine, but…I had an aneurysm. MRI, visit to a brain surgeon…too big to ignore, must be operated on.

Found by accident? Or one of the many blessings and miracles of my life?

Tantrum from me. Definitely did not want brain surgery. Handouts from the hospital- skull with piece cut out pictured on front. Threw it away, without reading. No one was going to do that to me.

great scar, shame about the hair.

Date set. The ninth of July. Uh oh. My most auspicious date, my day of celebrating my re-birth. How could this be anything but positive? Coloured my hair plum. After all, it was going to be shaved so I could experiment. A nasty colour, for me.

Brain surgery. It was too big to get my mind around. An aneurysm. It was too scary to contemplate, so I didn’t. The reaction of other people surprised me. They seemed to think this was significant, urgent, frightening… It wasn’t until afterwards I began to hear the stories: the young woman who had died on my local beach- an aneurysm had burst; the man who was now paralysed down one side, an aneurysm had bled…I had protected myself by closing my eyes to the reality.

Brain surgery. Yes, but they weren’t really operating on my brain were they, only an artery. Afterwards, checks every hour. What’s your name? What’s the date? (Who knows? I’ve had an operation, been in Intensive Care.) Where are you? Count to ten. Most questions I could answer, although I did ask them to come up with something different, I was getting bored with the same ones.

Yes. yet another cat picture! But, oh how he sleeps.

Yes. yet another cat picture! But, oh how he sleeps.

There were effects. My sleeping was destroyed, until it reached crisis point and I had to demand extreme help. My short term memory is affected. But…I am alive. My brain still works, quite well really. I like it…a lot. And I truly value it… greatly. In fact, I love and cherish it.

And I still have an aneurysm. A small one, but an aneurysm. I’m always aware of it, ticking away up there in my head. And now I know how serious that is. I have been told by the psychiatrist who treated me during the sleep crisis, that the brain suffers some damage as soon as it is exposed to oxygen. So mine has suffered some damage already. I do not want to run the risk a second time. I do not want to experience another sleep crisis. I know why sleep deprivation is a torture, I’ve lived it.

But, nor do I want to run the risk of the aneurysm bleeding or bursting. Neither have good outcomes- death or incapacity. So I have regular angiograms and trust the results, trust that while it’s small it’s harmless.

On Friday I had an angiogram, hence this post. I am left confused by the results. It showed no aneurysm. I ask “Do arteries heal themselves?”  “Has it disappeared?”  “Is this the result of a simple life with little stress?” “Can I celebrate or has there been a mistake?” I wait to hear from my brain surgeon.

The gift of life.

The gift of life.

Meanwhile I shall live this day- fully, richly, moment by moment, because I have experienced how fragile life is. I have no excuse but to treasure each moment I have.

 

 

 

 

Nighttime Rituals.

Writing101. Daily prompt.

More and more of us go to bed too late because of sleep procrastination. What are the nighttime rituals that keep you up before finally dozing off?

“Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing,

Beloved from pole to pole!”

Yes. yet another cat picture! But, oh how he sleeps.

Yes. yet another cat picture! But, oh how he sleeps.

Coleridge’s Ancient Mariner had it right. Sleep, it is a blessed thing. Without it, it’s difficult to function, without it I stumble around in a haze of exhaustion, my constant focus on staying awake and making it through the day.  I look back on my life now and wonder how I ever survived. How did I stay in jobs? How did I stay sane? Why didn’t I get help?

What’s the response if you mention you can’t sleep? For me, there were several:

You just need to pull yourself together. Anyone can sleep if she only tries. It’s all in your mind. Just tell yourself you will sleep, and of course you will. It’s not nearly as bad as you think…stop whinging, pull yourself together…

I’ve heard them all. So I lived with it. Then one morning, driving to work (late as usual), I heard a specialist in sleep disorders interviewed. It was a moment of revelation- he described me! I had a sleep disorder, therefore I could get help.

Imagine the power of that moment, the sense of liberation I felt.

I saw a hypnotherapist. I slept.

I shall never forget the next day. I spent it in wonder, marveling at how I felt. If I felt like this, I could accomplish anything. Fly to the moon! Climb Mt Everest! No limits! Maybe those people who slept well, always felt like this?

It wasn’t permanent. I struggled on. Naturally a night person, I went to bed late, took hours to go to sleep and stumbled out of bed, jet-lagged, every morning. I rarely did the things I knew might help me sleep.

Then, a few years ago… brain surgery. My sleep was destroyed. I persevered and endured and heard stories of others whose sleep had been destroyed following brain surgery.

Until… crisis. I could endure not one minute longer.

An emergency visit to the doctor I had recently found ( a miracle in itself) followed, a demand to be hospitalized and sedated and insistence it happen that day. He took the necessary steps. I was sedated that day and hospitalized the next. (And my undying gratitude to my wonderful friend who stood steadfastly by me through this time- thank you Brian. )

So, nighttime rituals? routines? Yes! I have evening routines. I’ve learnt their importance.

  • No television, no phone calls, no computer after a particular time;
  • mindfulness practice and walking a few hours before bedtime;
  • the same bedtime every night and the bedroom only for sleeping and loving;
  • And the other usual routines- showering, teeth cleaning etc…. and for me attending to the needs of a stoma.

I’m not that good at sticking to these routines, even though I know the consequences of neglecting them.

And yes, I have rituals. I find the routine of bedtime soothing and settling, but the rituals lift it to being somehow hallowed.

Let your light so shine. A candle, shining in darkness.

Let your light so shine.
A candle, shining in darkness.

My rituals?

  • Settling; becoming aware of my posture; taking some time to focus on my breath;
  • Lighting a candle and and placing flowers on my small table if I have them;
  • Remembering those I love; practising a loving-kindness meditation;
  • And reflecting on the day with gratitude. There is always something for which to be grateful.

Do I always do this? I confess that I don’t. I have no excuse and I choose not to beat myself up about it. I know some of the habits that will disrupt the flow – I must tape any TV programs I want to watch and it’s better if I don’t have a novel waiting to be read. I seem to have little discipline.

And evening shadows fall across the sky.

And evening shadows fall across the sky.

Writing this has reminded me of the beauty of my simple evening. Tonight I will start my routines early and I will finish the day with candles, beauty, quietness and a grateful heart.

 

 

 

Gone with the windfall.

Writing101. Daily prompt.

You just inherited $1,000,000 from an aunt you didn’t even know existed. What’s the first thing you would buy (or otherwise use the money for)?

I have whiled away many an hour dreaming about what I would do if I won the Lottery or had an unexpected windfall. It’s a splendid way to pass the time during a long trip. I dream of having a community, of being able to offer a home to people who need one. Land with cabins built on it? Or land sub-divided into villas?  There must be gardens and it must be beautiful. The possibilities are almost endless.

A corner offering sanctuary.

A corner offering sanctuary.

There have been times in my life when I have needed sanctuary, somewhere to give me space to regroup and heal, but I’ve had to pay the rent and there was nowhere to go. How wonderful it would be to be able to offer such a place. I have read about a woman, a breast cancer survivor herself, who established a healing centre for women to come and heal, both physically and spiritually.

Before I bought this house I rented a flat in accommodation linked to my work. There were two flats, each with a yard, and a house in this group. The house and the flats faced onto a large, shared area. We established a communal garden here and it quickly became a place to gather. We could share meals, have a cup of tea together, offer each support, celebrate birthdays…it was a place of community and belonging, but we each had our own space and privacy. I envisage something similar.

I’m something of a mother hen. I’d like to be able to gather all my chickens around me.

I don’t have to think for long to come up with a list of friends I’d like to house!

Only yesterday, I was thinking about a work colleague and a friend, both of whom would find their lives easier with a safe home. The work colleague has Parkinson’s. He is reliant on casual employment in a stressful environment, but has to work for as long as he can. He’s self supporting and has no family in this country. A brave and courageous person, I’d love to be able to say to him “Here is your home for as long as you want.”

My friend is a single mother who struggles to give her child the best possible life  on a very limited income. Imagine being able to offer her a home with a garden for all the animals her daughter yearns for.

I do know that when I have dreamt about a windfall in the past, I end up recognizing that I have enough. And maybe there are other ways to support and cherish my friends. (I won’t give up on the dream of a sanctuary, however!)