Recovering from Brain Injury: Telling my Story

We all have a story to tell. In my work, I advise businesses on how to tell their stories "to engage, inform and delight." But this mission is also a personal one. I've always been a storyteller, whether it be marketing, writing or acting. I love watching the "a ha" moment happen for people who have just learned something new, or are moved, inspired or delighted.

I've been pitching my story about recovering from brain aneuyrysm/hemorrhage to various media outlets and group to help educate about brain injury and inspire those facing challenges. KUOW here in Seattle loved this bizarre and transformational story and just interviewed me for KUOW Presents, which will air on Saturday November 7, between 12 and 2 pm Pacific time. We talked a lot about what I'd learned, how my goals and such had changed, and even about some of the more humorous and crazy things that my initial brain injury caused me to say and think while in ICU!

As with marketing, you need to ensure you have value to offer your audience when doing something like this. And I really wanted to let people know about the effects of brain injury, that the struggle is ongoing even if you "look" fine and that you have to redefine and accept yourself as a result. So many people know litte about this experience, and especially with the uptick in traumatic brain injuries from those returning from Iraq and Afghanistan, you can be sure you or someone you know, work with or hang out with may be touched by it.

Given some folks I met whose families and friends did not understand what was happening to them - often causing disastrous results - I felt I should use my miraculously recovery to help be their voice.

Many of the experiences I documented (when I was able to finally get vision back and type) are here.

What can you do in 365 days?

"How do you measure, measure a year?"
- From the musical "Rent"

August 4, tomorrow, will be the one year anniversary of my aneurysm and brain hemmorhage. How does one celebrate (is that the right word?) the day you almost died? Granted, I haven't gotten melodramatic about the whole event for a year, while those around me want to know if I had a life-changing epiphany. I didn't, really. I was trying so hard to get back to "normal" that I couldn't stop to think about any greater cosmic significance.

But only recently - as I get back into my life again, as business picks up, as I start traveling to visit friends and take vacations again - has this quest for significance grown stronger.

Now, those of you who know me know I'm not much into the naval-gazing or psychobabble. While I enjoy self-actualization, goal setting and even my religious faith as much as the next guy, I have a bit more trouble dwelling on my situation when I saw so many people in rehab much, much worse off than I. People who couldn't fully speak, or walk, or get back to work. Those whose family or friends had abandoned them because they could not deal with the new person they had become. It was heartbreaking and humbling all at the same time.

So, after a dinner out and some glasses of wine shared with my husband...I ponder the duality of "Wow! It's been a whole year since it happened" against "Wow! It's only been a year and look at all we've been through!" Amazing how time and space can morph to be as long or as short as you want them to be.

So, my friends, here is a list of what indeed can happen to someone within 1 year, 365 days. And all I can say is, despite everything, I don't know that I would really change a single thing!

In 365 days, you can:

• Go from healthy to hospitalized to healthy again
• Live through a coiling procedure, an angioplasty, a shunt implementation - and 2 painful eye surgeries.
• Realize how much your spouse truly loves you and how seriously he took the "For better or worse, in sickness and health" part of the vows - especially when he has to see you with a shaved head, breathing tubes and a nasty streak when you lash out
• Learn to never take health for granted ever again
• Take pride in your strength at having stiches put in your head without anesthesia
• Appreciate a family who flies across the country to be with you - knowing many others don't have that kind of bond
• Realize how amazing your mother-in-law really is when she flies from Scotland to Seattle
• Witness firsthand (and be utterly overwhelmed by) the impact you've had on people you've worked with or been friends with over the years - and see just how much you really mean to them
• Learn true generosity of spirit when your friends fly from all over the U.S. to be with you - including some you haven't even seen in a few years - especially when you can't remember most of them being here in the first place
• Appreciate friends who love you so much, they are still there for you when you've temporarily forgotten who they are
• Get used to being pretty much blind for 6 weeks and then have (mostly) full eyesight restored
• Sweep away all the extraneous crap that occupies our lives most days - and realize what truly matters
• Receive the help of countless strangers who saved your life literally and figuratively and realize you may never see any of them again
• Learn to get your strength and stamina back after your body has been through hell
• Appreciate the lessons that your wonderful adopted dog can teach you
• Take time to celebrate small accomplishments, like being able to walk the dog on your own for 30 minutes with no physical therapist present
• See such an outpouring of love, support and well wishes that your heart almost bursts from trying to process it all
• Determine how you will make a difference in the time you have left on this Earth (actually, still working on this one!)
• Learn to not sweat the small stuff
• Learn more about brain injuries and recovery than you would ever possibly care to know
• Recognize your fragile limitations as a human and how wonderfully complex our brains really are in determining our talents and interests
• Accept patience into your life during a slow but steady recovery
• Learn to let go of who you were in exchange for who you have become
• Appreciate the value of slowing down and being in the moment
• Realize the value of going after your dreams, but balance that with not putting too much pressure on yourself to do everything NOW
• Complete an eBook and a book proposal all while recovering from brain injury
• See how wonderful human beings can be to each other - especially medical caregivers
• Recognize how desperately our health care system needs some kind of reform for people who are not as lucky as us
• Appreciate the thrill of driving again when it's been denied to you for 9 months!
• Hone in on the causes that are nearest and dearest to your heart and clear away the clutter
• Learn to let go of pride
• Learn to accept help with an open heart
• Accept your limitations while still loving yourself
• Learn to appreciate all that you have in your own life
• Learn how to give it all back in the end to others who are in need
• Get back up on that horse and live to fight another day, since there is so much to fight for!

My love goes to all of you out there, who sent a card, posted a note on my recovery website, made a phone call, sent an email, flew out here, contributed a gift. And here's some great links:

UW Medical Center - if you have to have brain surgery, you can't ask for more.

Info on brain injury recovery - many of the issues people have recovering from brain injury will shock you, even if the person "looks" okay, but those darn frontal lobes control a lot of behavior we think is automatic.

Lumosity - a great place to train your brain that helped me tremendously. These exercises also help keep your brain nimble against aging, even if you're healthy.

Caring Bridge - where my recovery website was posted: websites for those in medical distress

A Realistic Bucket List

Seems "bucket lists" are all the rage lately. Not sure if this term was around for a while or debuted with the Jack Nicholson/Morgan Freeman film of the same title. Regardless, it kind of irks me that it is swirling around everywhere like so much the latest hot handbag or must-have designer. While I love self-help and goal-setting content as much as the next gal (yes, I read Eckhart Tolle. Back off.), I'm always leary when it takes the form of a blind fad or trend. Shouldn't those themes be much more consistent and ongoing throughout our lives?

As the one year anniversary of my brain hemmorraghe draws closer, however, I'm still trying to figure out what it all means - and if it really means anything anyway. As I distance myself from the immediate needs and recovery of the event - which were all about getting back to daily living - I am entering a second phase of more thoughtful perspectives around the whole thing. Why did I survive? Why is my recovery going so much more miraculously than someone who has 3 children relying on them? If it was not "my time" yet, than what the heck am I meant to do here? What am I not "finished" with?

Answers abound. My husband, who truly understands how lucky we are but is not a spiritual guy, will tell you "This happened because your artery was weak due to genetics and high blood pressure and it burst. You are okay now because we got you to the hospital in time and the doctors were amazingly skilled. End of story." Or maybe it's just as simple as what my friend Melanie, who I had not seen in person in 10 years and just caught up with over dinner, said the other night, "Maybe you are still here so on this night, in this city, we could catch up over dinner and you can entertain me." I like that answer.

Which brings me back to bucket lists. I feel in this "renaissance of enlightenment", we are just putting too much darn pressure on ourselves to "live our best life." I am all about going after you want, not waiting, experiencing all you can experience. But in my life, the adventures have happened pretty organically. Sure, intention and goals are great things. But when they start to consume you, to make you feel like you are less of a person if you don't accomplish them, that's where I have a problem.

My recovery has been all about being gently with myself, setting realistic goals, and not overwhelming myself with too much. I think this is a good way to live, brain injury or not. So rather than some of the more lofty bucket lists out there that seem to taunt and stress out many of us and make us feel like we are not doing, being, seeing enough, here is a simple bucket list. It is doable, achievable and can still enrich your life greatly. You're welcome.

1. Ensure you have at least one person in your life who understands you, accepts you for who you are, and who makes you laugh. Just one will do. Could be a lover, parent, sibling or friend. If you don't have someone like this, make it your mission to find him or her.
2. Spend at least one night of your life falling asleep to, and waking up to, the ocean. Wherever that might be.
3. Next time you are on a plane, bus or train with a rambunctious toddler or fussy baby, try to make them smile. Just once.
4. Call one long-distance friend a week. Not email. PHONE. If you can't call, write a hand-written note.
5. Adopt a pet once in your life and give them a happy, loving home.
6. Say thank you to every bus driver or cabbie when you get off the bus/out of the cab.
7. Once a day, ask one clerk, be it barista or cashier, "How are you doing today?"
8. Have one dinner outside on a warm summer night with friends, wine, candles and great conversation.
9. Each time you talk to a family member or a close friend, say "I love you" at the end of the conversation. You never know if it might be the last time.
10. Every year, make one trip to a place you've never been or somewhere out of your comfort zone. This could be another U.S. city, a foreign country, or it could be based on accomodations: if you are a hotel person, go camping. Try it for perspective.

5 Things I Learn from my Dog

Yes, I've become THAT person: a dog owner. I live for little Eddie, who we adopted from the shelter on a rainy January day in 2008. We had wanted a dog for so long (another part of the rationale to move to Seattle and afford more room than SF) and wished for a dream dog of a Lab, but on the smaller side. And, lo and behold, that day at the shelter we were shown a shy, skittish Black lab mix, about a year old and only 35 lbs., fully grown. I think we conjured him into being.

Since I work from home, I walk him every morning after breakfast and before my shower. I love having this little luxury in my life. And now I can actually relate to women who struggle with going back to work and leaving their baby at home. Yes, I know - he's a dog. But he's our baby. Of course, we don't overspoil him, as we're huge disciples of The Dog Whisperer so we practice "exercise, discipline, then affection" in that all-important order. Eexcept for one guilty excess: we let him curl up on the couch (only on his blanket, naturally). He's just so damn cute, I can't resist.

My walks with him have taken on new meaning after my hospital stay last year. When I first got home from my hemmorraghed brain aneurysm episiode, I was weak, frail and had major vision issues. So for me, the goal was "to be able to walk Eddie again on my own." And I reached that goal. No "I want to visit the Pyramids" or "I have to see the world" near-death comeback goals for me. The whole ordeal actually made me want to get back to the simple pleasures of life and walking the dog by the lovely little canal near our house was one of them.

As I walk Eddie, I realize how much he has taught me on these little 30 minute soul-satisying getaways. Lessons I apparently needed to learn after my high-stress, high blood pressure, non-stop, overcommitted, active lifestyle put me in the hospital in the first place:

1) Live in the moment: Dogs are all about this. They can't remember one minute from the next. When I'm walking and a thousand to-do items are swirling through my head as I charge onward, Eddie will stop short and pull me back to the present to stop and sniff a flower or a shrub. Doesn't matter if we've passed it a million times; he finds something new in it. It's a good reminder to just be in the moment and enjoy the precious 30 minutes outside with him, look around, get out of my head, breathe, and RELAX.

2) There can be beauty in crap - just depends on your perspective: As we trot through the college campus right by my house, cherry blossoms blooming, the spring air thawing winter's chill, I'm assaulted with the smells of newly laid manure in the plantbeds and lawns. It's nasty. Eddie, however, acts like a tween girl at a Miley Cyrus concert. He leaps up and down, tries to romp through the grass (as far as his leash will go) and pretty much goes nuts. To him, it's like catnip (dognip?). So I realize one man's trash is another dog's treasure, so to speak. And it reminds me that from this foul stench, bright green grass, gorgeous tiulips, azaleas, and daffodils are blooming nicely for us to enjoy.

3) Forgive and forget: When we come home and Eddie does not come bounding down the stairs to greet us, we know he's been up to something. So we trudge upstairs to see what horror awaits. Usually it's that he's dug something from the recycling bag and torn it to shreds. He cowers before we've even said anything (which my husband recently said kind of made him respect the little guy). So we do the "Bad Dog!" routine and Time Out. And after 15 minutes, he's back licking our hands or sitting in front of us expectantly, tail wagging. All is forgotten. So we must forget as well. I've never been good at quickly overcoming things when someone hurts or disappoints me, but he makes me realize that you have to move on if you love each other.

4) Find joy in the simple things: Taking Eddie to the dog park and letting him run free, chasing the ball, greeting other dogs gives me more pleasure than I ever would have thought possible. I love that he can run around, off leash, and get his exercise. He's so joyful, it's unreal. Doesn't matter how many times we throw that ball: his ears perk up, his tail wags excessively, you hear the "pant, pant" of his tongue, and he eagerly awaits the ball throw. I can't remember the last time I felt as much joy about something so simple. And then I think: in this moment, my joy comes from watching his joy. Even when he is just laying on the coach, you can look at him. He'll stare back, not moving, and then just his tail will start going like crazy. All because you are just paying attention to him and he loves that. Or while on the coach, he flips over on his back, splaying his legs and all his parts to the world and just lays there, paws in mid-air. And he'll just look at you, upside down, with an expression of, "What?" on his face. This makes me laugh each and every time. Never gets old. Talk about a recession-proof pleasure.

5) Put someone else first: I've never really had to take care of anyone else in my life. I'm the youngest in my family. Yes, I babysat as a kid and have neices and nephews, but it's not the same. We don't know if we will have kids someday, so for us, Eddie is new territory. We have to plan now. That word was never really in our vocab before. We have to make sure he gets walked and fed, and we have to make arrangements when we go out of town (thanks Guy and Barb!). Sometimes, we'll be out in the evening, and we actually feel bad about leaving him alone so we try to get home quickly. With my health issues, we have been on one income and I have sacrificed some little pleasures for myself to make sure Eddie's still gets his high quality food, treats or a new toy. Where I used to spend that pointless money on myself, now I spend it on him - all because I see how much joy he gets from things (see #4). Maybe it's all in my head, but I don't care. It feels good to do something that makes your dog happy - even if he won't remember it in 5 minutes.

Having a dog is wonderful - and really helped in my recovery over these last few months. I don't so much mind becoming "that" person. So much so, that I've fawned recently over a SF photographer I am hoping to work with, Ann Hamilton. Check out her dog portraits on her blog. This gal is good and captures the spirit of these furry little ones perfectly

Old Me, New Me

When you are recovering from a brain injury, as I am, there is a wide spectrum of therapy, advice and help available depending on your own situation. I have been fortunate enough to have wonderful doctors and overall care through the University of Washington Medical Center network and are continuing to take advantage of their therapy programs for cognitive and psychological help.

What is interesting throughout all of this, is how vague many of the answers can be. Sure, there is a lot they know about the brain - there are common organic and psychological symptoms that hit most brain injury patients and the doctors/therapists are great about providing "strategies' to deal with them. "Strategies" has been a big word in my vocabulary the last 6 months - all the therapists talk about strategies. What are your strategies for remembering information? What are your strategies for managing depression and irritability? What are your strategies for processing information that you don't understand?

Some of these strategies are basic time management and organizational principles, and as a professional, I was already employing many of them - writing notes, keeping a calendar, asking for clarification, rehearsal, etc. But some are more fundamental than that: being okay with asking someone to repeat things, for example, or counting to 10 before reacting, creating something to make you get out of bed in the morning, etc.

The common question I get is "When will you be back to normal?" I ask it of myself many times. Most people think I am "back to my old self" but a lot of what I deal with are things that only I notice as different from before. That is not to say they are "no big deal," as some people try to graciously comfort me with. The other thing people say in an effort to make me feel better is "Oh, I have memory problems too!" I know they mean well, but that sort of belittles my own experience. Plus, I did INDEED have some short term memory problems before this all happened and needed to write things down, but I'm dealing with a delta now that you are not - and I have to test those boundaries every day to know where the line is. I know that before, there were ways I handled things (old me); now, I just have to learn new ways of managing through them (new me). Sometimes this can get very frustrating, if you are used to operating in a certain way. It kind of makes you feel like a different person, which is a bit disconcerting.

I always try to ask the doctors and therapists, "Does it ever 'heal' or 'go away'? Will it ever be like it was?" And I get the quintessential non-descript medical answer: Your conditions can improve over time with practice and healing. So.....does that mean I never get to be the person I was? Well, they can't really say. Only that "you will see progress." To me, that means they are not sure if the brain actually heals to "pre-injury" condition, but that you can find new ways of doing things to balance out the effects.

Sometimes, this answer is good enough; other times, it gets me very fustrated. I can deal with "if you practice these strategies every day, you will be back to your old self in 1 year." Measureable, concrete, I know what I have to do. But no one can give that answer, as the brain is a complex thing.

So my interpretation? I just have to embrace "new me" and let go of "old me." I still am the person I was, but I might not be able to "wing it" in a presentation anymore or remember everyone's name so quickly. Those traits were part of who I was, but not who I will be. And that's okay, I guess, since many people deal with those traits even without a brain injury (although piece of advice: that does not make a brain injury patient feel any better! They have still lost a part of themselves that defined them).

The only way I can think to describe it is if your whole life, you defined yourself as "being a middle child" and all that entailed and then one day, you woke up and now you are told "you are an only child." What are the ramifications of how you see yourself and identify yourself (assuming there was no sibling death; it just one day became fact)? Yes, many people deal with being an only child all the time and from the outside looking in, that seems "normal", but for you, it is a different definition of self than it was before. And you have to cope with that.

So, I still have many of my personality traits from before - except I am overwhelmed a lot more easily and probably cannot live the frenetic, multi-activity life I led before as a) it is hard for me to focus, b) I get fatigued a lot more easily and c) it's not good for my high-blood pressure! So I have to deal with that loss - and it is a loss - and try to embrace the new me. One thing I do know: new me is a very lucky lady and has a lot to be thankful for.

Down but Not Out!

Hello friends. Red Slice has been out recovering from a brain aneurysm and subsequent hemorrage for the last few months. But recovery is going well and we are extrememely lucky things were not worse than they were.

I have been touched by how many friends and family members reached out to me during this time. Talk about knowing who your real friends are! I think that was the best part of this whole experience - realizing how loved and valued you really are.

So,Red Slice has not had a chance to really get out wining and dining (and the fact that I need to stay off alcohol for a while does not help!). But I am slowly getting back to normal and hope to resume my dining and drinking adventures very soon.

The one thing that has been really interesting about this whole experience is that, while I'm just trying to get back to the level I was at before all this hoo ha, many of my friends have been so moved by my experience that thay are taking drastic actions on theor own lives: aiming for those goals they always thought they would ":get to:; taking that trip around the world before it;s too late, etc. Everyone keeps asking me if I have a different perspective on life from all of this. While I do know how lucky we are and how precious life is, I guess for me it's all about the little things: I was thrilled to be able to walk my dog again. So my world travels/bestselling novel/higher calling occupation are a little on the back burner these days! But I am so happy to see that others have been inspired to follow their bliss from my experiences.

And i guess, for me, that's the big thing: I always wanted to inspire people in some way. So maybe I was able to achieve my "big dream" through all of this as well!

To my friends and damily, THANK YOU for being so wonderfully supportive! :-)