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

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