And Then It Exploded
Recently (if you still count June as recent) I shook hands with shelbyg and announced that I would start updating livejournal again. Like most of my good intentions, it took me a while to act on this. I don't even know where to begin now.
Since my last entries, Chris has become one of the most important people in my life. Because of him, I realized it was time to get rid of my money-pit Volkswagen and purchase a more reliable car. Because of him I have finally started working toward achieving good credit. Because of him I found the motivation I needed to stop hoarding and live a more simplistic life style. Because of him I am alive. He saved my life.
On the evening September 6th, my entire world changed. I'm not trying to be overly dramatic. I returned home from Burning Man in the late afternoon. I unloaded one playa covered box from my car, figuring I would unload the rest later (I still haven't). I went upstairs and proceeded to try on clothing my roommate was giving away. Chris arrived and took me out to dinner in Pasadena. We each had two beers. From there, we stopped by the station and pestered my co-workers over the outside intercom (imagine their surprise when they heard a few hours later that I was hospitalized). We went back to my apartment and were about to watch a movie. Unfortunately, I did not find out what movie it was going to be until a week and a half later. I almost didn't find out at all. One moment I was fine, the next moment I was in extreme pain. I had a brain aneurysm. An aneurysm rupture is commonly described as the worst headache of your life. That is an understatement. It fills your entire head. It pulses. It's blinding. Its crippling. Chris gave me some water, which I immediately threw up. He then called 911.
I remember asking for my cat to be locked in my roommates room. I remember not liking the paramedics. One kept insisting that I just had a headache. I don't get headaches. Something is wrong. I remember hearing, "Well ma'am, I think you just have a headache. Do you still want to be transported?" I insisted that I wanted to be transported. They asked me if I could walk. I told them no. I asked them if Chris could carry me. They told me no. They ultimately strapped me into a gurney that folds into a chair and took me down the several flights of stairs to the waiting ambulance.
The hospital is a complete blur. I kept my eyes closed because the slightest amount of light caused extreme pain. I think I had my face covered with a towel. I threw up a few more times. I thought I was left in a general waiting area, but I'm told that I was very quickly moved to a room. At one point, they turned on a light above me. I started screaming. I remember Chris turned the light off. My savior! They put a bed pan under me and told me to pee. In my memory, I didn't understand why I was required to pee. Chris later told me that I knew exactly why they wanted me to pee. Before giving me any pain killers, they wanted to make sure I wasn't pregnant. "I'm not pregnant! I'm on the depo shot! I just got back from a trip! I haven't had sex in two weeks!" I kept insisting. I don't remember this. I simply remember being forced to pee. Problem was, I was terrified to pee. I was afraid to push for fear that my head would explode. I kept trying to relax my muscles. The pee gods refused to smile upon me. Bastards. Finally I pushed. I remember screaming, "I'm peeing!" Drugs finally came.
Chris will tell you that I liked the morphine so much that I started asking every person who walked by for more morphine. I will tell you different. I was in more pain than I have ever been in. The morphine was taking too long to work. The first time I asked for more, they indulged me. So of course, I kept asking. I don't remember the pain going away. It must have. I had two CT scans. The first one discovered the ruptured aneurysm. The second one was done with dye contrast to verify I needed surgery. I only remember one of the CT scans...and even then I was only aware it was happening once it was over. Somewhere in there I was told that I had a brain aneurysm. An image popped into my head -- a rose bush. I hadn't thought of this rose bush in a long time, but I had always felt some odd connection to it. In high school a memorial rose bush was planted for a girl who died from a brain aneurysm. I never knew her. She died a year or so before I started high school. I remember someone saying, "I've heard those are very painful." I looked at that rose bush 5 days a week for 4 years. 11 years later, all I could think about was that rose bush. Eventhough I knew the answer, I asked if a brain aneurysm is bad. "Well...it's not good. But you are in a very good place for this kind of thing. We are going to do everything we can for you," a male's voice said. I found the words calming.
Everything fades in and out. I remember asking Chris to call various family members. I remember asking Chris to make a post to my facebook.
They explained the surgery to me...but I only vaguely understood what they were talking about. It was as though they were explaining what they were going to do to the person in the next room whom I would never meet. They were going to go through my leg and coil a platinum wire in my head to stop the bleed. This didn't sound real. I opened my eyes to sign a paper that was held in front of me. I didn't understand what I was signing. I just knew they were trying to help me.
I'm told I was taken directly to surgery after the second CT scan. Chris was not told I was being taken into surgery. He was outside having a cigarette when they went to look for him. Because my eyes were closed, I did not know when he was there vs when he was not there. I woke up the next day. Everything was blurry. A doctor told me they stopped the bleed. Familiar faces kept appearing every time I opened my eyes. I thanked people for being there. I probably thanked the same people each time I opened my eyes. Each time I opened my eyes, each face was completely new to me. It was rather overwhelming.
The days that followed were surreal. I had double vision. I had frequent headaches. I couldn't eat. I liked visitors, but also found them overwhelming and exhausting. The first few nights I dreamed that I was back at Burning Man. I would kick the edges of my hospital bed. Internally I would plead to be taken to a hospital.
Once I was reasonably lucid, a cardiac surgeon came in and told me that I had a heart defect. I was born with an aortic coarctation. This type of thing is normally diagnosed in childhood. The aortic coarctation is the reason that I have had high blood pressure for several years. The majority of my pressure goes to my head and arms. My legs receive very little blood. The coarctation is the reason I had the brain aneurysm. I would need surgery. They suggested getting it done in the next few months -- once I have recovered from the aneurysm.
I have so much more to write, but I am getting extremely tired. It is extremely strange when I think about the fact that I almost died. According to doctor's, the kind of aneurysm I had is the kind that people normally drop dead from. The bleed started damming itself which is why I even made it to the hospital. If Chris hadn't been there, I likely would have died. If this had occurred while I was still at Burning Man, I would have died. It is strange facing ones own mortality for the first time. I am too young to face mortality. I am so thankful that Chris was there when this happened. He has been my rock through this entire ordeal. I don't know where I would be without him.
To Be Continued...
Since my last entries, Chris has become one of the most important people in my life. Because of him, I realized it was time to get rid of my money-pit Volkswagen and purchase a more reliable car. Because of him I have finally started working toward achieving good credit. Because of him I found the motivation I needed to stop hoarding and live a more simplistic life style. Because of him I am alive. He saved my life.
On the evening September 6th, my entire world changed. I'm not trying to be overly dramatic. I returned home from Burning Man in the late afternoon. I unloaded one playa covered box from my car, figuring I would unload the rest later (I still haven't). I went upstairs and proceeded to try on clothing my roommate was giving away. Chris arrived and took me out to dinner in Pasadena. We each had two beers. From there, we stopped by the station and pestered my co-workers over the outside intercom (imagine their surprise when they heard a few hours later that I was hospitalized). We went back to my apartment and were about to watch a movie. Unfortunately, I did not find out what movie it was going to be until a week and a half later. I almost didn't find out at all. One moment I was fine, the next moment I was in extreme pain. I had a brain aneurysm. An aneurysm rupture is commonly described as the worst headache of your life. That is an understatement. It fills your entire head. It pulses. It's blinding. Its crippling. Chris gave me some water, which I immediately threw up. He then called 911.
I remember asking for my cat to be locked in my roommates room. I remember not liking the paramedics. One kept insisting that I just had a headache. I don't get headaches. Something is wrong. I remember hearing, "Well ma'am, I think you just have a headache. Do you still want to be transported?" I insisted that I wanted to be transported. They asked me if I could walk. I told them no. I asked them if Chris could carry me. They told me no. They ultimately strapped me into a gurney that folds into a chair and took me down the several flights of stairs to the waiting ambulance.
The hospital is a complete blur. I kept my eyes closed because the slightest amount of light caused extreme pain. I think I had my face covered with a towel. I threw up a few more times. I thought I was left in a general waiting area, but I'm told that I was very quickly moved to a room. At one point, they turned on a light above me. I started screaming. I remember Chris turned the light off. My savior! They put a bed pan under me and told me to pee. In my memory, I didn't understand why I was required to pee. Chris later told me that I knew exactly why they wanted me to pee. Before giving me any pain killers, they wanted to make sure I wasn't pregnant. "I'm not pregnant! I'm on the depo shot! I just got back from a trip! I haven't had sex in two weeks!" I kept insisting. I don't remember this. I simply remember being forced to pee. Problem was, I was terrified to pee. I was afraid to push for fear that my head would explode. I kept trying to relax my muscles. The pee gods refused to smile upon me. Bastards. Finally I pushed. I remember screaming, "I'm peeing!" Drugs finally came.
Chris will tell you that I liked the morphine so much that I started asking every person who walked by for more morphine. I will tell you different. I was in more pain than I have ever been in. The morphine was taking too long to work. The first time I asked for more, they indulged me. So of course, I kept asking. I don't remember the pain going away. It must have. I had two CT scans. The first one discovered the ruptured aneurysm. The second one was done with dye contrast to verify I needed surgery. I only remember one of the CT scans...and even then I was only aware it was happening once it was over. Somewhere in there I was told that I had a brain aneurysm. An image popped into my head -- a rose bush. I hadn't thought of this rose bush in a long time, but I had always felt some odd connection to it. In high school a memorial rose bush was planted for a girl who died from a brain aneurysm. I never knew her. She died a year or so before I started high school. I remember someone saying, "I've heard those are very painful." I looked at that rose bush 5 days a week for 4 years. 11 years later, all I could think about was that rose bush. Eventhough I knew the answer, I asked if a brain aneurysm is bad. "Well...it's not good. But you are in a very good place for this kind of thing. We are going to do everything we can for you," a male's voice said. I found the words calming.
Everything fades in and out. I remember asking Chris to call various family members. I remember asking Chris to make a post to my facebook.
They explained the surgery to me...but I only vaguely understood what they were talking about. It was as though they were explaining what they were going to do to the person in the next room whom I would never meet. They were going to go through my leg and coil a platinum wire in my head to stop the bleed. This didn't sound real. I opened my eyes to sign a paper that was held in front of me. I didn't understand what I was signing. I just knew they were trying to help me.
I'm told I was taken directly to surgery after the second CT scan. Chris was not told I was being taken into surgery. He was outside having a cigarette when they went to look for him. Because my eyes were closed, I did not know when he was there vs when he was not there. I woke up the next day. Everything was blurry. A doctor told me they stopped the bleed. Familiar faces kept appearing every time I opened my eyes. I thanked people for being there. I probably thanked the same people each time I opened my eyes. Each time I opened my eyes, each face was completely new to me. It was rather overwhelming.
The days that followed were surreal. I had double vision. I had frequent headaches. I couldn't eat. I liked visitors, but also found them overwhelming and exhausting. The first few nights I dreamed that I was back at Burning Man. I would kick the edges of my hospital bed. Internally I would plead to be taken to a hospital.
Once I was reasonably lucid, a cardiac surgeon came in and told me that I had a heart defect. I was born with an aortic coarctation. This type of thing is normally diagnosed in childhood. The aortic coarctation is the reason that I have had high blood pressure for several years. The majority of my pressure goes to my head and arms. My legs receive very little blood. The coarctation is the reason I had the brain aneurysm. I would need surgery. They suggested getting it done in the next few months -- once I have recovered from the aneurysm.
I have so much more to write, but I am getting extremely tired. It is extremely strange when I think about the fact that I almost died. According to doctor's, the kind of aneurysm I had is the kind that people normally drop dead from. The bleed started damming itself which is why I even made it to the hospital. If Chris hadn't been there, I likely would have died. If this had occurred while I was still at Burning Man, I would have died. It is strange facing ones own mortality for the first time. I am too young to face mortality. I am so thankful that Chris was there when this happened. He has been my rock through this entire ordeal. I don't know where I would be without him.
To Be Continued...