Turning 30 – August 12^th 2006:

Prior to my condition, I always thought that I would have a hard time turning 30. By the summer of 2006, however, I was so happy to be alive and to be doing better every day that turning 30 was a blessing. My older sister, who had been such an amazing support when I was sick, had prayed to God for two things that year: 1) That I would live to celebrate my 1^st anniversary with Camron. And 2) That I would live to celebrate my 30^th birthday. Not only were her prayers being answered, but I was improving on a daily basis. I never dreamed I’d walk again, and I was walking a whole mile at a time by this point.

My family went to Dosewallips State Park to camp for our family reunion on the weekend of my 30^th birthday. My parents took their 5^th wheel, and we stayed with them. It was a roomy 5^th wheel, about the size of a one bedroom apartment. I was so happy to be alive and to see my family. My cousin, Jennifer, made me a birthday drink, a mojito, which was a popular drink at the time. My in-laws came to our reunion, too. We spent time around the fire, visiting. We played board games at night in the 5^th wheel. We took walks on the beach. It was the best birthday a girl could hope for.

The cool thing was that I had ordered a wig and it showed up at my house the day we were leaving on our trip. I was tired of wearing hats, and the wig looked quite a bit like my own hairstyle. I had given up on all of my hair growing back by then. Brain radiation sometimes kills the hair follicles, and I had a friend who didn’t get much of her hair back nearly 10 years prior to this. My radiation oncologist was optimistic, but I had too many other people tell me that the bald spots probably wouldn’t fill in.

The Strong People in my Life:

It’s amazing how many things we, as human beings, take for granted. It’s when the things and people we love are taken from us that we fully appreciate them. It’s a strange thing, but we are all guilty of this very thing. It doesn’t take long to forget to be thankful every day. During the summer of 2006, I woke up every day and thanked God in advance for my continued healing. I knew the progress I was making was substantial, and that there was a light at the end of this dark tunnel.

I was amazed at this time to learn of how people will respond to tragedy, some gracefully doing what they can to help you through the hardest of times. Others running away and hiding like cowards, as if being away from it all makes it not happen. I was impressed with the courage of so many friends, family, and coworkers. People I never expected to be there were, and vice versa.

My sister, Stephanie, had moved in temporarily with my parents to help me through my treatments. She stayed behind when I went to UCSF to look after my house and my cats. She said it was one of the hardest things for her to do because she wanted to be with me in California. But she knew that she was helping by staying in Vancouver, as well. She had been such an amazing support while I was sick. She gave me manicures, pedicures, and facials. I never knew my sister had this kind of strength until I needed it so much.

Stephanie decided to move her family to the Vancouver area after my return from UCSF. My family, who have always been close, somehow managed to appreciate each other more than ever in the light of recent events. I was happy that we could be together more.

I can’t even imagine what my parents went through during my illness. Never having been a parent myself, I can only speculate what they must have felt like. My mother’s nursing skills came in handy several times, and I know that her experience and knowledge eased my suffering tremendously. There were nurses who didn’t give a crap how I felt, and it showed. But I always had my mother, a strong advocate for my well being. When the Neuro ICU nurse pinched my fingernail till it bled, when the post surgical nurse was content with me not responding, when people weren’t doing their jobs properly, my mother knew what to do and how to correct the situation. Maybe it was maternal instinct, maybe it was the fact that she cared, but I will always be thankful for this miracle in my life. I didn’t appreciate her at the time, but since then I’ve apologized profusely. She’s my angel.

When I was finally able to eat again, my dad would get me smoothies, pudding, and ice cream.  He would try to feed me and I would grab the spoon and put the whole thing in my mouth, although most of it ended up on my clothes.  After that, he would get me whatever I wanted.  All I had to do was make eye contact and he’d ask if I wanted a treat.  I later referred to Dad as “He-man” and Mom as “She-man” since they would help me transfer when I couldn’t walk or stand up.  They were both so strong for me.  I couldn’t have done it without either of them.

My husband was an amazing support system for me, as well. He’s such a strong person, and I can’t imagine going through such an event without him. When I was weak, he held me up and took care of me. He cooked, cleaned, chauffeured, and genuinely cared about me. I had one person tell me that they were sure their husband wouldn’t be able to handle such a situation. I wondered how you could be with someone if you knew that they would leave you during such an ordeal. It’s so shocking to me that people could take the sacred vows of marriage so lightly.

Amanda, my younger sister, had been one of my best friends since we were little kids. I had always looked after her and tried to take on the role of mother when we were kids. I would come home from school and try to teach her everything I had learned. She was only 3 or 4, and I was trying to teach her math. We remained close throughout high school and college. We were roommates on more than one occasion. Aside from Camron, Amanda was my best bud.

Amanda lived in Sunnyvale, not far from San Francisco, when I was in the hospital there. My parents were able to stay with her, and they all took turns staying with me at the hospital. I remember Amanda stretching my legs when my heart rate was high. This would always relax me a bit and bring my heart rate down. She was so good to me.

My in-laws, Bill and Edie, drove to San Francisco on the day I was life flighted down there. It worked out for them to stay at a friend’s house close to the hospital. They took shifts to stay with me at the hospital, and were an amazing part of my support group.

Aside from my family, I had the pharmacy department at Southwest Washington Medical Center. Never before had I worked with a team of people who were so supportive.  Maybe it was the fact that I needed so much support for the first time in my life, but it seemed that SWMC staff went above and beyond.  I’ll never be able to pay them back for the generous gifts: gifts of time, money, and thoughtful supportive help they gave me throughout my illness.

My oncology team, Dr. KK and Dr. Schneider. The social workers who diligently worked to get me life flighted. The CEO of SWMC, who helped get the insurance to pay for my life flight. These people saved my life.

I guess what I’m saying is that it’s important to have a good support group. Whether it’s family or it’s people who share the same illness, we need each other. I never could have gotten better on my own.

Afterward:

I returned to work on January 8^th, 2007, after my head shot from January 2^nd showed no new tumor growth or enhancement. I decided to work three days a week to keep my much needed health insurance. The hospital pharmacy department worked with me to come up with a schedule that would suit my needs. I started off with six hour shifts, which turned into eight hour shifts. They allowed me to work where I was comfortable working. The only difference was it was during the day instead of at night.

I was surprised at how much I remembered upon returning to work. I had been on medical leave for 13 months, yet all my passwords were still in my memory somehow. For the most part, I remembered protocols, the computer system, and a lot of birthdays of the staff.  I remained at SWMC pharmacy for another 3 1/2 years before returning to long term care pharmacy.  It has been great working with my old pals again, and I couldn’t be happier.  I would never trade my time spent in hospital pharmacy, and the knowledge and skills I’ve gained are priceless.  But being back in long term care is where I belong, and I feel blessed that I can work and function in this thing called life.

Not long after returning to work, I met a volunteer at the hospital, who had written a book on his condition. I read his book and was so inspired to get my story down.  Tony Anjoubault, you have inspired me more than you will ever know.  May you rest in peace, in a paradise without pain, hurt, or sorrow.  God be with you till we meet again my friend.