Eight Years

As a journalist, I feel as though I have failed my readers a bit. You've been waiting for a month for an update, and I am so sorry that it has taken me this long to do so. Life here just doesn't slow down. But I suppose that is true of all life, life doesn't slow down. I suppose it is completely appropriate that it is now that I finally have a chance to write about what has happened recently, as much as it is appropriate to write about what has happened over the last 8 years.

Let me go back, as many of you know, I am a "wonderer." I wonder a lot, I wonder "what if's" and "since when's" and "how come's." I wonder "why" and "how" and "when." I have this feeling I was always this way. Always a planner and worrier. And I was often very good at pretending everything was alright. (My family may confirm or deny that). Eight years ago this Friday, October 8th, 2010 I was sitting in my language arts classroom (that'd be English for those not familiar with the new-age term they've given it to make it sound more interesting, like renaming History to be "Social Studies"). There I was sitting in my classroom and the office TA came into the room with a pink slip. Those pink slips meant one thing and one thing only. Somebody was being told to go to the office immediately. That day, for some unknown reason, when that lonely TA walked into the room I knew, deep in some unknown part of me, that today's pink slip was for me. I remember it like yesterday. When my teacher confirmed my suspicions that said note was in fact for me, for the first time I prayed that I was in trouble. Because if I was in trouble then the real reason for the note wouldn't have been what it was. I gathered my belongings and started walking down the long corridor (which seemed to have expanded in size since lunch) and I fought to keep back the tears. As I rounded the corner of the hallway into the great open foyer which some fancy architect had designed to give our otherwise boring concrete school some character a wave of both happiness and total sadness came over me. Into view came my parents, both sitting on the oh, so uncomfortable wooden bench (one of those "let's make it feel like a cabin and just slice a giant tree in half, slather it in wood-polish and stick it on some iron legs" benches that seem to be taking over the public spaces near my Seattle home). Seeing them both there, while it was a blessing, was also a terrible thing because it meant a terrible thing.

I suppose I've gotten a WEE bit ahead of myself, seeing how some of you don't know the whole story, and while I would love to share it, it is rather long and I wouldn't want to bore you. So I'll try to make a reader's digest version of the previous 4 months. In May of 2002 I began to have headaches. Really bad headaches. Nearly everyday, lasting a few hours, sometimes crippling, always annoying and often draining of any ability to continue functioning for the day. After a month or so of that, I was taken to see a neurologist who had seen me twice before, at the age of 8, when for a year I suffered from a series of migraines which mysteriously stopped and at that point it was determined I needed no further assistance. Sometimes I wonder (here I go again) what might have happened if they hadn't stopped their investigation so quickly and abruptly. Perhaps this would not be the 8th anniversary but rather the 13th... Anyway, to get back on track. My mother (who will forever be known as a saint in my book) took me to see this physician who asked me a series of questions, looked into my eyes with a mag-light (or so it seemed) and made me walk on an imaginary tightrope back & forth across his office. After trying a series of medicines that were ineffective in treating or preventing the headaches and a summer, terribly affected by my illness (also full of moving houses, changing schools, trying to find new friends, etc) at the beginning of 8th grade, the headaches were still there, and in fact worsening by the day. So, my neurologist recommended an MRI be done. (Now, to quote him "I don't think we'll find anything, but we should do the scan, just to rule it out.") Those words still haunt me.

So within the first week of October an MRI was scheduled. I was to miss the morning at school, but would be there by lunchtime. My mother took me into Overlake hospital in Bellevue and into the Medical Imaging center attached to the main hospital building. We filled out the forms, myself laughing that I had to answer whether I was, or thought I might be pregnant. All was well and good. They took me back but let my mom come with. We removed all my earrings, and I put on the horrible green-blue colored hospital gown. I was lead into the MRI room where they put me on a giant table that moved up and down, locked my head into a plastic cage and laid blankets over me to keep me warm. (Now I had previously had one MRI, about 1.5 years prior, after I had broken my wrist, and that one was horrendous. I was forced to lay on my stomach, holding myself up by my arms in a most uncomfortable position and wait over an hour with loud and bizarre knocking sounds on either side of my body, this time was a dream compared to that). I vaguely remember the music choice, it must have been something "hip" and "poppy" - all that comes to mind is either it was one of those horrendous NOW music mixes (and at that time, had to have been NOW 4 or 5) or it was Britany Spears. Either way, it did not mix well with the familiar knocking sounds. However, I was glad to have something to distract me and I was glad I could lay on my back. (In fact in the many dozens of scans since then, I have perfected the ability to sleep through the ruckus). The test went by a little faster than I suppose I had expected, and as they pulled me out they said we'd get the results in a few days.

So my awesome mom took me to lunch, and then dropped me off at school so I could at least get in a few classes before the end of the day. Or so I thought. I hadn't been back more than an hour when I received notice that the radiologist wanted me to come back in and retake some of the tests. As far as I knew, I had moved, or it was blurry or something else went technically wrong, and they were just covering their bases. I had no idea that what they really wanted to do was get in closer and take a second look at a somewhat ominous looking spot somewhere deep in my head. My mom came and picked me up no sooner than I had gotten into class and drove me back to Overlake for take two of the day. They wanted us back in immediately, but didn't have a spot, so we waited, I tried to do some of the homework my teachers had given me and just hung around in the waiting room. I don't remember if it was that time or the next one (which was a few months later) I remembered to bring a CD from my own collection so that I wouldn't be forced to listen to N*Sync one more time. The second scan was done just before dinnertime. Had to have finished about 5:30 or 6pm. It was a rather uneventful day. By that time, the radiologist had left for the evening, but would be back first thing in the morning, on October 8th to review the findings.

On October the 8th 2002, I went to school like any other day, had a mild headache like any other day, and sat in class wondering, like any other day. Until that damn pink slip walked into my class and my heart sunk. So there you go. That was how we found out I had this "thing" in my head. The days, weeks and months following all sort of blur together. In fact much of the last eight years seems to blur together. But the fact of the matter is that 8 years ago this week my life changed. Really changed. I couldn't, I can't go back to what I was, or what I thought I was going to be. And while that fact was rather difficult to accept, it was also, at least I think, a godsend, because of the turn of events in my life, my choices, directions and goals changed. Granted at the time, I saw having to leave traditional high school as some sort of punishment from God. I thought that I would never achieve my goal of living abroad, or alone, or ever graduate, never go to college, never get a real job. Now I know, my life was just meant to go a little out of order. I left public high school at 16. I had graduated by 17 and started community college that spring. After a failed attempt at that (let's face it, school is tough when you have chronic headaches, whether that is high school, home school or college) I tried another front. I got a job, and I kept up with that job for over a year and a half, improving myself and my position. It took 5.5 years after the diagnosis to get to that point, but I had finally done it. And then I discovered a way to pursue my dream of living in Europe without doing it through university as originally expected. I found the life of an au pair. I gave my boss 6 months notice (and she needed it, because let's face it, replacing the "Customer Service Goddess" would not be an easy thing to do), and a year ago, right about the time of the 7th anniversary, I was offered a job in Switzerland. I was always impartial to fall. Sure I liked the crisp air and the late summer sunshine, but I could do without the wetness of the pacific northwest. Sure I loved the tastes of autumn, but wasn't always excited about the coming winter. Now, early Autumn means another thing to me.

This reminds me of when I was Provost for my church Acolytes group. As an officer of the group, our jobs were to rotate the duty of preparing a bible study for our bimonthly meetings. It always seemed like our default was "New Beginnings," mostly, because if you think about it, that's what life is: a series of new beginnings. The new year, an official new beginning. Spring: the new beginnings of life, the cycle of plants, Easter bringing Jesus's rebirth through resurrection. Summer was the beginning of a time without school, to start thinking about what we might do the following school year and lastly, Fall/Autumn: of course this means newness. School starting, changes to attitude, clothing, goals, aspirations, etc. And Winter again, snow covering the earth in a sheet of white, giving newness a visible meaning. A blank slate. New opportunities, chances and visions.

Now, autumn is my new year. Like a birthday, it marks another year of my life in the status quo. My life changes from season to season, year to year, but the things that inspire that change doesn't actually change much. Either I am physically one year older, each January, or I am dealing with another year of my second life, every October.

Sometimes I feel like because of October 8th, 2002 my life changed and became a new one. I missed out on a lot of my adolescence, but I also gained an extra 5-6 years of adulthood it seems. Sometimes I wonder which is worse, missing out on "being a kid" or getting more time to "be grownup" and what does being a grown-up really mean?

As I said, I am a wonderer. I wonder about the what if's, the how come's and the since when's of my life. Most of the time I don't have an answer. But on rare occasions, my answer is: October 8th, because I was chosen to live my life in a way unplanned, unpredicted and unchangeable. I am who I am and that's all I can be. Or is it...

More posts to be coming soon. Love to all.

PS: I couldn't find any of my brain scan photos that were formatted for sharing, but here are a couple from May 2005 when I was in the hospital to check my ICP (inter-cranial pressure). Something tumor related.

I went to Seattle Children's Hospital and had a tube stuck into my brain. Pretty cool when you think about it now... In fact, somewhere I think I still have the tube...

And for more current news:

OKTOBERFEST 2010!!! September 24-25 some friends and myself went to Munich for Oktoberfest. What an AMAZING weekend! We had so much fun, I sort of wish I'd be here for next year's festivities! I will certainly need to return to Munich before my departure from Europe though because I know there is more to see than just beer tents!!!

And a collage of many fun adventures from September: Scot's visit/friend's going away party @ our favorite bar, Oktoberfest, Bern & bears, etc. and many fun nights of intoxication (both with the help of alcohol AND just being drunk on life!) :-D

Oh and last but not least, a link to my photo album for September: "Brothers, Boys, Beer, Bears, Bern & Bretzles"