So as of the time of this post, it was exactly one year ago—9:13am on 11/7/2019—that I woke up on the floor in the living room.
Continue reading “An Annie-Versary”Tag: cerebral aneurysms
September is National Brain Aneurysm Awareness Month
No, really, it is! Or at least, it was last year — Congress passed a bill designating September 2019 as such! It seems even these days, it’s possible for the parties to agree that Brain Aneurysms Are Bad. Of course, in September of 2019, I was still a couple of months away from being forced to pay attention to such things … 🤷♂️
In 2020 I guess it has only been designated as such in a few states, but you can read more about National Brain Aneurysm Awareness Month here.
Continue reading “September is National Brain Aneurysm Awareness Month”A Six-Month Semi-Versary
So this week (Thursday, specifically) marks six months since The Event, when an undetected 3mm aneurysm at the base of my brain ruptured on November 7, 2019, causing a serious subarachnoid hemorrhage (SAH) and putting me in the hospital for about two weeks, most of that time in ICU. After being released, I spent the next couple of months recovering at home and returned to work on January 2, 2020. Also in January, my wife and I started going to our local dance studio again, and I resumed exercising and most of my other normal activities, at least until California shut down due to the coronavirus about six weeks ago.
A Public Service Announcement
So I was talking this week with my parents, who remember the polio epidemics of the 40s and 50s. Each summer the virus would flare up in different cities and regions. When there were outbreaks in a particular locality, movie theaters and bowling alleys would shut down, and swimming pools and beaches would be closed. It seems to me the present situation is not unlike a polio outbreak where the air is a swimming pool, the entire country is a movie theater.
The Event, Part 5
Saturday 11/16/2019 – Monday 11/18/2019: Telemetry
Once I was well enough to leave ICU, the hospital transferred me to the “step-down unit”, also called Telemetry. (If you never heard of a unit called “Telemetry”, you’re not the only one.) I was moved by wheelchair on Saturday evening, schlepping most of my stuff—my blanket and pillow from home, the get well cards I had accumulated, the posters made by our friends’ daughter, pictures of the animals, and, of course, Substitute Charlee—on my lap. The rest of the stuff was transported in a bag by a courier, A.K.A. my wife.
