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Established April 15, 1995
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20 January 2002
My name is Allison. I am 34 years old. Five years ago today (January 20, 2002) I was in the intensive care recovery room wiggling all my fingers and toes, trying to make the ceiling stop bouncing, and wondering if this was heaven or hell.
Aneurysms are a pretty unbelievable thing. To think that in a split second I could have been dead is a pretty life-altering and humbling experience that I will reflect upon every day for the rest of my life. In a moment of that reflection, about 3 years ago while at work, I happened upon this page, and it has been a source of knowledge, emotion, and sympathy for me ever since.
I don't know why I never put my story in before. I think about it every time I come to the site. There was something about this being my 5 year anniversary that finally made me think maybe someone would be interested in hearing my story. Or maybe I could put something to rest by writing it. Maybe because I have such a happy ending made me think my story wasn't worthy. Whatever the case, here it is!
For about 6 months before I was diagnosed, I had been having a really loud noise in my right ear. It was as if I could hear the blood pumping through my head at all times. It was so loud that sometimes if I put my ear right up against my husband's, he could actually hear it. I knew there was something wrong, and it was making me insane because every ear nose and throat doctor I went to kept telling me that I was fine and that it was Tinnitus, an unexplainable noise in the head that can't be treated.
Like a lunatic, I kept going to doctors to try and find some relief (white noise therapy, vitamins, holistic nonsense), until one doctor finally had the sense to send me for an MRI with contrast. I think just to shut me up!
At this time in our lives, my husband Dean and I had been married for three years. He was working in Florida five days out of the week temporarily, and the schedule was nuts. I was singing in a very busy wedding band. He was in the process of setting up a project that would eventually bring him back to NY.
We had had trouble conceiving, so we were also in the process of testing to see if we were candidates for in vitro fertilization. One day he called in the middle of the day to ask me to pick him up from the train station. When I got there, he told me that he had just been let go because the project he was working on had lost its funding. We were pretty devastated.
When we got home, there was a message from the doctor on the machine. I called back, and the doctor got on the phone to tell me that (get this) he had no idea what the noise in my head was, but that I had a berry aneurysm that was about to burst at any moment...that I was "a walking time bomb" and that I should find a neurosurgeon immediately.
He also told me I had better quit smoking on the spot and never pick one up again. (I did) He then told me that singing was a very bad idea because the pressure could make it burst...(that would be a fine how do you do at someone's wedding during the first dance!)
When I look back on it now, I don't know how the stress of that phone call didn't make me burst right then and there. Talk about bad bedside manner...sheesh! (I've since written a letter to him advising him to use a different method to get his point across if ever he needs to explain anything of that magnitude to a patient again)
In any case, after I stopped freaking out, we got on the phone immediately. Unfortunately, Dean's parents had been ill for many years, and had died shortly before that time (first his Mom, then his Dad.) But because of their illnesses, Dean had been in contact with a number of excellent physicians. It was through them that we were referred to the doctor we used.
Thank God that when I had quit my job months before (thinking that Dean's great new job was our end-all), I had kept up the Cobra payments, otherwise we would have been in deep... !!!
So I went to see the doctor, and he immediately set up an Angiogram. He told me he had to find out the size of it, and that my age and the fact that it hadn't ruptured yet were very much in my favor. However, it's location (behind my left eye), was pretty difficult to get to. He said that if it had burst, that the time it would take to get to it would have been my demise.
He told me that if it wasn't big enough, that he would leave it alone, monitor it, and advise me to lead what he called a "modified" life style...which included no sex, no strenuous activity, no childbearing (of course at this time we were forced to cease all efforts for in vitro - we just thank God I hadn't gotten pregnant at the time), and no singing. This type of life wasn't an option for me, so I was actually, believe it or not, kind of glad when we found out the aneurysm was pretty big and required immediate surgery.
Before I talk about that, I want to tell you about the Angiogram. People have told me that they are a piece of cake. No problem. But when I went in, I was unaware that the people they were using to insert the thing were MEDICAL STUDENTS. It took 3 kids (kids...they were about my age at the time), about 45 minutes to poke and prod me before I finally screamed loud enough and threatened to get off the table and walk into the hall bare-assed yelling for help. THEN they finally brought in a real doctor. He came in and put the thing in 1 2 3. No sweat. I couldn't believe it... So a word to the wise...make sure you know that the person giving you the Angiogram has done it many times before without incident, and that no students work on you.
So they find it, and it's big, and yadda yadda yadda, they set me up for surgery. The doctor I was using was all booked up, so I had to wait the longest 3 weeks of my life (during which Christmas took place) for the surgery.
Let me tell you, those were some hard days. I freaked every time I had to sneeze, go to the bathroom, loud noise...anything. So there were were...both unemployed, no babies, facing the unthinkable. We watched movies in the dark day in and day out as I looked at the Christmas decorations and cried thinking that next year Dean might have to put them up alone... I prayed like I never prayed before. I had gone to 8 years of Catholic school as a kid, and had since stopped going to church. Man let me tell you...I never prayed so selfishly in my life.
The support from my family and friends was unbelievable.
The love my husband showed to me was and is to this day, the lifesaving beauty of my existence. He never failed to support me, care for me, cheer me, hold me, praise me for my bravery, (what choice did I have?), and just look at me with understanding in those beautiful brown eyes. I knew that if this was it for me, that I had at least loved completely in my life and I guess that's more than anyone can ask for.
When I went into the hospital, there were about 20 of my friends and family there waiting for me! Including my parents, who had divorced 4 years earlier (after a 35 year marriage) and hadn't spoken or seen each other in all that time. While I was waiting to go in, they had me in the gown, watching America's Funniest Home Videos (I still hate Bob Saget), with both my parents holding each hand, and my husband. It was a moment I'll never forget and can't explain.
So a three hour operation turned into 8 1/2. My husband almost ran into the room to see what was going on. I apparently had a bleed during the procedure (clipping), and it was touch and go for a while, but I came out OK. (Wooohoooo!)
I woke up to kisses from my husband, and the faces of my parents and friends. I answered the questions and had no vasospasms. I didn't process the pain medicine very well because I was "backed up" and began vomiting, so I had to have an enema (THAT was a treat).
They had shaved off 1/4 of my waist length blonde hair...and I was happy to see it go if it meant saving my life. My friends called me "Frankenhead" because of the 65 plus staples. They had a pizza party in my room as I drooled on the pillow, happily listening to the sounds of familiar voices and reveling in the fact that I was alive.
I've had no depression since. Actually, I was on meds for depression and anxiety before the operation. Almost losing my life cured me of that crap, and I am now able to let myself feel the little hurts and know I've overcome something so monumental that no little annoyance could ever compare.
When I had the operation In January, I was 29. My birthday was in February. I don't think any girl has ever been happier to turn 30!
Through some vision tests, they found that I had lost 1/4 of my vision in my left eye (it was a few months of bumping into things...I still do sometimes, but I have adjusted.) They also found through another painful Angiogram that part of my left carotid artery is collapsed and no longer works. The doctor told me that the carotid artery is shaped like a Y and that one of the arms collapsed.
If it had been the other arm, I would have lost all facial movement. He said that I was a one in a million case in that the right side of my head took over pumping blood for the left...and that they thought I would have had a stroke or at the very least worse complications than I was having.
I attribute it to God and the love of my family and friends. I've been on this site and remember thinking that an awful lot of people on the site seem to be a bit "holy rollerish", but in writing down the story, it makes me remember what a big part and what a comfort praying to God, lighting candles, and talking to a priest really was.
I know I've rambled on. I know this is a long entry. I'm just glad that I'm still here 5 years later to be able to write down my story. Like I said, I know in comparison, that my story is the best possible scenario, but it really put life into perspective for me.
Dean and I have gotten our financial life back on track. We look at him losing his job at that point in time as a blessing. Because if he hadn't, he wouldn't have been able to be there for me during the time I needed him most (unless he quit...then there would have been no severance!).
He has since opened his own Pharmaceutical Recruiting business. He's doing well. I am now working for a large cell phone company. I don't sing at weddings anymore (thank God), I am now singing jazz at night and on weekends, and I'm in the process of completing my first album. The first copy of which goes directly to the doctor that performed my surgery for saving my life and giving me a second chance.
We will be going back to the in vitro doctor soon to resume the process of trying to put a bun in the oven. Has anyone out there had babies post-op? I wonder about the safety of it. I have nightmares of the clip popping off during labor etc. Let me know if there is any info.
By the way, the noise in my ear is still there from time to time. The doctors still can't find a reason for it. I consider it to be the music that was my warning.
I continue to marvel at today's technology and the resiliency of the human soul. I send you all thoughts of peace and health. I hope you can find your reasons and your solutions, and I hope you can all share an anniversary like me.
I'm going out to dinner now to celebrate! Peace!
Update: 28 July 2009
The years that have passed since my last posting have been kind to me. I continue to be blessed with little or no side effects (aside from the vision loss and collapsed carotid which requires annual checkups).
After stopping in-vitro attempts because of the aneurysm, and then financial difficulties, we finally resumed our attempts. After more than 10 years of trying, God finally gave us one of his angels to love and raise. Her name is Anastasia (which means resurrection). We chose her name as a tribute to the second chance at life I was given, as well as to show the world that we viewed her arrival as a new beginning. She is now 3 years old and is the love of our lives.
With those same thoughts in mind, I also named my first album (and only to date) "Second Chances".
I believe everyone that goes through a life-changing event such as the ones we have seen are forced to view the world and what it gives us in a new way.
I continue to be thankful for every moment I get to spend with those I love and wish you all health love and happiness!
© Copyright 2002 Allison Paris
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