Another Birthday, A Promising Path.

Yeah! I made it. Another birthday. Another year.
But it is getting harder to hang in there.

I am falling behind in the race to survive. I want to walk as far as my feet will carry me, sing as loud as my voice will rise and write as fast as I can before I am gone.

From the top of my skull to the tip of my toes, my body has taken a beating. But, I keep waving the warrior flag and drawing on the strength of my ancestors. I could have, should have, would have died after a rabid skunk bite as a toddler, after a neck breaking fall off a bicycle in Germany, after flipping out of a car speeding down the freeway in France, after splitting my skull in a bad fall at home in Switzerland.

Yet, for some reason, I am still here for another spin around the sun!

Ever the great pretender, I fake my way forward — tackling Lyme’s disease, environmental illness and more accidents than I can count.

I endure physical ailments with self-discipline and endless rehabilitation - physical therapy, chiropractic treatment, massage, heat, ice and talk therapy.

I fought back from broken bones, but how do you recover from a busted brain?

How do I manage a mind that misfires from damage to the frontal lobe, the mastermind that pulls the strings in the back of the brain that fulfills all human functions?

For the past five years, unable to filter sounds, lights, voices, commotion and to curtail the cacophony of background noise that is the essence of life, I hide in a dark, quiet room. I avoid the masses and loud places - stores, arenas, theaters, restaurants, events and situations that create sensory overload.

Brain activity analysis

I wanted to give up. The Functional Neurology Center gave me hope. After their high- tech diagnosis, I attended an intensive week of therapy, a Boot Camp for the brain.

I rode in my “space ship,” the GyroStim. It’s a state of the art, multi-axis rotating chair that works with balance, cognitive and sensory integration and affects proprioception. I underwent Virtual Reality training to rehabilitate balance dysfunction. I zapped pain with Accelerated Recovery and Performance (ARPWave) Neurotherapy and Cranial low level laser treatments. I repeated exercises, inhaled Molecular Hydrogen and completed therapies so bizarre, it felt like sci-fi.

I learned our brains are marvelous mysteries; specialists are understanding more about neuroplasticity every day. FNC is the way of the future.

“Neuroplasticity is the ability of the nervous system to change its activity in response to intrinsic or extrinsic stimuli by reorganizing its structure, functions, or connections after injuries, such as a stroke or traumatic brain injury (TBI)".

As I struggle to retrain my left side, jump start my cerebellum, and control my frontal lobe, I work just as hard to reset my attitude.

I am an athlete. I may be broken down, worn-out, defective, but I still “run.”

I accept that I may be in training forever in the only game that matters - life.

With age, injury and illness the body weakens, but the spirit grows strong. I get fed up living in this shit shell of a body, but by golly my soul shines on.

In my dance with death, I appreciate better than most that I am living on borrowed time - we all are.

I should be 6 feet under, instead when dawn breaks every morning, I take a deep breath and whisper, “I am strong. I am grateful. I am here.”

Another Accident? In a Doctor’s Office? You kidding?

Another day, another doc.

Another accident? At the doctor's office? You kidding?

What kind of a klutz am I? Was I born accident prone? Or does it go back to bad balance at my base, from toes, so crooked I could hang by them from a tree.

Who gets taken out by a treadmill in the doc office at the hospital?

At a routine checkup, I mentioned shortness of breath. My primary doctor heard a heart murmur. She insisted I follow up with a cardiologist. Pronto. Eight months later, (you know how long it takes to get an appointment with a specialist) I finally got in with the specialist.

After an EKG and a battery of tests, the cardiologists diagnosed arrhythmia in the upper and lower chambers of the heart. Then she wanted me to take a stress test and walk on a treadmill.

“I need to measure your heart beat under exertion,” she explained as she hooked me up. “Every three minutes, I will increase the speed and incline on the treadmill.”

The first six minutes, I was fine and feeling chuffed to bits. Then at the nine minute level, she cranked up thetempo.

“You still doing okay?” she asked.

“Un huh,” I grunted, huffing and puffing like a steam engine, feeling light-headed and wobbly and cursing myself. (Ever the damn athlete still competing for a better time, I continued gasping for oxygen.)

That’s enough!” the doc exclaimed, “we’ll stop here!”

I stopped.

The treadmill did not.

Before I had time to react, my feet splayed out from under me and my body pitched forward. I hit my chin, my forearms, my elbow and my knees on the rubber mat that kept rotating.

Nooooo, I’m going to be sucked up by the roller.

“Oh no, sorry madame, sorry,” the doctor said. “I am not sure how that happened."

“I’m okay,” I gasped feeling mortified. Who the heck face plants on a treadmill at the cardiologist’s?

After profuse apologies, the doctor sat me on her exam table and told me, “calm down and raise your arm.”

As she fitted the blood pressure cuff, she explained, “I need to record one more reading”.

Of course doc, my BP is too high right now, I wanted to tell her. I just survived a near death experience.

What? Am I hearing clearly. She wants further investigation.

“I am going to set you up for a heart CAT scan to check the valves and heart function and to rule out coronary artery disease,” the cardiologist said, “Don’t worry, this is routine procedure.”

Sure for someone who flunked the treadmill test.

Now once again, I have to squeeze into a white cylinder the size of a toilet paper roll.

Necessary? Really? After a life time of X-rays from accidents and injuries, I am pretty sure, I glow in dark.

“Seriously, doc, “ I lament. “I don’t need more tests. I know why I am short of breath. “You try keeping up with a sixty-nine-year-old Frenchman, who thinks he is 20!”

“Yep, typical,” the hubby says, “Throws her mate under the bus.”

Again!

It Only Takes One Bite

Keep Walking

“I considered my options
There was only one I knew
There was always only one.

To keep walking.”

from Brave Enough by Cheryl Strayed

So simple, yet so profound. Trapped in my royal blue funk, regretting, lamenting, mourning for all the things I can no longer do, I take comfort in the words of a woman who walked the Pacific North Trail solo and chronicled her journey in her best selling memoir Wild.

I can’t ski, skate, bike, play basketball, or pickle ball or any kind of ball game. I can’t hop, skip, or jump. But I can stand tall. Shoulders back, chin up, head high. I can put one foot in front of the other.

Why is that so hard to do? I feel like rigor mortis set in while I sleep. When I wake up each morning, I am caught by surprise. So I roll out of bed, crawl onto my yoga mat, stretch my stiff limbs and marvel.

I am still here.

Alive.

Each new day is a clean slate. A chance to get it right.

I remember to smile, be kind, offer encouragement. Someone else is in much worse shape, facing far greater trials, struggling to survive in tougher circumstances.

Today I had an epiphany.

I am an athlete. Still. Only now I am training for life.
Though I will never again play my beloved ball games, I can raise my arms, clap my hands, stomp my feet, wiggle my hips, shake my booty. I can still dance.

I inherited the iron will of my ancestors whose footprints I try so hard to emulate in spite of setbacks.

My father and grandfather, good sportsmen, great coaches, dedicated their lives to helping others find their way and offered me stellar examples of resiliency. They remained athletes at heart, determined to stay as active as their bodies would allow until their final hours.

I can still move.

I may be slower, stiffer, clumsier, but I can sit, stand and even roll over like Rover.

I’m lucky to be here!

Right now.

Today.

We, human beings, take so much for granted until it’s gone.

Aging can be a losing game. Combined with bad luck, terrible accidents, and bizarre ailments, no one can perceive what challenges await.

Today is our only guarantee.

Seize the moment.

Be brave enough to take another step.

As a child I hated to walk, I would rather run. Walking was too slow, too boring. Now walking saves my soul.

We are all just walking and walking, trying our best to find our way.

To stay the course.

To step forward.

To believe.

Eventually all roads lead to the mountaintop.

If the Global Pandemic is Over Why Do I Still Have COVID?

Every action from brushing my teeth, to getting dressed, to sitting at the table wears me out. I have muscle aches, headaches, air hunger, tightness in the chest, and shortness of breath. I force myself to walk everyday gasping for air at every incline as though I have run up the mountain.

My doctors surmised that I have lingering COVID or what is called long haul COVID. The illness also robbed me of my sense of taste and smell. How cruel, especially when I have the great fortune of being married to a French chef. Yet in comparison to others, my complaints are minor.

In August, our son contracted COVID and he suggested we test. My husband, who barely felt ill, tested positive. I had all the symptoms, but tested negative until 5 days later.

Luckily, I have an expert resource for up to date, accurate information about COVID. My friend, Jono Quick, is a public health specialist, who dedicated his career to focusing on global health security. An internationally known global health leader, Jonathan (“Jono”) D. Quick, MD, MPH wrote in 2018 The End of Epidemics: The Looming Threat to Humanity and How to Stop It that eerily forecasted this dreadful fallout of a pandemic. The former director of Essential Drugs and Medicines Policy for the World Health Organization (WHO) in Geneva was part of Dr. Fauci’s think tank committee at the outbreak of the COVID epidemic.

In August, when I tested positive, I called him. “Over half the population has the virus and is asymptomatic,” he told me, “Or they mistakenly believe it is only the common cold.”

He emphasized the importance of isolation during the illness and protecting others. Misconceptions abound making this issue more confusing.There is so much we don’t understand yet, COVID has only been here for 2 years, which is a very short period for scientific knowledge.

How do we protect ourselves and others when the guidelines keep changing?

Dr. Quick stated that these recommendations still hold true.

Mask up! But only KN95 or N95 masks are efficient against Omicron.
Ventilate, ventilate, ventilate - the virus hangs around indoors.
Respect a safe a distance in public spaces
Remember that the risk is higher if your immune system is weaker. Even if you already had Omicron and have been vaccinated, you still risk getting it again, because immunity wanes over time.
Keep your vaccine updated. The good news is that the vaccine protects you against the most severe forms of the illness.

People are sick of COVID protocols. With lower viral levels during the summer months, European countries lifted flying bans and border entry restrictions. Everyone enjoyed more freedom to travel, but it has never been without risks. With winter approaching, experts sound alarms again. If the rising European rates are a forewarning, as they have been in the past, Americans could be next.

Omicron BA. 4/5 variants plagued us this summer, but the WHO has been continually tracking hundreds of new variants. An 8th wave of infections threatens the European continent. A new variant labeled Centaure, first discovered in India and recently identified here, could hit hard this winter

What about patients like me with immunocompromised systems that still suffer from symptoms?

A recent Scottish study, one of the largest on long COVID, found that nearly half of COVID cases had not fully recovered more than six months after the infection.

According to my neurologist and ENT in Switzerland, the low energy, loss of taste and smell can take up to 18 months to recover from.

Meanwhile the World Health Organization and the European Centre for Disease Prevention and Control have noted rising COVID cases and hospitalization across Europe.

Pretending it doesn’t matter because cases are milder now than before is a lame excuse. COVID exposure is like playing Russian roulette. Depending on one’s age, immune system status and other extenuating health circumstances, the results of an infection can be catastrophic and even deadly.

Most members of my immediate family have had milder cases of COVID, but I have lost 2 uncles, (in the USA and France) to this horrible disease. I struggle to fully recover after 3 months; my French sister-in-law still battles complications of post COVID lung inflammation.

America prides itself on freedom, which we all value. But how can the right to carry a gun in public be more widely tolerated than accepting the “inconvenience” of wearing a mask to help prevent oneself and others from contracting a life threatening illness?

Please don’t criticize, belittle or judge anyone who chooses to adhere the guidelines that we cannot afford to ignore.

“Error on the side of caution,” Dr. Quick suggested. “Don’t take risks. Don’t compromise safety yourself or others.”

Cancer Stole My Friend Too Soon

My friend died last weekend. My heart is heavy. Christine was such a beautiful soul. Thoughtful, kind, warmhearted. Far too young to part already. She leaves behind 3 children - beautiful reflections of herself -whom I had the privilege of teaching.

Cancer crept up insidiously. She had shortness of breath. She felt run down.

Aren’t all dedicated teachers?

She left school one day for a doctor’s appointment; she never came back to class. Instead she went to war in the cancer ward. The diagnosis. The deception. The despair. The carnage. The crusade.

She fought her battle against leukemia so gallantly. After the first rounds of hospitalizations and chemotherapy, she went into remission. When cancer reared its ugly head again, she returned to battle. Her sister selflessly donated her bone marrow for a replacement. More hospitalizations. More isolation. More pain. More anxiety. More anguish.

How hard to believe you are getting better when your body weakens from the endless fight?

All that effort bought her a little more time before she succumbed to an infection that attacked her heart. Her heart. Her generous, loving heart.

Who among us has never lost a loved one to disease?

Cancer is especially cruel. It attacks the self. It can only be beat-sometimes just temporarily - by knocking out the immune system leaving the victim vulnerable to the very air breathed.

She left us with a bittersweet reminder we only have today. And treasured memories.

I have so many. She once baked my favorite carrot cake and brought it to our department meeting for my birthday. When I couldn’t drive, she picked me and took me to one of my retirement parties. Years later, wearing a knitted cap to hide her bald head, she swooped in to carry me off for coffee where we lamented our fight to survive.

After my brain surgery, I looked to her for inspiration. I saw how hard she fought with so much grace and dignity. I thought if she can prevail, so can I. And so we faced another day.

Until we didn’t.

Now she is no longer here. A good person gone too soon. I never had the chance to say goodbye.

She lent me books and lesson plans, shared smiles and stories, offered rides and meals. She gave me laughter and joy.

She brightened my days.

Now I mourn for her children, her husband, her sister, her parents, her colleagues and friends, all who feel her passing as an ache that will not subside.

I miss her already.

Rest in peace dear friend.

You left behind the best kind of legacy.

You were greatly loved.