Seizures

A few weeks ago, Danny and I grabbed a few copies of files from my medical file at the UW. In the paperwork, the doctors stressed the high probability of seizures. In fact, seizures are typically the first symptom of my type of brain tumor. Reading about the seriousness of a possible seizure on paper was sobering. It's one thing to have a verbal warning, and it's a completely different thing to read it from your file.

In the documentation the radiation oncologist said, "She understands that if she is to suffer a seizure that she would be restarted on this medicine, or a similar one, and that she would likely be taking that for the rest of her life. Furthermore, she understands that in the event of seizure activity, she could not drive for six months afterward."

Since I had to take seizure medicine for weeks before and months after the surgery, I'm acutely aware of the side affects. In fact, at the time of this documentation, I was still on the anti-seizure medication. Here's more which I found kind of funny, "Her parents and significant other, who accompany her today, state that she's been more irritable than usual, and endorse that she acts as though she has a 'shorter fuse.' She states that she has not acted out against anybody, however generally feels that she has less patience and notes that she used the phrase "I want to kick a puppy," for the first time in her life a few weeks ago. She is uncertain what precipitated that statement, though generally she is concerned that she is 'not acting like herself.' "

So there you go. I remember taking that horrible medicine. It caused irritability, which isn't something that I normally have to deal with. I dread and fear the onset of seizures. Although the doctors said that since I haven't had any seizures, it is probably unlikely that I will have them. And though that is reassuring, I feel like there are no guarantees in life. I've seen enough surprises to knock me off my feet.

After reading that document a couple of weeks ago, I started subconsciously tapering off my running. I got scared. I don't want to lose my independence, or my positive attitude. Those are two things that I can't live without.

Luckily, with all things, I have a tendency to get scared and analyze the situation, and then I get back up on my feet. I ran twice before the run last Saturday, and I got back into the gym Monday, and Tuesday. Today, I'll do it again. It's the only thing that keeps me sane. I've even been working on my man push-ups. I've gotten up to 12 at a time. I'm hitting about 25 man push-ups a day. My goal is to 100 a day (it doesn't have to be all at once). It's a little thing that I can do when I'm stressed. I do them in the kitchen, in my office, even in the bathroom. I once bet my friends Matt and AJ that I could do 10 man push-ups in the middle of their going away party at Brouwers in Freemont. It's a real crowd pleaser.

Anyway, I get scared sometimes, but I'm not going to let my fears define me.

One Week

At this time exactly, next week, I'll be meeting with my radiation oncologist receiving the news of my MRI results. I'm anxious, and nervous, and excited, all at the same time. Good thing it's a running day. I need to blow off some steam!

Leavenworth Marathon Relay

This past weekend was our annual team relay, the Leavenworth Oktoberfest Marathon. First thing in the morning, our carpool of racers dropped off Michelle and I to pick up the packet, and get her to the starting point (she was the first leg of the race). Walking through the madness, I ran into Steve, the editor from the Wenatchee World who wrote a pretty amazing article about me (which I feel was too nice). It was wonderful to see him, and I gave him a huge hug. He instantly said, "Hey, have you met Ted's wife Lynda?" I shook her hand, and almost stopped breathing. I was so honored to meet her. It was a simple, quick greeting, and we were both on our way. That chance meeting set the tone for the entire race for me. 

Side note: Ted Finegold and a buddy started the Leavenworth Marathon and Wenatchee Marathon. He was also an attorney that worked with my girlfriends here in Wenatchee, and a close family friend of another of my girlfriends. He passed away this summer after losing his battle with cancer. Everyone I know from Wenatchee has at least one story about how amazing Ted was. Even though I wasn't lucky enough to have met him, I've definitely been inspired by him. Here's a wonderful article about Ted to know more about who he was.

Last year, during the relay, our group was a wild tornado of adrenaline and debauchery. I think costumes have a way of doing that to a person. This year, my life is completely different. As I was running the second leg of the race, looking around at the "Ted" shirts, was overwhelming. Before I knew it, I was crying as I ran. I couldn't help it.  

I was incredibly touched by a man who had impacted hundreds, even thousands of people. He was young, only 43. He had a family, two children, and an absolutely gorgeous wife (from what I hear she's beautiful in personality too). The t-shirts that my friends were wearing said, "I run for Ted," and as I saw another shirt along the trail, I thought, "You know what Ted, you don't know me, but I'm running for you too. And your wife. And your children." Then I started to cry again.

There are people who don't even know that they're impacting the lives of others. I've ran in six of Ted's races, and at the time, I had no idea who he was. I'll never forget how powerful life is, and how powerful his life was. I'm incredibly grateful for Ted's life. His story is an inspiration to me. 

After running my leg of the race, I was standing with a group of friends cheering on the runners. I happened to look over, and see Lynda walking away hand-in-hand with her child; it absolutely broke my heart. In fact, it made me start crying again. I wish there was no such thing as loss. I wish that people didn't disappear so soon. I can't even fathom how hard that would be.

 

Operation Grab-A-Stein

My Wenatchee Girls