[past] in the [present]: 8 years

Time will heal me.

I used to be certain of that. Not heal me heal me, like being able to run and jump and play softball again; but at least help lessen the intensity of my memories and the anxiety associated with February 21, 2011 and the months that followed.

I keep hoping for this to happen. It hasn’t.

But maybe that’s how trauma stays with you; like looking in the rear view mirror expecting an object to get smaller as you drive away, only to realize the object is actually a trailer you’re hauling behind your car. No amount of time or distance will separate you from it, because you’re carrying it. No amount of time or distance seems to separate me from the feelings and emotions of the day I had a stroke.

Eight years later, I have recovered remarkably well from where I started with half my body paralyzed on the side of a mountain. Physically speaking — the part of my recovery that is visible to everybody — I’m functional and healthy. I am beyond grateful for that!

My emotional recovery has been much more difficult and protracted. The last couple of years in particular have been extremely challenging in terms of my mental health. From working with some amazing trauma counselors, I have realized how significantly my stroke impacts my ability to feel secure and safe in my body each and every day. Since something that wasn’t likely to happen to me actually happened, how can I ever feel healthy? If I didn’t know I had a brain tumor, what might be going on in my body now?

Something I’ve been working through recently is the blame I have placed on myself for not knowing I had a brain tumor. Because I feel like I missed that, I am always on constant high alert looking for other problems with my body — so I’m not surprised again. The problem with this is, hindsight is always 20/20. What if I didn’t miss anything? What if there was no way I could have known I had a tumor or could have prevented my stroke? After all these years, what if I have been blaming myself for doing nothing wrong?

If I could chat with my pre-stroke self, I would share these insights I am finally learning in hopes that she (23-year-old me) would place blame where it was really due: nowhere. Maybe, then, she wouldn’t spend years constantly thinking that her health is hers to control or lose. And maybe, now, I can reorient my perception of what happened and realize that I’m in control of a lot less than I think I am — and that’s ok. If I could chat with my pre-stroke self, this is what I’d say.

January 2011

Ashley, 

Before you leave to go snowboarding today, there are some things I’d like to tell you. Things, if you knew, would help so much in the journey that’s about to begin. I would have told you sooner, but I’m still learning, too.

Today, February 21, 2011, will change your life in many ways. Over the next 8 years, you will blame yourself for what happens. You will question and doubt yourself relentlessly, insisting that you should have known what tomorrow will bring. That you should have seen the signs. That, had you paid more attention, you might have known what to expect. That maybe you could have even taken a different path.

Ashley, please know that, right now, you are doing everything right. You are taking care of yourself beautifully. You are not being careless or brushing off concerns. There are no gut instincts you are ignoring. You are not missing signs — because there aren’t any. You have always been very self-aware, and if anybody would notice something, you would. But there is nothing to notice. You are taking the information you have now and making wise decisions based on what you know. I do not and cannot blame you for the information you do not have.

People will ask you a lot of questions over the next several years that will make you think you should have seen something. They will tell you most people see the signs. You will wonder why you didn’t. When you hear these inquiries, please know they are not an indictment of your ability to care for yourself. Believe instead that you were, are, and always will be the best person to guide and protect yourself. You are wise. You are capable. And, above all, you are His.

Today is a big day, but you are ready. You already know everything you need to know, and Heavenly Father will help you with the rest. Believe this.

I will try to believe it, too.

[present]: the storm

One of the first things I learned about my anxiety disorders is their common characteristic of waxing and waning, coming and going:

Kindergarten was rough, but first grade was much better.

Fifth and sixth grades were challenging, but certainly a reprieve from what I experienced in second, third, and fourth.

This has continued up through my adult life, which has meant that I have had many periods -- whether days, weeks, months, or years -- when panic attacks, OCD, and depression have loomed large. But, eventually the tide always goes out, my symptoms lessen (they never fully leave), and I feel more able to manage my disease.
While I can easily recognize where I am in the continual waxing and waning pattern, I know this concept can be foreign to others and can make those around me have difficulty understanding why and how.

Why was she able to work full-time, handle multiple responsibilities, and be so fun-loving just a couple years ago?

How did things change to where now even being home or going to the store by herself is daunting?

Why was she so functional before and now is just trying to survive?

How long will this last?

And especially: How can she be struggling so much when it so clearly seems she has her life together, or at least did not too long ago?

I wrote this poem during a current panic disorder “waxing” period that has lasted for nearly two years now -- the longest and most difficult stretch for several years. I wrote this because I know it must be confusing and frustrating for my family, friends, coworkers, and others to experience such drastically different versions of me, without any obvious reason for the change.

I wrote this because, regardless of what they understood of me before, this is what I need them to understand right now.

There's a Storm in My Mind

There’s a storm in my mind and I need you to know.

It’s a bad one; I wasn’t prepared

For how aggressive, how long, and how loud it would be;

For how exhausted I’d be, and how scared.

I’ve weathered this before, but each time until now,

I always trusted the clouds would part.

This storm is different, the forecast is bleak in my soul.

Just when I think it will end, it restarts.

I promise I’m trying, I’m doing all I can

To keep the wind from breaching my door.

Yet so much of how I used to be, feel, and do

It has carried away with a roar.

So often I think of the relief that would come

If I just let the floodwaters rise.

Let them come, swallow my house with a rush,

Blend in with the tears from my eyes.

Yet there’s a part of me that remembers the sun,

How it can feel -- the warmth and the peace.

And so I continue to board up the doors,

Breathe deep, and pray for the tempest to cease.

I know you can’t see it, this storm in my mind,

But you can see the gloom it has cast.

I’m no longer reliable, go-getting, or social;

No longer the “me” from the the past.

So even if the lightning never reaches your eyes,

Believe that, for me, each flash is real.

That even if my home looks dry in your view,

It’s very wet, this water I feel.

I don’t know how long this storm will rage on,

So please be patient with me as I wait.

When I let you down more times than I’d like,

Please understand: for now, the thunder’s too great.

[present]: six

I had a stroke again yesterday.

And the day before that. And almost every day for the past 6 years.

If it’s not a stroke, I have another brain tumor or some other disease I’m probably too young to have, but who knows I mean look at my track record.

So I test my right arm and leg. Can I oppose all my fingers in quick succession? Have I lost any feeling? I ask Troy to do a neuro exam on me. Is the right side of my face drooping? I check my pupils for reactivity to light. Are they equal? I squeeze my right hand as hard as I can. Am I losing strength? I touch the scarred divot on my skull. Is it less indented because pressure in my brain is increasing? I see if I can close my right eye, because I couldn’t do that after the stroke. I frantically check and double check it all BECAUSE IT’S HAPPENING AGAIN.

At least that’s what it feels like.

If you know me or have read my blog before, you know that I have had severe anxiety/OCD issues since I was in kindergarten. That was my life’s “big trial” -- or so I thought. When the stroke happened, my coping skills were turned upside down. I realized I could no longer rationalize my way out of anxiety or a panic attack with the mantra I had used since childhood: What you’re afraid of isn’t going to actually happen! It never does! This no longer works, because, well, it did happen. I did have a life-altering medical emergency. I did lose control of my body. I did almost die. So, how do I cope now?

Answer: not particularly well.

It could be that I am currently in a darker place than normal with my anxiety being at its worst in 6 years, but lately I’ve been struggling with the aspects of my stroke recovery that have nothing to do with the physical. In fact, the mental and emotional fallout has far and away been the worst part of this whole experience. Because of my pre-existing anxiety and my mind’s penchant for ruminating on fear, I have been unable to leave That President’s Day behind me.

Not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about or revisited the moment I suddenly lost feeling and movement on my right side, or the terrifying days that followed. Some days it’s just a passing thought. I’m so glad I had the ability to call for help. I can’t believe I survived. Wow, that really happened? Many times, however -- especially lately -- my thoughts and memories about those events are so obsessive and strong that I physically feel my right side going numb, or tingling, or not moving like it should. It feels 100% real, even though it’s not.

In so many wonderful ways, I am far removed from my stroke. I am walking. I can use my arm. I can dress, bathe, and toilet myself. I can even drive and work. By all accounts, my physical recovery, the recovery people can see, has been incredible -- and I am indescribably thankful! I may never run or skip or jump or play sports or act again. But physically, February 21, 2011 feels like a long time ago.

Mentally and emotionally, though, it feels like almost no time has passed.

Neurological injury and mental illness have a lot in common. One true fact about both of them is that recovery is not finite or a discrete event. It’s a lifelong deal, and it may never be "complete."

So, while I have achieved the majority of what my damaged brain will allow physically, I still have a ways to go before I’m where I want to be mentally. I am realizing that, while the stroke was terribly difficult, the anxiety/OCD/PTSD/depression is still my life’s “big trial.” Even if a million other horrible things happen to me, the anxiety will always make things a million times worse. That’s just what it does.

I am trying. Every day is a challenge, and some days I don’t think I’ll ever make it. And the truth is, things have gotten so bad that I won’t make it -- at least not on my own. So, I am asking the Savior to help me bear this burden. He said:

Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.
For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.
(Matthew 11:28-30)

I believe Him. He has performed many miracles for me. I know He will help me still. With His love and grace, I will one day feel at peace with February 21, 2011.

[past & present] 4 years?! 4 real.

yesterday marked four whole years since my stroke! that's a presidential term. an undergraduate degree. twenty eight dog years. the amount of time between decent Arizona Diamondbacks teams. wow. 

since 2011, this time of year is filled with a lot of contemplation and gratitude, a little bit of sadness, and not a little bit of anxiety. contemplation of, and gratitude for, the blessings and miracles that allow me to be alive and as functional as i am today; sadness and mourning for the old Ashley and what she used to be able to do that she can no longer; and anxiety about having another stroke, my brain tumor regrowing, the constant possibly of another health crisis and countless other worries. 

to celebrate my strokeiversary, Troy and i spent the day being as active as i've been in a long time. i am physically a lot weaker than i was before my stroke, so i wanted to feel my muscles moving and my heart pumping as close to like the old days as possible. i woke up and stretched, did some ab and arm exercises, rode my sweet trike down the canal path to a nearby park (3.5 miles roundtrip - holla!) and played catch and hit some whiffle balls with Troy. 

note: after yesterday's activities, i am so sore today. oh. my. gosh.

if you knew me before my stroke, you would know i loved playing softball, and consequently, it is one of the things i miss the very most. my right arm gets really tight with any fast movements, so throwing is tough. but i can do it! not in the same way and not as far or accurate, but i can do it. and i am thankful! 

(my right leg also gets displeased with fast movements/exertion, hence the shaking and losses of balance.)

even though quite a lot of time has passed since my months doing hardcore therapy, my recovery process has not stopped -- nor will it ever if i have my way! recovery after a neurological injury is a lifelong process. there is rarely an end. working as an occupational therapy practitioner in a neuro rehab clinic, i have seen this knowledge come as a shock to a lot of my patients and their families. in our culture, i think we are used to having time frames provided to us my doctors: wear the cast for 6 weeks. take this medication for 10 days. avoid heavy lifting for 2 months. with recovery from neurological issues, we don't get an end date. recovery just becomes another part of everyday life.

in the past year, there have been some standout moments in my recovery that i think are worth sharing. let's review, shall we?

1. i started working as an occupational therapy assistant at SWAN Rehab in Phoenix a little over a year ago. most of my patients are stroke survivors like me. i help them return to independence -- just as my therapists did for me. i truly love what i do! as this is my first full time job since the stroke, it has been a challenge to maintain the 40-60 hour/week pace, both physically and mentally. my job is incredibly physical already, and then managing my balance, strength and muscle tone issues on top of that makes for a very tired body at the end of the day. (napping at 6 p.m. is ok, right?) it has also been difficult to manage my anxiety, which has increased so much since the stroke. but i am thankful to have a job that i love and to BE ABLE to work! every morning i thank God for that.
   


2. i got an adult trike! after looking around for a while (those things ain't cheap!), we found a winner on Craigslist. Troy created a strapping mechanism to keep my right foot on the pedal and also built a platform on the back so he can bum a ride. i had tried to ride a 2-wheeler a couple years ago but decided a trike was much safer for me balance-wise. i love it!
   


3. this one is a biggie. in April, i was able to get a Bioness L300 unit to help me walk. basically, i wear it on my leg and it provides electrical stimulation to the nerves that are not getting signals from my brain. the stim brings my ankle up and out so i can walk without my AFO (the black brace i always wore). getting the Bioness was a miracle in itself as i had attempted to get it through insurance before and was denied, and we didn't have $6k lying around to buy it. i tried again to get it through my new insurance, and they paid for EVERYTHING! i was apparently the first person to be approved for the device through my insurance company. such a blessing! so now, i have the option of wearing my AFO or the Bioness. that sentence can also read: so now, i have the option of wearing different sized, unstylish shoes or wearing cute shoes that are the same size. :) 
   


oh yeah, i also did a news story for Bioness. you can watch it here to see how i walk with and without it on. technology rocks!


4. back in June, Troy and i made a visit to the site of my stroke -- Snowbowl in Flagstaff, AZ -- for the first time since my stroke. i had attempted to visit on one other occasion but couldn't bring myself to go any further than the base of the mountain. we made the trip in June because we were planning to take a flight and i wanted to make sure ahead of time that my brain wasn't going to explode due to elevation. i thought i would be ok going back to the start of it all; it had been more than 3 years, after all. boy was i wrong! it was really, really tough. there were a few times i almost turned around. sitting where i sat when my body started to lose all movement and feeling was surreal and more frightening than i had anticipated. i'm really glad i went, but i have no need to go back for a while. :)
   


5. speaking of that June flight, it was the first time i flew since my stroke. i had avoided flying because i was worried that the change in elevation would cause another stroke, even though the doctors were uncertain if elevation was a factor in the tumor rupturing. i was nervous for most of the flight, but the trip Troy and i took to Cancun was so worth it! we has such a great belated honeymoon. i even boarded another plane a couple months later to go to Colorado for my friends' wedding. glad those first flights are done, and even more glad my brain behaved!

   

   on the plane. there's no going back now!

   
   
   
   
   

   

   
   



6. i French braided my hair for the first time. ok, so next to the other milestones, this one might seem pretty inconsequential. it was special to me, though, because i used to be able to do my hair in all kinds of styles, including braids. while my right arm/hand works well when my arms are around waist- or chest-height, raising them over my head (like in braiding) is harder. i sat on the couch where i could prop my arm up while i braided. it's a start!
   


7. this is another huge one for me. are you ready?!! *drumroll sound*…I RAN FOR THE FIRST TIME! ok, so it was more like a canter. or maybe a trot. but it felt so good (and was exhausting!). i wore the Bioness and was harnessed above the treadmill. my right leg lagged a little, but i never tripped. thanks to my co-worker, Mark, who provided his PT skills to help me meet this goal.

well, there you have it! writing this post was a great opportunity to reflect on the past year and to realize the progress i am still making. i am still so thankful for all the prayers, love and support that have been given to me throughout this journey. to all those who have prayed for me, provided encouragement and/or cheered me on: i am forever indebted to you. you have impacted my life more than you will ever know!

and to Troy, who, apart from me, is the only one who knows the extent of my daily struggles and triumphs: thank you for being my safe place and my biggest supporter. thank you for reminding me to use Righty and for catching me when i fall (literally and figuratively). you are my biggest blessing and i am so glad to be alive so i can live life with you.

[past & present] blessings, miracles and the two-year mark

this post has been a long time coming. i've been thinking about writing it ever since i started this blog a year and a half ago, but because i'm terrible at posting consistently,  i never got around to it. i choose to write it now, February 21, 2013, because today marks two years to the day since i had my stroke and this new era of my life started. (an occasion my kind classmates didn't forget at school today!)

my "birthday" surprises

in some ways, it feels like it has been far shorter than two years. in most ways, though, it feels like it has been much longer. after all, a lot has happened! 

i rehabbed in Tucson for nearly a year, got engaged, moved back to the Valley, got married, started a new job and started school.

a few of my classmates from my occupational therapy assistant program

i went from not being able to move my right side at all, to only needing some assistance, to being independent with the help of a few devices.

my hair started as a buzz, made it to the fauxhawk stage and is now past my ears.

and i went from having constant anxiety to…well, i guess some things never change!

not a day goes by that i don't think about February 21, 2011, and all that has transpired since, and not a day goes by that i don't think about the many blessings and miracles that God has given me during that time. so that i can remember them in the future, and so you can get an idea of why i feel such gratitude today, i want to share just a fraction of these blessings with you.

in no particular order:

• i'm alive! this is especially awesome considering somewhere around 37 percent of hemorrhagic strokes result in death within 30 days. yikes.
• my stroke hit when i was sitting down. i wasn't driving -- which i was planning on doing less than two hours from that time. i wasn't on the lift. i wasn't on my snowboard.
• there were people nearby to run for help. ski patrol was close and came to my aid quickly.
• i was somewhat calm on the ambulance ride to the hospital. 
• Troy and my sister Alicia both told me they felt an undeniable, calm reassurance that everything would be ok. i needed to hear that.
• Troy was with me and he gave me a blessing.
• my parents did a lot of research, made a lot of calls and fought to get me transferred down to Tucson to get me better care.
• i don't remember much of Flagstaff. that, i think, is a major blessing.
• one of the top neurosurgeons in the state accepted my case. my surgery went exactly as planned and even ended early.
• i was so calm right before i was wheeled back for surgery. so unlike me!
• i had no infections, side effects or complications from any medication, surgery or treatment.
• i had no seizures whatsoever. this is very rare and still surprises my neurosurgeon.
• i can use my hand very well. i was told this would never happen.
• the tumor i had was the "best" one possible. all of it was removed in surgery and it has not grown back (knock on wood!).
• i had unwittingly been prepared for handling the loss of function on one side of my body. between breaking both legs and my left wrist, i was already pretty adept at finding new ways to accomplish daily tasks.
• the stroke itself is a blessing. i had no other symptoms of a brain tumor, so it may have kept growing and could have wreaked more havoc than it did.
• the stroke did not affect my understanding or use of language. this is very common in left-sided strokes.
• i lost no cognitive ability, either (that i know of!). even though my body doesn't work as well as i would like, i have my mind -- and i would never want it the other way around.
• my nurses and CNAs were amazing. one nurse in particular was so influential in my recovery that i now consider her my sister.
• before everything happened, my parents and my sister Angela had already studied the concept of neuroplasticity. they were able to share their knowledge with me and ultimately helped me regain more muscle function than would have been possible without it.
• my grandfather generously gave me enough money to help cover thousands and thousands of dollars in medical bills.
• i got to spend a lot of time with my family in Tucson. it turned out to be the last time i would do that before getting married.
• there were many, many instances when i was blessed with extra faith, extra endurance, extra strength, extra hope and extra peace. these moments, though small, carried me through. and still do.

and the biggest blessing of all

i have amazing relationships that have been -- and continue to be -- such a support to me: my loving and positive family; my selfless and understanding husband who helps me keep my chin up; my thoughtful and encouraging friends;  church members; coworkers; classmates; and on and on and on.

this is just a small list of blessings and miracles. i know there are MANY i am forgetting, and even more that i don't even recognize at this point. even though these two years have been crazy hard, it is easy for me to recognize how perfectly orchestrated it has all been. i see God's hand in my life, and i have felt the peace and comfort that comes only through Jesus Christ.

if you didn't believe in miracles before reading this, i hope you do now. :]

[present] the state of things: one year later

life has been rather hectic lately, but i would be remiss if i didn't write a post today -- the one-year anniversary of my stroke. not a day goes by that i don't think of my time in the hospital, of the support and blessings i have received or how incredibly happy i am to be alive. every February 21 will be a holiday for me!

if you're like me, you're thinking, "only one year?!" in many ways, it feels like it has been longer than 365 days, but i think that happens when so much takes place during a period of time. since i haven't posted in a while, i thought i'd give an update on my recovery and the goings-on in my life.

REHAB

if i had to give a percentage of the amount i have recovered, i would probably say 60% (if it's a good day! ). my arm and hand are doing remarkably well -- so much so that my therapists and doctors are surprised at their progress. from my arm down, i can function pretty close to how i could prior to my brain fart. how 'bout that, dr. brain surgeon who never said i'd regain my fine motor skills? :] i used to be bummed that my arm/hand were recovering quicker than my leg/foot, but my occupational therapist has reminded me multiple times that being able to properly use my upper limb is more crucial to daily life than the opposite alternative. i have come to agree! i can cook, do crafts, write, type, have thumb wars, etc., and i have even been told on multiple occasions that i have a firm handshake…just like old times!

from my elbow up, things are a bit more sketchy. i have quite a bit of tone/spasticity still hanging around in my biceps, shoulder, traps and so forth. this makes my movements less than smooth, especially when i do anything that requires me to lift my arm. when i am cold, nervous, stressed or sick, the tone increases. i have to be sure to wear a jacket when it's chilly out, otherwise my arm will curl up and in and get stiff. and, you know how babies startle easily? same here. anytime there's a loud noise or some kind of surprise, my arm jumps on its own. this is funny only half of the time.

now onto my leg. well, mr. leg is stubborn, but i will break him down at some point! i have some crazy tone in my quad and around my calf. the tone around the calf area makes my ankle turn in severely and makes it really hard for me -- or anyone else, for that matter -- to flex my ankle up (dorsiflex). seriously, it's like moving cement sometimes. then, if i make it a point to relax, the tone releases a bit. the tone in my quad makes my leg spasm when i'm cold, nervous, stressed or sick. the worst part of this is that i can no longer hide when i'm nervous! try telling somebody you aren't nervous when your leg is vibrating as you walk. it's just not convincing.

i still use a brace (AFO) to walk. it's awesome and i don't know how i'd function without it. i can curl my toes if i have something pressing up against my foot (again, like a baby). i have been using electrical stimulation to help strengthen and retrain my evertor muscles on the outside of my leg so that i can move my foot outward. because of it, i can now move my foot outward on my own a few times, but only if i am relaxed. if not, the tone kicks in and my foot pivots inward instead. according to my therapists, i can slightly plantarflex -- aka push my foot down. i can't do it well enough to notice it myself, though.

THERAPY

with the New Year came a new set of therapy visits from my insurance. hooray! toward the last part of 2011, i was paying for therapy out of pocket (thanks to a very benevolent grandfather) and doing most of my exercises at home. since moving up to Tempe at the end of January, i have been to a new therapist twice. his initial evaluation was rather discouraging because it highlighted all the things i still can't do or still need to work on. it went something like...

"oh, your gait pattern is flawed. you are expending twice the energy because your walk is inefficient. your knee should be straighter when you walk. wow, your tone is really strong! can you move your ankle out at all? oh, nope." and on and on.

it's not like this guy was rude about his assessment findings; it's just that i hated hearing all the negative feedback all at once. most of the time, i try to focus on the things i can do, especially after not being able to move my right side at all, so the evaluation was a rude awakening to how much work is still left. while tough to swallow, i am glad this new therapist has recognized areas where i need to improve and is eager to help me get there!

DRUGS (the good kind)

i take a muscle relaxer called Baclofen three times per day to help control my tone. being that it is a muscle relaxer, it relaxes the rest of me, too. if you stick me in a car or on a couch with nothing to do, i will invariably fall asleep. i need naps pretty often (like a baby!) to combat the effects of the medicine, so i am nervous about how that will all work out when i have less time to snooze. the medicine also makes me shaky and hungry if i don't eat and drink often. thus, i also need frequent snacks (baby!).

DRIVING

i recently completed 12 [very expensive] hours of training on a left-foot accelerator. since my right leg isn't healed enough yet, the only option i had to be able to drive was using a gas pedal positioned to the left of the brake. i am waiting on the DMV to give me a road test, and if i pass, i will be given a restricted license -- meaning i can only operate a vehicle with the proper adaptive equipment. i am soooooo looking forward to driving again! Troy is, too, since he is the one who has to take me everywhere. ev-er-y-where. he says i will have to drive us around for six months straight once i get my license. :]

i'm also nervous to drive with the new equipment. apparently, left-foot accelerators are really dangerous and aren't prescribed very often. after going through the training, i can see why! from a very young age, we all learn to slam on the left pedal when we need to stop suddenly. my left-most pedal is now the accelerator. eek! let's all hope i don't kill myself.

TUMOR

as of December, my brain still has a clean bill of health! the possibility of the tumor recurring scares me even more than the possibility of always having stroke symptoms, so i was incredibly thankful to hear the good news from my surgeon. i will go back in May for another MRI. if that one is clear, i will do an MRI only once a year instead of twice. i am still being followed by a cancer doctor. i see her every six months and will do so for five years, just to be sure. she takes my blood and feels my glands at each visit. it's comforting to know my health is being closely monitored.

SPIRITS (not the boozy kind)

all in all, my spirits are pretty high! some days are better than others, but that's the same for all of us. occasionally, especially on days when i have a harder time moving, i think about all the things i miss or worry about: what if something else is wrong with my body? why do i feel weird today? (this is a common one since i am hyper-aware of every aspect of my body.) what if the tumor comes back and i die and leave Troy behind? what if i never can play softball or act again? i wish i could go on hikes with Troy. how am i ever going to be a mother if i can't balance well or hold things with my right arm? i wish i was healthy like everybody else my age and didn't need to spend so much money on medical expenses. how will i pay for them all?

after counting my blessings -- and normally a pep talk from Troy -- i do a good job snapping out of these negativity ruts. i have accepted that my life will be different than i expected, but i have also not given up hope that i will be healed.

FUTURE

so, what's next? in short, i plan on year #2 being wonderful! i am marrying the best man i have ever met on February 29, and we will throw a big shindig for all of our family and friends the next day. (i can't believe it's actually going to happen. i have dreamed about marrying Troy for six years, people!) we will live in an apartment in Mesa. since we are both currently unemployed (good for wedding planning, bad for anything else), we will do some major job searching right away. in May, i will start a 18-month Certified Occupational Therapist Assistant (COTA) program at Pima Medical Institute. i hope i can use my experiences as a patient to become an effective therapist. Troy is considering returning to school, too, so we will soon be introduced to the joys of student loans!

as i reflect on this last year, there is so much to be thankful for. i am humbled by my blessings and by the support and love showered on me. please keep me in your prayers. i have improved so much, but the road ahead is still very long. i can use all the prayers and faith i can get!

here's to better health, continued progress and lots of love in the next 365 days. :]