By Kristin Etu
Buffalo, NY – It's been exactly three years since my grandmother, who was my best friend, passed away. Grama had these little sayings...nuggets of wisdom, so to speak...that she used to prove a point. One of her favorites was, "count your blessings." Not exactly original, but meaningful. Unfortunately, telling a slightly overweight, pre-pubescent girl with recently divorced parents to "count your blessings" was sort of a wasted effort.
Sometimes it takes years, even decades to appreciate the wisdom in a saying as simple as "count your blessings." This fall, while being treated for migraines, I had a routine MRI. "I don't expect to find anything," the neurologist said. "But we might as well do an MRI."
A week later I got the call. "We found something. An abnormal vein on your brain. It's probably harmless but we'll need to do another MRI to rule out something else."
That something else they were checking for was an arterial venous malformation - AVM for short. You remember a few years ago, actress Sharon Stone had one, it burst, she was in a coma and almost died? Yeah, that's it.
So I had the next MRI. Fifteen more minutes in the tube listening to classical music just to rule out the Sharon Stone thing. I can do that, I thought. The next day I saw the neurologist. He came into the exam room and sat down. "Okay, we have your MRI results from yesterday, and remember the thing that we didn't want it to be? The bad thing? Well, it IS an AVM. Stop taking all your medications, don't lift anything over ten pounds and we'll get you in to see a neurosurgeon right away. Oh, and if you get a headache, here's some vicadin to make you comfortable."
Did he say comfortable? I've just seen photos of my brain, with what looks like an old, dead tree running up the back of it. I'm not seeing comfortable anywhere on the horizon. The options for treatment ran from doing nothing to brain surgery. Worse than that, someone had to tell my mother. The sobs echoing through my husband's cell phone told the story. I'm 35 years old, with three children, and there's a decent chance I won't make it. I thought to myself.
Four days later I was on the exam table, hopped up on sedative, having a small catheter inserted through an artery in my groin all the way up to my brain. Each time a picture was taken, there was a shot of heat, and I had to hold my breath and stay still. After about 45 minutes the neurosurgeon came out and told me the prognosis. The vein is clean. No AVM. You're fine.
About six weeks later, I watched my sister, who has struggled with infertility, arrive at Buffalo Niagara International Airport. Weary after 24 hours of travel from a remote region of Russia, a three-week stay in a foreign country and months of endless adoption paperwork, she carried an absolutely perfect eight-month old baby boy on her hip. Her son. The newest member of our family, who was passed around instantly and smiled at each and every one of us.
Just this spring, on Good Friday, I decided after a day-long Easter shopping trip to head to the Dollar Store, just three blocks from my house. After I was finished shopping, I decided to fill up the empty gas stank. I had just started going through the green light at the intersection of Kenmore and Starin when I heard a loud bang. I was instantly thrown upside down. All my recent purchases flew around in front of my face. I heard the sound of glass shattering, tires squealing and people gasping. Somehow I felt removed, almost calm. What is really happening? I thought. The truth is a woman ran a red light and flipped over my minivan.
My car spun around and crashed into the curb. Then silence. There I was, hanging upside down, perfectly fine except for a pin-prick sized dot of blood on one finger. After being checked by paramedics and ER staff, I went home to see the wide-eyed, terrified but thankful faces of my three children. I hugged each and every one of them, went to bed and slept eight hours straight.
Gram, in case you're listening, those fragrant wild violets you love so much are popping up now. I picked some just the other day and thought of you. And guess what else? I finally started counting my blessings.
Listener-Commentator Kristin Etu is a public relations specialist at Canisius College.