Hello Everyone,
I am not an aneurysm survivor like many of you, and I've never felt the physical pain and suffering that many of you have endured. You are all inspirations and are some of the bravest people out there. This is my story.
I was 10 when my dad died from complications following a ruptured brain aneurysm. On July 20, 2001, he claimed he had a headache, which wasn't unusual for him. To get us out of the house to give him some peace, my mom took my older siblings and I on a walk. When we got home, hours later, I walked into his room alone and found him on the floor, his glasses under the bed, his pants off in an effort to change into something presentable for the ER. He was like that. He told me to get my mom. He said he thought he'd had a stroke. The worst part of this night for me was knowing that he was downstairs when the aneurysm ruptured (he told my mom that later). He had to crawl, in pain, all the way upstairs, to his bedroom....I still can't think about that.
He was life flighted to UPMC in Pittsburgh and had surgery. I still don't know what the procedure was-I had no idea what was going on then and haven't wanted to ask since. He was in a coma the next day when I went to see him. I was so afraid of him. He stayed in intensive care for about a week and a half.
He was moved to a rehab hospital. He was still on a ventilator and could not use the left side of his body. Eventually he could whisper. These last memories I have of him are awful. I remember him crying because he & my mom had their anniversary while he was in the hospital and he couldn't get her a gift. Another time he just wanted water...he couldn't even have ice chips. Things like this just stick with you so much..I know he was in so much pain and so afraid. I was always so reluctant to go see him. Being a kid and seeing your dad like that just felt so wrong.
On the night before he died we all went to see him, which was rare. I don't remember much what happened. I guess it was a typical visit. On September 1, my mom got a call during lunch and went to the hospital. When she got back she told us that he had passed away around lunchtime of a heart attack. I guess the drugs and treatment of the past 6 weeks were too much. I hate that he was alone when he died. I hope he wasn't scared.
My dad was a minister and over 1,000 former church member, colleagues, and friends came to his funeral. He was 46 years old. He had so much left to do.
This September, my dad will have been gone for 11 years, for more than half of my life. I still struggle every day. I question why. I worry about my own health, after seeing what an aneurysm can do to the body. I wonder if now the technology would have been advanced enough to save him. I wonder if I hadn't gone on that walk if those hours would have been enough to save him. I can't change the past, but I really wish that I could.
Last summer I had a bake sale to benefit the BAF, and I raised over $300, which I thought was pretty good for baking it all myself! I hope to have another fundraiser next month.
I have not been through your trials, I don't know what it's like-but I do know that you all give me hope that there are survivors, that this doesn't have to be the end of the road for everyone. I look forward to getting to know you all, and I hope that things are going well for each and every one of you. You're all extremely lucky-your life is a gift, and I hope you all live it to the fullest.
My Best,
Kelsey