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On December 9, 2005, I left the office of the Swiss man I was tutoring and got into my car. How strange everything looked
as I got onto Academy Blvd. Why did it look so odd? I made it to my condo, parked my car, and went inside. I began to do
close-up work, and everything seemed fine again until early evening when I got back in my car to drive downtown to my daughter
Teghan's dance recital. Now everything through my windshield looked odd again, and when I began to watch the dance, I realized
I could cover an eye, and the dancers who were further away looked beauriful again.
After the dance, we went to the Pikes Peak Center where a Christmas caroling event was being held. The doublevision was
more annoying, and we did not stay for the whole show. I thought maybe it was an effect from working on my computer too much,
but after I was home, I looked up doublevision, now having a name for my visual disturbance. It was a Friday night. I knew
that I would not see the doctor over the weekend. I wasn't sure what doctor to go to . . . just my optomatrist or my family
doctor.
The next morning we went to get a battery for Munchkin the dog's collar. Then I went to meet Dad and Ginny at a very
nice restaurant, keeping the hair on my left side of my face over my eye. That night I was to meet two women at a restaurant,
and driving home from that event in the dark was really hard. The vision got no better. In fact, it became worse.
I picked up an eye patch the next day, and Monday night teaching, I wore it to class. It was the last night of the term,
and one of my students had had headache after headache and told me he was going to have an MRI in a few days. It kind of
seemed as if he was suffering the same as I for I'd hada headache also in my temple.
The next day Jane had scheduled me with an opthamologist. By then I had looked up the problem further, and while I didn't
think the symptoms fit me, a brain tumor was a possibility that scared me. The doctor sent me to Penrad for an MRI. Dad
went with me because now driving for me was so hard. I knew about MRIs since I'd worked on radio and TV commercials for advertising
them. I knew not to be claustrophobic but to make myself relax through the process. As I breathed, I talked all my muscles
into relaxing.
Late in the afternoon, the doctor called and said he had bad news: There was a giant aneurysm in my head.
He spoke to a neurologist here in Colorado Springs who gave him the Denver recommendation. There are no neurosurgeons
in this town. Now it was time to set that up. Phone call, done. Set up.
Tom made arrangements with his lawyer to draw up a power of attorney and other papers, just in case I did not make it.
I declared that Sara was to be the decision-maker if I lost my mental powers. It was easy to give Tom the POA for financial
as he was still on my bank account even after the years since our divorce.
After the evening visit to the lawyer's office, I realized I'd left my purse inside. But now the building was closed.
So we headed off to a great restaurant for dinner . . . dinner with the patched-eye woman.
I had been talking on the phone to Jane, and she'd said that smoking was the worst thing I could do, so I'd quit that
moment. Nothing was making me long for a smoke. I was not interested in doing the worst thing. When something serious occurs,
it's time to be a realist.
The next day as we were driving to Denver to Swedish Hospital, it suddenly struck me that maybe everyone else had had
a sudden feeling that I was not going to make it and that's why we had to get all the practical legal stuff done. But it
was only . . . the practical mind of Tom at work. A good thing.
So....we arrived at the neurological clinic which is essentially one with the hospital. I brought along a suitcase just
in case I was to be admitted now. Everyone was quite calm. Sara and Ivan and the sandwich shop nearby. I wasn't to eat because
of some test -- I can't recall what. I remember being with both of them and the lunch.
A little to our surprise, I was then admiited.
It's hard to explain how that felt. More than anything, it was hopeful. The calmness of the doctors and the statement
that the aneurysm had been there awhile was reassuring. Of course, the change had occurred . . . the doublevision.
No matter the distance, doublevision was the rule. For example, if I looked down into the sink, I could see two drains.
I could, however, focus the left eye enough that I could insert a contact into my eyes. The patch was more commfortable taped
onto my face rather than the strap around my forehead. The doublevision made me somewhat clumsy.
I remember sleeping in my bed upstairs in the condo, feeling the headache on my left temple. But sleeping wasn't hard.
You'd think perhaps that the aneurysm was the only thing on my mind, but that's not how it was. Everything else that had
been going on in my life up to this moment was still so present to me. I suppose I thought that it was a relief the problem
was not a brain tumor and that the aneurysm would be cured quickly.
I did read a little about them. The surgery that went through the groin and into the brain . . . I know that I didn't
want anyone to cut into my brain. That was a rather scary thought.
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