I had a baby.
And my mom had a brain aneurysm.
I think, in general, a new life tends to breathe new life into the lives of the living.
And really, who doesn't benefit from a little new life now and then...
On November 30th my mom was putting gas in the car on her way out to see Storey and I. She lost her balance, fell to the ground, got up, drove home and threw up in the driveway. My dad called to let me know that she wasn't coming out - something about her ankle hurting from the fall. I hung up, then called back. Something wasn't right about her falling and throwing up. My mom is never sick. I remembered seeing somewhere that dizziness/fainting and nausea are the two most common signs of stroke or heart attack in women. Dad said her head had started to hurt and they were on their way to the hospital. 50% don't make it this far.
They get to the ER. The doctors there do a CAT scan. She's got a brain aneurysm that's ruptured. They life-flight her to the Cleveland Clinic. We wait through what was the longest night ever as they figure out how to fix what's happened.
The next day, December 1st, mom had brain surgery. Of the 50% that make it to the hospital, only about half survive to see the operating table. A man named Shaye Moskowitz performed surgery, filling my mom's aneurysm with tiny threads of platinum, saving her life. Something he's likely done many times in his career. Something that meant everything to our family. Jason proposes that each year, on December 1st, we toast Shaye, thanking him. I say, if we have a second child and it's a boy, Shaye is an excellent name to keep in mind. Either way, neither gesture is thanks enough for what he and the others who cared for my mom have done. They're why my mom is still here today. They're why Storey gets to grow up enjoying two grandmas. They're why I get to be a mom but still be a daughter. It's painfully overwhelming to think of life otherwise and I guess I've been made to think about it a lot these past few weeks. Of the 25% that survive to undergo surgery, two thirds survive the surgery itself.
My mom spent less than a week in ICU. I think by the 8th of December she was discharged to Metro for therapy. This past Tuesday, the 18th, she returned home. Overall, she had roughly a 16% chance of surviving what happened and an 8% chance of surviving without serious disability.
My mom is amazing.
We're all amazingly lucky.
They're beautiful together aren't they?
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