#aspirin being blood thinner took a long time to notice

[staroftara]

THANK YOU!

The British used Opium in a bad way to try to colonize China or at least force them into one-sided trade deals. And all other sorts of terrible things.

Also in 1937 it was bolstered by the logging industry, but there was restrictions solely on the drug starting in 1906 for the US as a whole

However, New York started as early as 1860! Due to to a string of suicides allegedly due to cannabis (and other things) but also this might’ve been what they were using??

It looks stronk.

Also New York didn’t ban it, they required it to have the label of “Poison”

“A bill introduced in 1880 in the California state legislature was titled 'An act to regulate the sale of opium and other narcotic poisons' and would have forbidden anyone to keep, sell, furnish, or give away any "preparations or mixtures made or prepared from opium, hemp, or other narcotic drugs" without a doctor's prescription at a licensed store. That bill was withdrawn in favor of one specifically aimed at opium, though further bills including hemp-based drugs were introduced in 1885 and in 1889.”

It’s weird that Cali started it!

Anyway, enough of me researching and rambling for no good reason~

Conclusion!

People have many reasons for wanting to ban drugs! Showing only one viewpoint is uncritical at best and dangerous at worst!

Cannabis should not be classified as a Class 1 drug, but should still be regulated until it’s effects have been properly studied.

when i see english speakers say "marijuana"...looks like somebody isn't immune to propaganda

[nctsjiho]

2 PM Suffering

Click here for Part 2 (there’s also a link at the bottom of the post)

warnings: consumption of alcohol and medication(aspirin), anxiety, stress, insomnia. I do not condone mixing alcohol with medication, it can be very harmful to the body. This story is purely for entertainment only. It’s not super angsty but I do want to warn you in case any of the aforementioned warnings can be triggering to you.

era: April 2021

❀ While the rest of NCT 127 is gone to shoot a schedule JiHo suffers alone in her dorm room, but Xiaojun comes to her rescue

It had been a few weeks since JiHo got withheld from NCT schedules until they could handle all the contractual issues. The initial meeting with the higher-ups in SM had really taken a toll on her mental health. The thought of maybe not being able to return to NCT and maybe even being dropped by SM was something she didn’t want to think about.

JiHo had been in so many meetings with SM, she couldn’t talk about it with the boys, all she could do was watch them continue on as NCT while she was hidden away from the public.

All that stress had caused her to have severe headaches almost daily at this point. She was awake until early in the morning, not being able to sleep, and then falling asleep due to pure exhaustion. And when she woke up only 2 hours after she had fallen asleep the cycle continued. Meeting, individual practise, meeting, yet another meeting, again individual practise, going home, sleep (or at least trying to).

It was currently 2 in the afternoon. She was home alone as all the boys were shooting some kind of top model series for the NCT 127 YouTube channel. Even though today was a day free of meetings for JiHo, she couldn’t help but still feel stressed and anxious. She hadn’t slept for at least 32 hours and the fact that she still couldn’t sleep was stressing her out even more.

She was sat on the floor of her room, relocated after her spot in her bed had became insufferably hot. She reached for the bottle of juice situated on her nightstand. She had bought it 2 days ago at the convenience store on her way back home. At the time she didn’t realise it was alcoholic, but after she had 2 glasses and she felt a comforting buzz in her chest, she knew it wasn’t just regular juice.

When she finished said second glass about an hour ago, she realised how it for some reason calmed her anxiety the tiniest bit. But the tiniest bit felt like such a relief. The lingering headache was the only thing - that’s what she made herself belief at least - that was keeping her from falling asleep.

Unfocused eyes watched how the small white container rolled in her hand. JiHo didn’t belief in medication. Pain relievers, cough syrups, even to anti-depressants, they only worked if you believed they would work. That was her opinion on that, yet at this point she had become so desperate having not slept for such a long period of time. “Just one won’t be that bad right? If they don’t work, then they don’t work.” She tried to convinced herself.

Three whole pills later and another glass of her ‘juice’ and JiHo had grown only more desperate. The headache had subsided for only a few minutes, so when it came back thrice as bad her anxiety had gone through the roof. She threw her head back in agony as her body shook violently.

“JiHo?” A shout came from the front door after it opened. “Taeyong hyung asked Kun ge to come check on you, but he couldn’t so I’m here with food and-” As soon as Xiaojun opened the door of JiHo’s room and saw the state the girl was in, he dropped the food he was holding and rushed over to JiHo. “What’s wrong? JiHo? Talk to me, what happened?”

JiHo’s face was flushed completely red, he hands balled up in fists tangled with her hair and her body was noticeably shaking. Thankfully he hadn’t come in 10 minutes earlier when she was a lot worse, JiHo thought.

Not receiving an answer Xiaojun’s eyes desperately searched the room for JiHo’s phone. Maybe he could reach one of the members, since his phone died just a few minutes before he had gotten to her dorm - he was relieved that he had memorised the passcode to the dorm’s door before it died, what would have happened if he couldn’t go in?

But as Xiaojun’s eyes looked around, his gaze fell on the juice bottle. He had recognised it as something Winwin once brought home to try it with the boys. “Isn’t that alcohol? But you don’t drink...” He could vividly remember JiHo say she didn’t like the taste of most alcohol, but more than that she just chose not to drink as it was something she didn’t feel like doing.

Xiaojun didn’t expect an answer so when it didn’t come he wasn’t surprised. “You drank a lot.” He picked up the bottle to see there was only enough left for half a glass. “JiHo-” “I bought it by mistake. But it’s helping my anxiety.” Xiaojun sighed at the words. He knew vaguely what was going on, but he never knew she was suffering from anxiety because of it. More so, he was sure none of the boys knew, because they wouldn’t have left JiHo alone like this if that was the case. He was aware of how overprotective the boys could be. Doyoung would’ve sent her to stay with WayV or Dream if he knew about this. So clearly he didn’t know.

“You shouldn’t drink like this though-” “What else am I supposed to do. I can barely sleep these days.” It was like she was straining her vocal cords just to speak. It sounded painful and the cough which followed only made it worse. “And these don’t help either.” JiHo mustered up all her strength to lift the almost weightless bottle of aspirin. Xiaojun’s eyes widened and his ja dropped at the sight. “You’ve been drinking and taking medication? You know you shouldn’t be mixing-” “I know. I’ve stopped taking them now, they only make my headache worse.”

The words couldn’t leave his mouth as the words dawned on him. She had stopped taking them. So she had taken more than one? And she had been drinking alcohol. “We might need to go to the hospital-” “No!” JiHo’s sudden grip on Xiaojun’s wrist startled him greatly. Her grip only getting tighter as she leaned in and that’s when Xiaojun finally took in her appearance.

He cheeks were flushed as well as her ears. Her lips were a bit swollen and her eyes bloodshot. The other hand that wasn’t stopping blood circulation towards Xiaojun’s hand was trembling in her lap. “I don’t need to go to the hospital.” She carefully enunciated every word, the look in her eyes almost terrifying the boy. “But let’s at least call Doyoung hyung-” There was no need for JiHo to interject with words to stop him from talking. Her shaking her head aggressively already did the job. “Okay, we won’t call anyone.” He whispered.

Xiaojun watched JiHo as she retracted her hand and brought her knees to her chest, face now hidden behind her hands.

Useless was the best way to describe how Xiaojun was feeling right now. He could only watch as someone, he had learned to care about over the past year and a half, suffer alone. He wished he could take away her pain, that he could make her fall asleep, that he could take away the thoughts that were keeping her awake and were stressing her out. But he couldn’t do anything.

“I brought food.” “I don’t think I can eat. I’ll throw up.”

“Do you want me to bring you some water?” “I already have some on my nightstand.”

“Should I bring you some tea?” “No thank you.”

“What can I do to help?” “Nothing.”

“Should I sing you a song?” “...”

Xiaojun fully expected to get his question shot down again. All his tries in the past 20 minutes were all unsuccessful. But when there was silence from the girl, a little spark of hope filled his heart. There was no “no” coming from her lips. And though he had loved an actual answer, the silence was the best response he had gotten so far.

It stayed quiet for another minute before Xiaojun stood up. He squatted down again to hook one of his arms under JiHo’s legs, and the other supported her back. He lifted the smaller girl up effortlessly and than eased her down onto her bed. He tucked her in with one of her thinner, but not the thinnest, blankets knowing she said she was feeling hot before and then settled down next to her bed.

His head was close to hers. JiHo’s eyes staring directly into his, which almost had him flustered but the situation helped keep his cool. He brought a hand to her hair and tucked it behind her ear as he kept stroking her head. “Close your eyes hmm?” She did as she was told and in a matter of seconds the soft voice of Xiaojun reached her ears.

The song he was singing wasn’t one she was familiar with, but JiHo didn’t care. Xiaojun’s angelic voice seemed to calm down her racing thoughts. Her body visibly relaxed which made the boy smile. His hand continued to stroke the side of JiHo’s head, the sight of her features softening, making his heart melt. Once he finished the song JiHo’s eyes fluttered opened slowly.

It was somewhat disappointing that his singing hadn’t succeeded in making her fall asleep. “Can you stay here for a while?” Xiaojun nodded his head without a second thought causing JiHo to give him a small smile and thank him.

Getting ready to sing another song, Xiaojun halted when JiHo shifted in her bed. She moved away from him before patting the spot next to her. It was an invitation for him to lay next to her. He hesitated for a second, not sure if it was actually okay for him to lay down in the same bed as her. Maybe it was the alcohol lingering in JiHo’s system, but when JiHo patted the spot again he climbed in anyway.

Eyes fixed on the ceiling as the words to ‘For Life’ by EXO left Xiaojun’s lips. He didn’t see, but could sense the girl next to him drifting to sleep. Her breath calmed significantly until she was breathing in a slow steady rhythm. The boy smiled, happy that he ended up being able to help her in some way. But he made a mental note to let Taeyong or Doyoung know about what happened earlier, along with telling them she was suffering from anxiety and insomnia, hoping that maybe the members closer to her were able to keep an eye on her and help her out.

---

Part 2

Side note: Again, I just want to put out there that you should NEVER mix alcohol with medication, please please don’t do it. I don’t condone such a thing, this story is purely fictional, I’m not a doctor so I don’t know in which doses alcohol and aspirin can be harmful to the body, but in general DO NOT mix alcohol with medication. Medication should only be taken as prescribed or as instructed by doctors or the manual (?) that comes with the medication.

[afibrunner]

How It All Began

For more, visit my blog at 1080Park.com . . . 

My story leading up to the catheter ablation procedure went something like this:  

- I was in pretty good physical shape.  I was in my mid-30s.

- One night my heartbeat went crazy. 

- I freaked out a bit, but calmly went to my personal doctor: Google.

- It took me all of 20 minutes to diagnose myself with Atrial Fibrillation (AF).

- I decided to sleep on it, and the next day my symptoms were gone.

- I was living overseas at the time, so I was a bit untrusting of the foreign medical system.

- Despite knowing the risks associated with AF, I stupidly decided to just live with it rather than treat it.

My AF symptoms came and went over the years, often brought on by a few distinct things: Adrenaline or quickly-induced stress, certain types of alcohol, strangely enough, laying back in a very distinct position on the couch, and (I think but not certain on this one) a large intake of sugar like eating a big desert at a restaurant.  My irregular heartbeat did not seem to be triggered by caffeine as far as I could tell.  

If I went into AF at any point, it would automatically go away on its own.  Usually overnight, but almost always within 48 hours.  At first I would have instances of it once a week or so, but over the years it began happening more often. Sometimes every other day.  I continued my misguided approach of ignoring it because I didn’t ever really feel very poorly during the times I was in AF .  I don’t remember ever feeling tired, fatigued, dizzy or short of breath.  Sometimes I wouldn’t know I had it until I put my finger on my wrist to check my heart rate.  If it was steady, I was good to go.  If it was beating randomly, I knew I was in AF.  I could run normally, and although my times weren’t super fast I don’t remember every missing a run or a strength workout because I was in AF. 

I returned to live in the United States about three years after first realizing I had AF.  During a routine annual physical with my primary care physician, he picked up on my AF and freaked out.  I wanted to say, “Yo Doc, simmer down now.  I’ve been living with this for a long time, and it’s not even bad right now.  No need to panic.  But panic he did.  He acted like he found something that was found something that was an immediate threat to my life.  He mentioned a few things I already knew like AF puts someone at an increased risk of stroke, etc.  He ordered an EKG that confirmed what he heard through his stethoscope.  I had AF.  My secret was now out.  He made such a big deal of it that I was too embarrassed to admit I already knew I had it. He had me follow him out of the exam room into his office where he proceeded to make a call to a cardiologist he knew and recommended. Using first names, he called in an obvious favor and got me a same-day visit with this specialist in AF. My PCP bid me farewell in a somewhat dramatic fashion, proud of his accomplishment in finding the AF and saving my life.  (He really is a great PCP, and although I was certain he was overreacting he my have indeed ultimately saved me from a stroke by scaring me and highlighting that AF is something that should be dealt with sooner than later.)    

The new cardiologist was awesome as well.  He looked at the EKG I had taken an hour before and said, “Yep, you’ve got Atrial Fibrillation.”  He was awesome.  He stepped me through what was happening in my heart, and then helped me feel like a bit less of an invalid.  He explained that it isn’t uncommon for long distance runners to develop AF.  He had a very technical reason for why you can be in great  physical shape with a very strong heart, but that extreme endurance training can sometimes trigger AF.  He was very positive and went through the equation cardiologists use to assess the risk of stroke to patients with AF:  CHA₂DS₂-VASc.  (See my resources page for more information on this risk score and how it is used.)  He basically “white boarded” out an equation to assign points to certain conditions.  He explained each risk factor and why they were important. I was under 65 years old, male, no history of congestive heart failure, no hypertension, no history of stroke, no vascular disease history and no diabetes.  Compared to someone with no diagnosis of AF, I was still at an increased risk for stroke, but I was on the lower end of the spectrum for those diagnosed with AF.  He was awesome in that he made me feel good about the fact that I was in great shape and that this definitely made me healthier than most AF patients.  But he stopped just short of making me feel like I had nothing to be concerned about. He thought I would be a perfect candidate for a cardiac catheter ablation, and explained the procedure in very basic terms.  He referred me to another physician who does the ablation procedures, and said he wanted me to get started on the blood thinner Xarelto, and gave me a sample pack of the drug.  In his notes on this visit, the doctor wrote the following: “Patient has asymptomatic atrial fibrillation of unclear duration. His atrial fibrillation is probably related to his high vagal tone as he is a marathon runner and quite athletic. His CHADS VAS score is 0 and aspirin should be sufficient. However, I have explained to him that personally, I prefer Xeralto or Eliquis. Furthermore, I anticipate eventual cardioversion or ablation and therefore, I will start patient on Xeralto 20 mg dally at bedtime.”

I didn’t see that third physician on the same day, but his staff helped me get scheduled for a stress echo to “rule out inducible ischemia or structural heart disease.”  

Approximately two weeks later I reported to the third physician for the stress echo using the “Bruce (Accelerated)” protocol.  (I’m not sure what that is, but I wrote it down.)  I got wired up with a bunch of cables attached to my chest and ran on a treadmill for about 13 minutes.  I wasn’t in AF at the time of the test, so I felt really strong and I think I did well in the stress test.  The doctor commended me for reaching stage 7 of the protocol, but I’m not sure if he was being sincere or just knew I was competitive with running and wanted me to feel better about myself.  From the Doctor’s notes: “Conclusions: 1. Excellent exercise  tolerance. 2. Normal blood pressure and heart rate response to exercise. 3. Negative exercise echo tor Inducible ischemia or arrhythmia.”

So that was it.  I went home feeling like I had killed the test.  From this point on I continued to make bad decisions.  I continued to blow off my new AF diagnosis because 1. I didn’t want to be on medications or blood thinners, and 2. the thought of having surgery on my heart when three weeks earlier I had run a half marathon averaging under 8 minute miles sounded crazy to me.  So I decided to do some research on ablation to figure out if I’d still be able to be a runner after the procedure.

And two weeks later the entire country went on lockdown for COVID-19. 

Most elective procedures were cancelled as we all tried to figure out how we were going to get through the pandemic.  I was ok with that because I felt healthy.  After all, I had been living with AF for a few years already.  I saw no need to panic.  I just continued running . . . 

On many occasions I would begin a run knowing I was in AF, and then the irregular heartbeat would be snapped back to normal at some point during the run.  This happened quite often with tempo runs. I wasn’t overly concerned about it because at first I didn’t recognize a decrease in performance.  Later it became a bit more noticeable, and my Garmin Forerunner 945 had a problem with my AF.  

There is a feature in the Forerunner to help you watch for abnormal heart rates.  You can have the watch alert you if it detects an abnormally high or low heart rate.  I left this feature on.  Every so often, when I was in AF after a run it would trigger the alarm.  Not during the run, mind you.  For some reason it only triggered the alarm after I was cooling down. Maybe it was because the watch knew I was no longer running and was worried that my heart rate was still high when I should be recovering.  Keep in mind my resting heart rate was around 42 bpm at that time.  

I remember being angry following a run when I was in AF because my Garmin 945 got so confused.  My VO₂ Max was 54 according to my Garmin, but after a run wherein my watch got super confused, it dropped my VO₂ Max down two points to a 52.  I was mad!  I had a particularly bad bought of AF and ran through it.  Normally during a tempo run my heart rate would take a while to increase, and then would top out at around 150 when I was running at a perceived exertion rate of about 7 on a scale of 1 to 10.  

During this run my heart rate was through the roof because of the AF.  I might be making this up, but I’m pretty sure my Garmin watch sent me an alert during the run saying, “Did you give your watch to someone who isn’t in very good running condition by any chance?”  (I hit the back key on my watch to blow off the notification.)  

Later while still in AF during that same run:  

Garmin: “Are you in imminent danger or running for your life?”  Me: No. Shut up Garmin, it’s just my AF making you think my HR is way high.

5 minutes later.  Garmin: “Need me to call 911 for you?”  No, damnit, now leave me alone so I can complete this tempo run.  It’s just AF and I’ll have a much lower heart rate the day after tomorrow when I try this again.  

As I mentioned, my Garmin punished me after that run by dropping my VO₂ Max by two points.  I was mad, and that was the point where I decided to have the ablation procedure.  All because my watch downgraded what it assessed as my VO₂ Max following one time I ran during AF.  Crazy right?

Next up: Choosing my surgeon. . . 

[megalony]

Diagnosis

A single dad! Ben Hardy imagine that was inspired by an episode of House, I hope you all like it.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @luvborhap @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @jonesyaddiction @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye

Ben Hardy masterlist

Part 2

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ben's foot created a rapid-fire beat tapping against the tiled floor that was shining his panicked expression back up at him. Showing how his elbows were jittering from resting on his knees, his hands clasped together so his knuckles were pressing to his lips. Every blood vessel in his head was at the point of bursting which created an awful pulsing to pound against his skull. There were washed up tears staining his features that had long since dried as he had been sat on the same chair in the same position for over three hours now.

The actor had gone from pestering every nurse that passed by to pacing up and down the corridor to then sitting down, unmoving like a stone statue.

When the sound of his name being called hit his ears Ben managed to crane his neck up. Relief swelling in his burning eyes when he saw his sister hurrying down the corridor as quickly as she could with his toddler in her arms. Ben pushed himself to unsteady legs that almost buckled beneath him as his arms reached out for Lola who gurgled his name. He took the two-year-old into his arms, cradling her to his chest as he willed the tears to disappear.

Emily had told Ben when he called that she would pick Lola up from nursery and then come straight down to the hospital to wait with him and he was thankful she had. The longer he sat on his own the worse he felt.

"What's happening?" Emily questioned as Ben moved to sit back down prompting her to do the same. He perched Lola on his lap, pressing his lips to the top of her head as she snuggled into his chest making him feel glad to have one of his girls in his arms after fearing what was happening to his eldest for the past three hours.

"She's just come out of surgery but they won't let me see her... her heart muscles seized up or something... s-she just collapsed, couldn't breathe at all."

Ben tipped his head back as if it would tip the tears to the back of his head as well, willing for them to disappear because he had shed too many today. One moment Lily had been in the kitchen with Ben since she felt too ill to go to school and the next moment he looked at her she had been on the floor. She had been wheezing and gasping for air that she couldn't seem to grasp but couldn't seem to move either. The actor had rushed her down to A&E for the nurse to snatch her away and suddenly tell him his daughter was going for surgery. No asking him if she could or telling him why, simply informing him he had to wait.

No one would tell him what was wrong with her until an hour into the surgery after he had had to call Emily and ask if she would pick up Lola and then call his mother and tell her what had happened. Ben had expected that when he had called his ex to tell her what happened to their eldest, she would come down and wait with him. He had been wrong.

Ben and his ex weren't on the best of speaking terms and he had been perplexed about how to feel when she didn't want any contact with their two girls anymore. It wouldn't affect Lola as much because she was two and Lily was six and never felt amazingly comfortable around her mother. But Ben still snapped at his ex and told her to get her act together because she couldn't abandon them. They were her daughters and he wanted them to live with him but he didn't want his ex to cut them out of her life like she had.

So when he had rung her up and told her what had happened he thought she would be panicked or upset or nervous and would want to come and wait for news with him. All he got was her telling him to ring her when he knew what was happening but she didn't seem as bothered or anxious as he wanted her to be and it sent his blood boiling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Ben gently carded his fingers through Lily's blonde locks, trying to carefully rid the tangles and knots in her slightly curly hair with his fingers whilst trying not to wake her up. Her head was nuzzled into his chest as she had been asleep for about an hour or so now.

Emily had kindly offered to take Lola home and look after her for the night to allow Ben to stay with Lily at the hospital. The six-year-old didn't want to be left alone and there wasn't really anyone else who could stay with her but Lola needed to go home. So Emily was caring for her for the time being and would bring her back in the morning. Ben had already suffered another row with his ex when she refused to come down and see Lily who had gone through surgery and was clearly distressed. In the end he hung up on her, not wanting to argue if it wasn't going to do anything and Lily seemed fine that Ben was with her so that was all that mattered. If the little girl had asked for her mother Ben would have tried harder to get her down here but she didn't so he saw no point.

A small smile pulled at Ben's lips when Lily reached up, gingerly interlocking their hands which stopped his hand from brushing through her hair. A motion he knew always calmed her down.

They stayed in a comfortable silence as Ben looked down at Lily who still had her eyes closed but was clearly awake now. After a little while, Ben closed his eyes, attempting to get some sleep himself but he couldn't seem to get his mind to shut down. His eyes soon opened a while later when a sudden murmur escaped Lily's lips catching his attention.

Rubbing at his eyes with the hand that wasn't tangled with her own, Ben pushed himself so he was sitting up instead of lying down. Looking down at Lily with a smile that soon faded when he noticed the look of both fear and confusion written on her features.  Her eyes were creased at the edges and burning with an emotion that he couldn't decipher. Whatever she was saying wasn't registering with him but the heart-wrenching thing was her lips. The corner of her lips on the left side were slightly sloped as if a string was controlling them and pulling them down.

A rush of 'no' passed through Ben's lips as he pressed the emergency button before he leaned back over Lily. His thumb brushing over her cheekbone to try and calm her down but it was a feeble attempt considering the speed his heart was racing at.

"Can you lift your arm up for me sweetheart?" Ben tried to control his voice so it didn't wobble or jump in pitch but it was clearly not how he normally spoke and Lily noticed. A strangled, quiet noise left her contorted lips as the muscles around her hand and arm tensed and trembled but didn't move.

How was this possible?

She was six, barely more than a toddler in Ben's eyes yet she was having some kind of stroke. This wasn't possible, it was incredibly rare for a teenager to have a stroke let alone a child of Lily's age. Ben's head snapped in the direction of the door when a nurse suddenly hurried inside. Her eyes instantly assessing the situation before she came to the same conclusion that Ben had come to. The clear shock and unsureness were plastered on her features as she grabbed a small light from her pocket.

The nurse gently lifted Lily's eyelid so she could shine the light into her eyes before she pressed something on her pager. Reaching out Ben took Lily's hand in his again when the nurse indicated that she needed to take some blood. She sat down on Lily's other side as she inserted the needle into a vein in the crease of Lily's elbow. Watching Ben gently card his other hand through her hair to try and calm her down, pressing a kiss to her forehead when she looked in pain but could only murmur something that was incoherent.

"She's having a stroke and her blood is too thick meaning it's a clot. I'm going to give her some aspirin and get a doctor to put her on another blood thinner to stop the clot."

Moving behind her the nurse grabbed a medication bottle and a needle before turning back around to face Ben, her eyes asking for permission as she filled the needle after discarding the one containing some of Lily's blood. She injected the medicine into Lily's wrist just as a doctor entered the room.

"She's six, how can she be having a bloody stroke?" Ben's eyes differed between both professionals as it was clear they didn't have an answer to give to him. All they could tell him was that this was clearly caught early and that there was a good chance there would be no brain damage. As long as the clot was broken down and no more appeared and constricted her blood vessels. But Ben couldn't see how this was happening, what was wrong to make her blood clot when she was young and ha been healthy and fine up until today?

The doctor waited just over an hour for the medication to take effect and for Lily to calm down before deciding what the next course of action would be.

Ben folded his arms over his chest as he leaned against the wall next to the door so there was a bit of distance between him and Lily so she wouldn't pick up on the conversation with the doctor that she wouldn't understand. Ben wanted answers and right now they had given him nothing. Whatever had been wrong with her heart when he brought her in was now affecting her blood and he wanted to know that they were going to do something effective to stop this before it got any worse.

"It might take a few more hours or even days for her to start speaking again and we'll have to do an MRI just to check the stroke had no lasting effects. But the best thing to do now is to drain some of her blood so there isn't as much in her veins or arteries. It's too thick and if we don't she's prone to another stroke."

"Drain it? How much are you gonna take- why is this happening now? She's been perfectly fine up until now this hasn't been a problem she's had before." Surely they couldn't be taking too much blood because that was dangerous and given her age it didn't seem safe. But Ben could see why it would help, the less pressure meant the less chance there was of a build-up in her blood vessels and he certainly didn't want her having another stroke.

"We'll take a pint, maybe two if her blood is still too thick. But I'm afraid I don't have an answer as to why until more tests are done."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Taking the bobble that was tying the toy rabbit's ears up, Ben slipped it onto his wrist, twisting it around a little to try and reduce the pressure it applied before concentrating on Lily's hair. She didn't have anything to do in here but lie down and watch tv or sleep and since she was a fidgety child that was hard. Ben didn't really like sitting around doing nothing either especially after yesterday that was spent watching over Lily and almost crying when she started to speak. Showing that she hadn't gotten any damage from the stroke which made him more relieved than he had been in his life.

Lily held her toy to her chest as she sat between Ben's legs, sitting rather still for once as he began to separate her hair into three sections ready for platting. His eyes drifted over to his sister once in a while who was sitting in the chair beside the bed, Lola on her lap as she read both girls a story that Ben was only half paying attention to.

"Daddy?" Lily's voice was quiet yet strained as Ben just started to tie the bobble around her hair. Quickly finishing it, he leaned around to look at her, frowning at the expression on her face. "My tummy hurts." Her hands pushed the toy to the end of the bed so she could wrap her arms around her middle. Her features contorting in pain as a feeble cry escaped her lips causing her to pull her knees up to her arms, her body pressing into Ben's as the sudden pain seemed to be getting worse.

Ben kept his arms around Lily's frame, holding her against him after he pressed the button for assistance, wondering what else could go wrong now. His lips pressed to the top of her head as he mumbled little nothings to her to try and calm her down but all she could do was cry. Lily wasn't great with pain in general but these past few days were like torture to her.

When the doctor came into the room Ben stood to his feet, moving Lily round so she was laying back in the middle of the bed.

"I think we'll do an MRI now." He said quietly, his head turning in Ben's direction after he pressed his hand to where Lily said she felt the pain. Ben's hand rubbed at his eyes and ran across his jaw as he felt a scream building up in the back of his throat just begging to be released. Couldn't the stroke have been the last of this? Couldn't they have found out what the problem was and stopped it before now? Because this wasn't fair to anyone anymore.

The actor had tried yet again to contact his ex and tell her that her daughter had suffered a stroke but that didn't tempt her to come down so Ben had told her he was giving up with her. There was no point him informing her about Lily's condition if she couldn't be bothered to come down and see her and if she couldn't even try and come up with an excuse as to why not. Ben had practically been a mother and father to both Lily and Lola, this was no different since he was the one fearing for Lily and comforting her and making sure she was alright.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"She's had surgery on her heart, a stroke and now a cist in her pancreas, do you have any fucking evidence that this is what's doing this or not?" Ben had no effort left to try and put a lid on his temper that was flaring through the roof. The MRI showed that Lily thankfully didn't have any lasting damage from the stroke but that she now had a cist in her pancreas which was causing her yet more pain. They had added Lily onto a different medication because it was too early and dangerous to try surgery for the cist yet.

Emily rested a hand on her brother's arm, trying to tell him that he needed to calm down but it wasn't going to work and she knew it. He had every right to be angry because they had gone here there and everywhere with reasons that simply weren't right.

Joe had come down since he was in London and was now sitting with Lily and Lola whilst Ben had an argument with the doctor in front of him who hadn't done much good up until now.

"No Em." Ben shook his head, his arm moving to pull away from her touch. "You've put her on meds that made her worse, drained her blood twice because you can't even control that and you've given me wrong diagnoses more than once. And you've told me she has some form of arthritis before realising she doesn't. Is there any evidence that this is the problem- are you one hundred percent or are you just guessing with this?"

The doctor had now told Ben that they thought it was Lily's pituitary gland that was causing the problems but to sort this out they would need to do surgery to remove the gland. That meant Lily going for brain surgery and then having to have hormone replacements for the rest of her life. Ben wasn't agreeing to this if they didn't have any evidence or if they weren't one hundred percent sure that this was the cause. He could endanger her life and ruin it if this wasn't the cause and it was down to Ben to make the decision. They needed him to sign the forms for the surgery since he was her legal guardian and parent and he had to make this decision alone. They needed to give him concrete evidence first.

"There is no proper test for this Mr Jones but all the tests we have done showed that her pituitary gland is producing a lot more hormones than your daughter can handle. It's caused her blood to thicken which affected her heart and then her brain and is now causing cists. If we don't do surgery and we wait she could get a cist in her heart and it would kill her."

Every emotion Ben felt sank down to his stomach like rocks were settling in his system and weighing him down.

If he didn't agree to this and they were right he was risking Lily's life but if he did agree and this was wrong he was ruining her life because she would have a 'relatively normal' life meaning it wouldn't be the same and it wouldn't be normal because he had signed this form. Then again, if this was right and he did sign then she wouldn't get any worse and could begin to get better.

"You're absolutely sure? There's nothing else it could be?" Ben whispered the words instead of shouting them this time because he had no choice. He couldn't say no to this because it was too great a risk to take when his daughter's life was at risk. Signing this meant that even if this wasn't the right diagnosis, it wouldn't make Lily any worse because she would be having hormone replacements for the rest of her life. They could treat this even if it wasn't the right choice to make.

When the doctor nodded his head Ben snatched the clipboard from his hand and scribbled down his name and signature in the designated spaces before handing it back. Almost throwing it back with the need to get rid of the paper that felt like a death warrant in his hand which disappeared with the doctor out of sight.

"What have I done?"

[vetisntdead]

Murder, By Internet

From the vets behaving badly blog

Feb 24, 2014

I apologize in advance for the length of this, but the story is a bit involved, and I believe illustrative.

Blood ran down my arm, across the back of my hand, and dripped onto the exam table. I stood there quietly taking the verbal abuse from an outraged pet owner, my hands resting on the metal surfaced table. It's better to let them rave themselves breathless rather than trying to interrupt. Ya learn this after a while. Once they've spewed their piece, they eventually stop to take a breath. Then they are not talking. No one can listen when they are talking. It's an A/B switch kinda thing.

I'm pretty thin skinned. Don't mean by this that I'm overly-sensitive. Far from it. Nah, I'm just old. Skin gets thinner when you get old, so when the dog rakes you with those front toenails little furrows appear, followed shortly by that red stuff. And when you follow the physician's advice and take those little aspirin daily, this inhibits platelet aggregation. Oh sorry. Big words, This means you bleed with enthusiasm from little furrows.

I learn from such encounters, even after all these decades of playing this game. I listened intently to the young man, occasionally glancing over at his embarrassed wife. I wanted to learn what he thought I'd done incorrectly. She was dumbfounded by his tirade. I was a mite taken aback myself, but I too stood there taking it in.

By the time he finished, it was completely obvious that I need not try to respond. Why waste the oxygen? This guy had it all figured out, and reality had nothing to do with our little predicament. The first words out of his mouth when he had entered the exam room with his dog, “We didn't like the last vet”, would be the first words out of his mouth at the next veterinary practice. Nothing I had to say was going to change that.

I shook my head and turned away, ignoring that little bit of his spittle hanging off his lower lip. I left him puffing in the exam room. Time to bandage the arm again.

“We should have listened to your internet reviews.”

Yeah, you should have. Thought it but didn't say it. I don't read my reviews, No point in that. But someone, (the mayor of our little city) had mentioned those reviews just the week before. Apparently next to all the good ones were two rather nasty ones. I figured I knew what those were about, and when I replied the mayor simply nodded.

One was a young woman who was incensed when I excused her dog before my exam could even begin. It had something to do with not being able to touch her vicious little dog. Her boyfriend had screamed into my face that I get paid to get bit, and I took some small exception to that bit of misinformation.

The second bad review concerned another client who announced as she entered the exam room, (yep, another who didn't like her last vet) that she was dissatisfied with the dose of the pain killing drug the last doctor had prescribed for her cat, so she had raised the dose without asking if this was appropriate.

The second sentence out of her mouth was to demand from me more of the drug, long before I had the opportunity to become familiar with the animal's condition, the history and the physical exam. I didn't jump at this opportunity for a fast sale, in as much as this was a controlled substance, and prudence suggests we not simply supply these to the public .

Numerous other demands poured from this woman's mouth with each new statement she made. And then the complaints as I began my exam. I was to do it the way she required and how dare I do it my way. I smiled and continued my exam. She continued to rail against every single thing I did. I smiled again.

Goodbye.

The mayor has been a client of mine for roughly thirty years, so I don't know why he consulted those on line reviews, but I'll get back to this thought later.

Anyway, the young couple and their dog entered my exam room. It was a busy Saturday morning and we were completely booked. We'd set aside the usual 15 minute slot for what should have been a routine visit. The chart hinted at an ear problem, and they needed a rabies vaccination. I greeted them in my usual ingratiating fashion. I'm a heck of a nice person after all. The dog was about 45 pounds of one and a half year old mix-breed.

Warning #1: “We didn't like the last vet.”

#2: Dog is wearing a harness rather than a collar. This is where self-preservation kicks in. It's kinda like how you feel when the guy walks into the convenience store wearing a ski mask. Maybe he just has bad acne, but ya still watch em closely.

#3: I get down into my squat that I use to greet every dog that comes into my exam room. This is diplomacy in the dog world. It invites the dog to come over and make friends. It often begins the process that defuses doggie anxiety in the vet's office. It makes the job easier. The friendly dogs just love it. The clients love it. And I really enjoy the dogs. This dog approaches to a four foot distance, stares at me, raises it's lip about a half inch, and then runs behind the man.

#4: “The last vet took a foxtail out of his ear.” When was this? “Last July.” OK, that's foxtail season. Seems reasonable. “But it didn't get better.” (Seemed he intimated that the other vet faked taking a foxtail out of the ear. Heard that nonsense before, too)

OK, how long has he had this ear infection? “I don't know.” Well, how old was he when you first noticed it? “He was about 7 months old.” So, about last February. And it's been infected ever since? “Yes. It didn't get better after the last vet treated it.”

Small wonder. Ears infected for a year, treated once, didn't get better. We gonna need more than 15 minutes for this.

Dog had erect ears, so from across the room I could see a bit of the inside of the ears. They were pigmented black. Bad sign. Usually takes years of neglect before the ears turn black. Turning black is scaring from chronic inflammation, and it portends other damage that is not only permanent but often requires what we call salvage surgery to keep the dog from suffering needlessly. Poor dog's owners clearly lacked the clue.

The young woman showed me the crinkled flattened tube of ear infection medicine. It contained plenty to treat the ears for the usual 10-14 day treatment. “We've been using this ever since, and he didn't get better.”

Sigh.

Without understanding the reasons for chronic or recurring ear infections in dogs, the poor owners who are treating these ears are unlikely to get it right. No knock on owners ( this time), but when not handled correctly such infections often turn into disasters, and even when handled correctly they are often not cured, but merely managed. The sun comes up in the east, and some dog ear infections are extremely challenging to treat. That's just how it is.

Educating pet owners is the single most important thing veterinarians do. This is how we best help the animals. It is critical. It prevents a lot of the preventable disasters. It is also the most challenging aspect of the job. (there he goes, picking on pet owners again) So I spent a half hour explaining the basics to this young couple. My receptionist stopped by to wag two fingers in my face. The next two clients were already waiting. But I was getting somewhere with these two and I didn't want to stop. They seemed to be learning.

Now you might wonder why I still hadn't examined this dog. Normally, this would precede the education part, but I like to give the fearful dogs time to become accustomed to the room and me, and it gives me time to defuse some of the anxiety or hostility residing in the owners, for they set these dogs off by how they react. So I laid on the whole lesson, going back over each concept in different ways when they didn't understand. I'm good at this. Done it for decades. Most clients thank me once they figure things out. I made my other clients wait while investing important time with this couple. It began to feel as if we might make this work.

The time arrived when I would try to examine the dog. Prospects for this hadn't improved much. The dog still would not come over to sniff me. It had sniffed the entire room, wandered out of the room when the owner didn't pull him back by the leash, but never once approached me. You don't simply reach for a dog behaving like this.

I got into my squat again, and it approached to that same 4 feet, and then headed for the other side of the room. The man holding the leash stood right beside me. His dog was over there, giving me the eye. Silly veterinarians often wonder why the owners don't simply use the leash to pull the dog to them so we can actually do our job. Rarely happens. So after a bit, I reached up and took the leash from his hand, and gently pulled the dog toward me. He stopped at that magic 4 foot distances. A bit more tug on the leash as I entreated the dog to come. Harness goes up and over head, landing limply on the floor. Dog hurries over to stand beside the woman, over there.

I held up the useless and turned to the man. “This is why you don't use a harness. They give you no control over your dog.”

Woman stands next to dog. Doesn't grab his collar. Doesn't try to bring the dog over to me. Man does nothing. Woman speaks, “Maybe I should leave the room. He gets real protective of me.”

Ah...warning #5. I shouldn't need to explain this one.

I turn to look at the man standing next to me. Why don't you go over there, take the dog by the collar, and bring him over here? A novel concept he had apparently not considered.

He squats next to me, dog cradled between his legs, biting part facing out. Perfectly wrong set up for dealing with an untrained fearful dog.

I take collar and pull dog in front of me. He lunges left, he lunges right, he lunges left again. I hold collar. He stops lunging and I turn him to face away and induce him to sit. Soft calming voice, praising him for a sit, petting and scratching his back. He settles a bit. I touch an ear.

Dog lunges left, dog lunges right. For expedience I will not repeat this part over and again. The dog did. Take my word for it. After some considerable time, I give up on examining ears. I turn to look at the man who is still squatting right next to me. No attempt whatsoever to control his own dog.

Your dog really needs a good obedience training course. Not only will it teach him to behave, but it will impart him with some badly needed confidence so he won't misbehave like this. Nothing.

OK, enough wasted time. I give the dog his rabies vaccine, and go to stand up. Dog launches one more time, spinning in a circle, which locks my hand in the collar. Not a good thing if he begins to nibble on my arm. Manage to untangle my hand without injury, but dog rears on his hind legs and rakes my arm with his claws. I know that feeling. I'm done with dog and turn him loose.

I'm washing the blood off my arm when the man launches on me. He doesn't like how I held his dog by the collar. Really? How else does one hold a dog by the collar? Silly me. Took me a bit before I realized that he didn't want the dog held at all. That thing where I always say that the use of a harness is the owner's concession that he has no desire to control the dog at all. That's this guy.

So I stood beside my exam table, bleeding, while he assailed me. And then I walked out of the room, bandaged my arm, and then put on my smile for the next client. Excuse me for trying to help. The day went on, as they have for all these decades.

Will this guy put up a bad review on line? Don't know. Don't care. I don't read reviews. I don't defend myself when a bad one shows up. Don't care. My practice has been growing for decades because satisfied clients send their friends to me, and people who don't like how I try to help their animals are welcome find someone who does it differently. Lot's of ways to skin a cat. (sorry cat lovers)

Does it hurt my feelings after all these years of dedicating my life to helping people and their pets to have someone scream at me like that. Yeah....a little. I got into this profession to help, and I've sacrificed a lot to continue doing this for a lifetime. Mostly it is rewarding. Sometimes it breaks my heart.

So why the longs story? Well, last week a few people killed a veterinarian I know.

Oh, they didn't poke her with a knife or shoot her with a gun. But they killed her.

Shirley was in practice for over thirty years, and although a bit unconventional at times, she was always compassionate, up to date, hard working. She finally got the chance to start her own little practice. On a shoestring, she opened a small place in the city of New York. As all start-ups do, it was a struggle. The economy still sucked. The weather sucked. The likely illegal collusion between landlord, banker, contractor and maybe even organized crime nearly bankrupted her. But it took crazy cat ladies to kill her.

A feeder of feral cat colonies in the city adopted a cat from a shelter and then turned it loose in a city park, in the snow and the 2014 winter, to struggle on its own. This lady thinks this is good for cats. Some friends of hers brought the sick cat to Shirley for a medical problem, but of course declined most everything necessary due to cost. So as she had done in the past, Shirley asked them to surrender their cat so she could care for it and then try to find it a nice home. Because they could not provide properly for the cat, they agreed. Later, the woman who had turned the cat loose in the park showed up to claim the cat, and Shirley refused. She didn't want to see the cat abandoned again. And she didn't at that point even know who owned the cat. For she had been duped into believing the first two people owned it.

That's when it started. Vicious evil people have the same voice on the internet as the rest. An organized assault on Shirley began on the net. An on-line blog that specializes in character assassination zeroed in on her. Protesters with signs lined the street in front of her hospital, and had to be removed from her clinic by the police. People who had no idea of the facts hopped on board with the mob because the evil rich veterinarian deserved it. They were vicious, conscienceless, and evil. But they got their wish.

Shirley killed herself the other night.

And the vermin on the blog celebrated, cheering her death in their posts.

Ask any veterinarian out here. This hurts us. So I guess they win.

[susielindau]

Have you ever taken a mouth-to-mouth resuscitation class? I took one for a babysitting badge when I was in Girl Scouts. I remember the plastic dummy and going through the routine while hoping to God I’d never have to use it. Flash forward a few decades.

On March 9th, I flew back to Wisconsin for my mom’s eighty-seventh birthday. My brother, Joe McCartan, ordered a cake and I picked up flowers. Mom was so surprised! Over dinner that night, she told us she planned to live a long time. For her one-hundredth birthday, she wants a stylist to dye a blue streak in her hair. I love her attitude.

My brother is the king of joking around. I couldn’t get a picture of him when he wasn’t mugging for the camera.  When I left Colorado it was seventy degrees. Check out the temperature on my brother’s iPad.

Two days later, Joe drove to the butcher to buy steaks to grill and went to a chiropractic appointment. In February, he slid on black ice and crashed his car into a telephone pole. It exacerbated an already sore back.

Later, the three of us watched the UW Badgers cream Northwestern by thirty points. Being a yawnfest, Joe texted on his phone. He’s a highly sought after, free-lance, on-location sound technician for major networks, television, movies and corporations. Very excited, he read the thread out loud. It regarded a commercial he had been hired to record. The company wanted to shoot tight shots of musicians playing the oboe, violin and cello. He had texted the high school music teacher, who had all kinds of ideas.

“The kids will love being in a commercial.” Joe was stoked.

“Sounds like you contacted the right person,” I said and yawned. “I think I’ll take a quick nap.” I walked upstairs to my room.

When I returned downstairs, Mom played Words with Friends in the kitchen while the steaks thawed in a pan. I had planned to walk the dog, but Joe had already left with Charlie. I opened my laptop and wrote my last post about daylight savings time. After dinner I thought it would be fun to play a game and take some group selfies.

Always pretty high energy, Joe burst through the door led by their Collie.

“I just missed you,” I said, looking up from my computer.

“Yep,” was all he said. Then he ran up the back stairs to his apartment behind my mom’s Victorian. I heard his footsteps overhead and then settled in to proof my stupid post.

He moved in a year before my dad passed away and has been taking care of Mom. He’s been a godsend, taking her to appointments, shopping and the little things, like setting the table for meals. He brings her tea and puts her eyedrops in before bed. My mom is super sharp, but has glaucoma and hasn’t been able to drive for years.

When Joe didn’t come downstairs, Mom said, “What’s taking him so long? We need to get the steaks on the grill.”

I shrugged and more time passed.

“Go check on Joe,” she said. “I don’t want to eat at 8:00.”

“Give him a few more minutes,” I said, knowing he liked his privacy.

A few more minutes passed and I ran upstairs.

I opened his door and peeked inside. “Hey, Joe!” I shouted. You have to walk through a kitchen to get to the large open, living and dining space.

“Joe! Time to make dinner,” I shouted through the doorway.

No response.

I stepped inside and saw him chilling in front of the computer. His arms relaxed on the armrests, his head was cocked backward and his mouth hung open.

“No wonder you didn’t hear me. You’re sound asleep.”

Still no response.

Something was wrong. “Joe! JOE!” I raced up to him and patted his pale cheeks.

No response.

“Oh, my God!” I felt for a pulse in his neck, but couldn’t find one. His lips were white. He wasn’t breathing. I screamed to my mom. She called 911, hysterical when the operator didn’t understand what was going on. I used my fingertips on his wrist and heard quick taps racing across the surface. Were they mine? 

Just like I’d been taught all those years ago, I started mouth-to-mouth and alternated with the CPR technique I’d learned on the Internet. One, two, three, four, staying alive, staying alive… I’m sure only minutes passed, but it seemed like an hour before the first responders arrived. They tried everything, but couldn’t get a pulse. Hope slipped away.

The paramedics came and hooked up a CPR machine and breathing tube. I went downstairs to check on my mom. Her friends, Kathy and Roger Roth, consoled her on the couch. Time passed. I ran back upstairs. “Did you get a pulse?”

“No, nothing,” one of the paramedics replied. I felt so guilty. I didn’t do it right. I could have saved him, but I failed! I couldn’t stop sobbing.

After answering tons of questions about his health, I went back downstairs. By that time, the funeral director, Bill Hurtley, and the priest from across the street, Fr. Dooley, had arrived. I got to know and love both of them when they took care of my dad’s funeral. Bill brought my mom back from her catatonic state with his dry humor.

Anxiety filled my empty stomach with broken glass. I turned to Bill for support. “I wrote a stupid blog post and didn’t come upstairs in time. I screwed up. I could’ve saved him.” Tears streamed down my cheeks.

He looked me in the eyes and said, “You found him relaxed in his chair, right?”

I nodded.

“There was nothing you could do. He threw a clot,” Bill said.

“What?”

“A blood clot. Believe me, I see a lot of dead people,” he said. “It’s what I do. Heart attacks are pretty uncomfortable. The victim has time to react, so we usually find them on the floor. Throwing a blood clot is painless. It happens to runners all the time. They go for a run and as soon as they sit in a chair, they die.”

“Why am I here if I couldn’t save him?” I asked.

“For your mother,” he said. “If she would have discovered him, it would’ve been a shock she would never have recovered from.” He took a moment and added, “Don’t blame yourself. Even if someone throws a clot in the hospital, no one can save them.”

An autopsy would have cost five to six thousand dollars. Bill insisted it would be a waste of money. Pulmonary embolism. It’s what people get from sitting too long on planes. Who knows where Joe got his clot. Surgery two years ago? The accident? Bumping into something and not telling anyone about it? We’ll never know. He wasn’t on blood thinners. I’m taking a baby aspirin now.

Alive and vibrant one minute and then gone the next. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.

My little brother, who towered more than a foot over me, who did lotus position yoga with me when he was little for giggles, who I took to all kinds of concerts and events when I was in high school and college since I feared our almost ten year age difference would cause us to drift apart. My little brother who I loved dearly is dead at forty-nine years old. I was only a few steps away. How can that be?

He was a saxophone player in a band and was a local celebrity. He worked with people all across the United States. His Facebook and funeral home page are filled with heartfelt shock and condolences. We planned his funeral for March 25th at St. Paul’s Church across the street from their home in Evansville.

Being the writer in the family, I had to write his obituary. It was tough enough when I wrote my dad’s and felt tremendous pressure to do Joe’s life justice. His friend and co-worker, videographer Eric Janisch helped fill in the work details. You can read Joe’s obit here.

Two things I discovered on my own might help others.

I couldn’t get the image of him sitting in the chair out of my head. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him. I must not have blinked the whole time I ran toward him. I stayed up all night. It was the same the next day as neighbors and relatives arrived. My husband, Danny, flew out that afternoon. As I drove toward the Dane County Airport I noticed some perfectly formed trees silhouetted in the snow. I picked one and stared at it as I drove toward it. I closed my eyes and saw the tree. It totally worked. That horrific last image of Joe disappeared, at least from my retinas.

Exhausted, I didn’t dare take a nap. Experiencing the shock all over again upon waking is the worst. In the past it has taken weeks for my brain to wrap itself around death. I wondered if saying it out loud to myself would speed up the process. I gave it a try. “Joe is dead. He died and you couldn’t save him. He’s not coming back.” I repeated it again before I picked up Danny and then twice before falling asleep. It worked.

Danny and I have lost half our families in two years; his bother and mom, my dad, then his mom’s boyfriend of fifteen years and now, my brother. It’s devastating to lose the people we love.

What about that quick tapping in Joe’s wrist? I hadn’t told anyone. Even though others shared the cause of death idea, I still wondered if it was instant as the funeral director and doctor claimed.

Days later, I remembered. “Make sure to lay your fingers across the wrist or you’ll feel your own pulse,” the instructor had told the Girl Scouts. I held my husband, Danny’s wrist in a different way. A strong slow pulse throbbed beneath his bones. No quick tapping on the surface. It had been mine I felt, not Joe’s.

There was nothing I could do. He had already passed.

How am I? Better. I’m grateful for the time we had together. Looking back, the timing of my visit seems serendipitous. I’ll embrace my grief and will remember him always.

Spring is emerging after a long winter dormancy. I see everything more intensely now and understand life’s fragility. Everyone will die. Life is impermanent. The trick is to live each day with appreciation and wonder.

In memory of my brother, I will start a nightly journal. I’ll list three positive things that happened during the day. He would’ve liked that.

What about my mom?

Many of her friends have offered to help. At this point, she won’t consider moving to Colorado with my brother and dad inurned in Madison. We’ll do whatever it takes to celebrate her one-hundredth birthday. I want to see her rock that blue streak.

I Celebrated a Birthday, But Failed to Save a Life. Have you ever taken a mouth-to-mouth resuscitation class? I took one for a babysitting badge when I was in Girl Scouts.