Speaking Up

In August of 2016, I opted to have a Baclofen pump implanted  in my abdomen. It was my hope that the pump would help reduce the spasticity in my affected leg allowing me to run again. Of course my decision was based on more than just running. I wanted to be able to keep up with my boys, be less conscious of how I walk and gain the confidence I had lost.  I understood that the pump is only a tool, and I would need to put in the work to reach my goals.  And I was and am willing to put in the work.  I stretched, exercised and stretched some more. I am putting in the effort to rewire my brain to recognize that my foot is actually a part of my body.

One year and two months later,  I have not seen much success from the pump.  I  noticed small changes like my foot no longer curls up allowing me to wear sandals again (yay!), my foot now lifts completely from the ground allowing for a much easier heel to toe movement. Although it still happens once in a while, my leg no longer swings out from my hip when I walk. Otherwise, the spasticity is still high which results in  my leg still feeling like it is 50 pounds heavier than the rest of my body, my knee still does not bend when i walk giving me a very awkward gait and poor balance. 

One might think that running is simply putting one foot in front of the other in a faster pace than walking.HA! The biomechanics of running is complicated so I will not even try to explain, but let the experts educate you.  

All my life I have been conditioned to listen to my doctor and to follow orders without question.  After all, doctors know everything, right? Naah.

My email to my doctor got an auto “out of office reply” so I am waiting for him to get back so I could discuss my issue with the pump.  I have been warned that the tone in my leg might be what is holding me up.  Hence, the hesitation to raise the dose.  I have told the doctor that I feel it is much easier to work with no tone, than too much tone. I’ve not tested this theory, but i am willing to try if I am given the chance.  I am willing to take the chance. So, bring it on!

I understand doctors are cautious, I understand there are protocols to follow but I know my body. I know how far and how hard I can push myself.  

The New York City Marathon is happening next weekend. NYCM is my bucket list race and it was my goal to run the 26.2 miles this year. I have not given up.

I may have overestimated the “power” of the ITB pump, but I do know that I had put in the work. And I am willing to put in more. 

Much love,

Momma Berna

 

 

To know Me is to Understand Me

I am sure you are all familiar with “knowledge is power”.  It is a well-worn adage thrown around as part of valedictorian speeches & candidate statements during campaign season.  Commuters have been enlightened by the phrase through bumper stickers for ages.

We expect professionals to be knowledgeable in their fields. Heck we expect them to be downright geniuses at their chosen profession. This is especially true for our medical providers.

Thankfully, most of the medical professionals I have met are very knowledgeable.  They have a very good grasp of issues related to strokes & their treatment.

Knowledge is gained through education & experience. Keeping up to date with the latest information, research & constant study helps expand knowledge in their chosen field.

But just because doctors know what they are treating, does that mean they understand their patients?  

Knowing how medications work, how our bodies are supposed to work and how those meds affect our body, are great qualifications, but for me it isn’t enough. 

As knowledgeable as my doctors and therapists are, I certainly would be appreciative if they also understand me as a person. Understanding is acquired on a deeper, psychological and personal level. I would like to be treated beyond being just a  diagnosis and medical record number.  I want this because if someone understands who I am and what my goals are, we could together forge clearer path to reaching that goal.

I met with a new physical therapist recently. As we enter her office, before I even sat down her first words to me were “You know, it has been 3 years, you should not expect too much progress right?” I slowly sat down, took a deep breath and worked on not crying my eyes out. I told her “ I will run again”. To which she replied “you could always try the paralympics”.  Her words hurt and hit me hard.  Not that paralympics  is a bad thing, but up until that moment the thought of being a paralympian has never crossed my mind. I was and is still convinced that I will regain my “normal” running legs. I wish she had taken the time to speak to me first, get to know who I am and talk to me about my goals before she abruptly told me about the paralympics. It would also have appreciated a little more information about the paralympics before she sprung it on me. 

The psychologist  I saw pretty much said the same thing. She gave me the “you’ve plateaued” speech.  I made an appointment with this psychologist because I wanted to talk about my frustrations and anxieties about my recovery. The first thing I told her was “I don’t want anymore meds.” She went through her list of questions, I opened up a bit. Then she says “I’m going to set up an appointment with one of our psychiatrist, he can talk to you about maybe adding more medications or increasing your dose. I met with her wanting to have someone i could objectively speak to  regarding my fears, anxieties & frustrations about my recovery.  I did not want  someone who will medicate me to numbness.  She continued to insist on medications. I did not make a return appointment.

Hospital staff & medical professionals are short on time. They are under pressure to get patients in & out of the clinic in order to serve more people.  But taking a few minutes to ask questions, looking beyond a medical record would mean so much to the patient who you will see on a regular basis. Be a person we can trust to not judge our deficiencies and dismiss our goals. Be one who is willing to help us reach those goals. If the goals are unrealistic, please meet us in the middle and help us to get there. Stroke survivors fight daily to overcome our deficits. Although, we have support from our family and friends It really helps to have our medical professionals understand us so that all of our bases are covered.  Healing and recovery goes on much smoothly if we are well supported.

What would you want your doctors or therapists to understand about you?

Do you feel that you are able to talk to your medical team and express your needs & goals?

P.S I have been seeing the same PT, we’ve had a couple of sessions since that fateful first meeting. I believe I have shown her what I am capable of achieving. Her & I are now working hard to get me back to running!

 

This is Me

Hello there. Perhaps you are thinking” oh no, here comes another blogger who thinks she knows everything.” Sshhhh… It’s true I know everything! (just kidding there are days when getting out of bed is my greatest accomplishment). Have you had days like that?  Days when you feel you’ve opened your eyes in the morning and that was your version of waking up? Are there days when you feel that your brain is stuck under a glass fish bowl and everyone is tapping on the glass? You can see people and hear people, but they are much too loud and it is difficult to filter out the voices from the noise. At that moment, it is all noise.

Then there are  days when your own brain & body is your enemy.  It is as if someone made a voodoo doll of you and they relentlessly sticking pins and needles on different parts of your body.

What’s worse still is that no one in your close circle of family and friends quite understand what you are going through? It is difficult enough to explain, it is much harder for anyone else to empathize.  

You have been given a journey on a road you didn’t wish to travel. And along this road, you feel that you are traveling alone without a GPS. And it’s hard to find anyone to ask for directions.

I hope that I can offer you the information, support & encouragement you need to get through rough times. When you feel alone and  misunderstood, I hope to be able to give you company.  And hearing from you would also help me know that I am not alone. That there a community we all can fall back to in tough, painful times.

half marathin finish
One week and two days before the stroke, I finished the SF Nike Half marathon (13.1 miles)

You see about 3 years ago, I was an average mom, living an average life and doing extraordinary things to stay healthy. I was running 10 plus miles a week and racing 5&10ks and some half marathons on the weekends. I was an average runner who was only competing with myself.  In October of 2014, I had a massive stroke. I was in and out of consciousness for about two weeks ( so I was told), and when I came to, my first words were “I need to get out of here, I have a 10k to run on Thanksgiving.” I was not aware that I was then deemed disabled.  My legs which took me to many finish lines, allowed me to meet the best friends that I have are no longer working. That reality did not quite hit me until the first day of physical therapy in intensive rehab.

There are have been successes and defeats in my recovery. I am surprised that I am now tearing up as I type.  I am sure there will be more struggles and success in the future. I can only use one hand to type right now, so please pardon spelling & grammatical errors.

Please join me. Read my story as we can travel this rough road together. Surviving is the first step, the rest of the journey is to thrive.

P.S. I participated in a 7 day launch your blog challenge and this was the final assignment. I know I had done an intro in the past,  but looking back this is a more focused and better composed intro. It is a testament to me that my brain is still healing.

 

Much Love,

Momma Berna

Do You Have the Time?

Let’s talk about doctor’s appointments. No one ever really looks forward to them, they take up a lot of time and we don’t usually get the best news from a doctor’s office ( don’t eat that, lose this, start doing that).  So when we head to an appointment, we already some anxiety building up.

Earlier this week, I had an appointment with the Physical Rehab & Medicine doctor. My husband and I left the house one hour before the appointment which was 11 miles away. But this is the Bay Area and the traffic is a nasty bitch.  Even with the extra time, we were going to be late.  I called the office to let them know. The person I spoke with asked how late will we be, I said about ten minutes. She replied “Oh okay, that’s fine. If it’s fifteen minutes, we will have to reschedule”.  We made it and were only five minutes late! Yay! I checked in & was informed that the doctor was running 20 minutes late! Half an hour later, they called me in. As soon as I stepped into the exam room, I was once again told “the doctor will be right with you, he is with another patient.” Really ? Really? I called to tell them we were running late, they couldn’t have told me “ oh that’s ok, take your time. Tell you what, stop by and grab a coffee. “ Instead, I was sat in the exam room for another 25 minutes. I had done some complaining on Facebook and the only magazine in the room was a year old copy of Arthritis Monthly. It was a bad time for me to leave my Kindle at home.  I was scheduled for an adjustment of my Baclofen pump and Botox for my arm.  The doctor arrived, apologetic. He apologized for being late and he apologized for not having the adjustment machine! There is only one for the Santa Clara area. Hey, I know medical equipment can be expensive, but this is a big hospital system!

I  got Botox shots for my wrist & hand. I have to choose where I think it would be most helpful as I can only get so much Botox at a time.  The Botox is only effective for three months, so in those three months I have to work, work, work my hand! See, all these treatments are temporary. The hard work of re-wiring is all up to me.

I made another appointment for the adjustment,  keeping my fingers crossed they will have the machine that day. Getting to appointments is still complicated as I am not driving yet. The doctor wants to do another assessment.

Thank you for reading through my rant. I know it is WAY too much to expect to get a courtesy call from doctor’s offices to let their patients know that they are running late or them to consider that our time is valuable too. 

Have you had an experience similar to mine?

Does your clinic or doctor give you a courtesy call if they are running late?

Much Love, 

Momma Berna

I Didn’t Hit a Wall, I Straight Up Ran Head First Into It.

The Brazen Western Pacific race was my first ever 10k back in 2013.  I planned on making this year’s race as my first post stroke 10k. I trained, I was pumped and I was ready. I asked my son Vincent to run this race with me.

I had trained, I walked around the neighborhood, walking up the hill and even attempting runs around the city track. Tuesday before the race, I walked/run 4 miles and I still felt good afterwards.

So hopeful at the start line.
My favorite oldest son.

 I posted my flat runner on social media and admitted I was a bit nervous for the following day. I was excited to do this race with Vincent. My plan was to have him run the 10k, finish get his medal and then have him wait for me at the last mile. He said “No, I want to stay and walk with you”. He gave me a boost of confidence!  So we line up at the start, took the obligatory start line selfies and off we went! I decided to run intervals for this race. I did not use this method while training, but I figured it wasn’t going to make a lot of difference since while training, I run/walk anyway. I set my Garmin for a 2 min run 1 min walk. Vincent was goofing around (it’s nice to be at the back of the pack coz we had the trail to ourselves!) doing walking lunges during the walk phase on the intervals. Of course that didn’t last very long. Ha!

Cross Training?

We kept up with the 2:1 intervals. It was 9:30 and it was already getting warm!  I had lots of water in my pack so I wasn’t worried. Vincent & I were chatting and having a nice time. After the two mile mark, a very nice woman stopped me and told me how inspired she was to see me out there. She’s also had her share of health issues and she started crying, which of course set me off crying too!  She ran the 10k and was on her last mile. She told me “no matter how long it takes you to finish, the important thing is that you finish!” I had her words in my head for the rest of the race. I had to finish.

My son was very impressed with the kindness and encouragement of the runners. He asked me how I knew all these people, I told him I didn’t know them,  runners are just nice like that!

As we approach the turn around for  the 10k, my leg started spazzing out. When my affected left leg spasms, it will kick out uncontrollably.  I had to stop, stretch out a bit then continue. As with all Brazen races, the aid station was stocked with all kinds of goodies. Orange slices, candy, pretzels everything a runner needs to fuel up. I helped myself to some oranges hoping to get my energy level up again. We headed back. Vincent was getting very worried as I was  leaning onto him while walking. I was determined to finish. A few runners were stopping to ask if I needed pain relief, others asked if they could get a course monitor to get help. I really must be looking pretty bad. I urged Vincent to keep walking. I was slowing down, but I wanted to finish. We were at 4.20 mi! (yes, my kid thought it would be funny to take a pic of my Garmin at 4.20)

4:20, runner, distance
Somehow this is funny!

 I keep trying to convince him to continue we were so close!  Mind over matter right? Focus on the finish! One step at a time.  I had filled my mind with positive self talk (they didn’t work). I kept moving. I was willing my leg to move. I was literally talking  to my leg out loud “swing, land on heel, roll to toe.”  Since I was using my right to compensate for my left, I started having shooting pains going up my right leg.  Vincent was clearly worried. It was nearing 11:30 am and the sun was beating down on us. Many of the runners could tell I was in trouble. Vincent had already asked one of the returning runners to let people the next aid station know that we neeeded help (despite my protests).

At this point, the lines of communication between my leg and brain have completely stopped. My foot was rolling over at every step, my leg was frozen and i was completely hunched over to my right. As hard as it was, it was time to admit defeat.  A runner helped my son walk me to the bench. It was clear that walking was not happening. As we sat waiting for help to arrive, I was still contemplating the last mile. It was so close. I tried standing up, but Vincent held me back. I saw relief on Vincent’s face when the ranger’s truck finally pulled up and he had the a/c on at full blast.

As we were nearing the finish area I could hear Sam (the Brazen race coordinator)calling out the names of the finishers, the audience cheering and I could see the happy, triumphant faces of the runners. I was devastated. I had let myself down, my brain worked against me. I so wanted this to be a victory, not just for me but for other stroke survivors as well. I wanted my family & friends to be proud of me. I feel that I had let a lot of people down. The exhaustion that I felt from the race, did not measure up to the sadness, pain and disappointment I felt inside.

Now that a few days have passed since the race, I’ve had some time to think about what happened. Although I didn’t finish the race, I still tried my best. I am grateful to have a 19 year old son who still likes to hang out with his crazy momma. He and I got to witness the kindness of other runners who were willing to help and lend support when we were in need.

I have also received so many positive feedback and support from my family and friends. Am I still sad about this? Yes, I definitely am. I am also still experiencing pain in my hip and shoulder. My brain is still a bit foggy. Neuro fatigue takes a bit longer to recover from.

I am sad and disappointed. But I’m in no way stopping! I might lick my wounds for a few days, rest up the old noggin and come up with a better training plan. There will be another race, another 10k and I will come back!

Thank you, thank you to everyone who slowed down, stopped and offered encouragement, Advil, Bio-freeze and Gu. i know those few seconds mattered in terms of a PR.

I would like to give a special shout out to  my son Vincent for putting up with me. We had nice conversations and talked about anything under the sun.  He knew I wanted to finish the race, so he tried his best to give me emotional boosts and physical support. He was propping me up, urging me to keep walking. But it came to a point where he knew it was time to just stop. In his gut, he knew I could be in danger. I am grateful to him for looking out for me.

sons, family,love,stroke survivor mom
Vincent was my hero for the day.

 

 

Much love,

Momma Berna

P.S. I was able to connect with the runner I spoke with on the trail. Thank you social media! She is one brave, inspirational woman! This is her Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/lifeinthedayofarunner

 

 

 

 

Who Takes Care of the Caregivers?

I know family dynamics are never static. No matter how solid a family’s foundation is, changes will happen. The stroke changed my family dynamics in a way not one of us anticipated.

Prior to the stroke, I was the planner of vacations, i driver of the children & the organizer of the things: events, school projects, doctor’s appointments, shopping etc. etc. I was also the finder of lost things. True story: when I was conscious enough in the hospital, one of the boys would ask where some things are in the house. I could from my hospital bed, give them  point by point directions to where the wanted/needed item was. Waze is not even that precise.

The realization that things will be very different when I get home hit me square in the face during family day in rehab. My husband, the boys & my sister were all there. They were being taught the things that they will need to assist me with after discharge.  I would need to be assisted to the bathroom, I will need help in the shower, getting in & out of bed, getting in & out of the car. I also learned from the occupational therapist  that my drivers license got suspended. 

sons, support group, hospital, love,caregivers,carer, rehab hospital, Kaiser rehab
My boys had to grow up quick.

The moment I left acute rehab, my family became my caregivers. With my husband Armando,  my primary caregiver.  He had to dole out my meds & make sure I take them on time (no he didn’t check if I was cheeking my meds), he had to learn to give me my blood thinner shots (thank God that didn’t last too long)  and had to help me keep myself presentable. My kids have to help cut up my food, get me around the house, and get me in and out of the car.  My mom, who should have been enjoying her retirement once again had to: prepare my food, push me in the wheelchair around the house, and generally fuss over me.

I am so very grateful that I had such a strong family behind me. My sister pitched in whenever she can, my in laws came by to help out.

It is a lot of  physical & emotional work being a caregiver. My job was to get well, rehabilitate and rest. Everyone else around me still had their regular lives to live. They still have jobs, school and homelife.  

If you are getting nursing assistance from an outside service, thank your lucky stars. For most people, it is family that takes on this role.

Armando being my husband/nurse has it’s up & downs. There are times when I can sense that Armando was being stretched too thin.  He will not openly admit it, but after 20 plus years with him, I had gotten good at reading him. Before he gets to the breaking point, I kick him out of the house.  I just want him to get a break. Get out of the house, hang out with friends and do guy stuff.  

One of the pitfalls of having family, specially your significant other, be your caregiver is the lines of your relationship becomes blurred.  He wasn’t just a husband, a friend, a lover any more. He was also my nurse. He was responsible for my physical & mental well being.  This past two years and a half years have put us  through the ringer. There are times when Nurse Armando was around more than husband Armando which led to resentment.  As I become more independent, Armando and I are slowly rebuilding and redefining our relationship.   We now go on regular dates, laugh like we used to, fight like we used to and talk like we used to.

llife companion, caretaker,rehab
Race walking together.

He is slowly moving away from the caregiver role and back to  the husband role. He of course still takes care of the boys and I the majority of the time, I can’t complain…erm… I am grateful to wake up mornings with homemade (not out of the box) blueberry scones.  We are talking about travel plans and not just treatment plans, we are focusing on healthy habits and not just taking my meds on time.

Life is definitely far from normal. I am still moving slow, I still need help doing things in the kitchen, but I am able to manage.

Our caregivers only want what’s best for us, but they must not ignore their own health and well-being. Caregiver burnout is detrimental to both the patient and the carer. Depression, anxiety and physical illness could be  manifestations of burnout. (Get more info here)

 

To other survivors out there, how have your relationship changed with your caregivers?

To the caregivers, how do you practice self-care?

Much Love,

Momma Berna

I Hit Send

Whew! I’ve had my mailing list set-up on MailChimp for like forever. The email where I invite people I know, people I have interacted with and family members to introduce them to my blog.  You see, some of them don’t have face-insta-twit or they are just  not a part of my social media circle.

I have had the list set-up, formatted, re-formatted for a couple of months now. I have been too worried to hit send because…well…I am afraid. I am afraid of rejection, I am afraid of criticism etc. etc.  But fear will not move me forward nor will it help me get my story out. So today, I clicked send.

But even with just one hand to type and getting seriously brain tired after a few sentences, I’ve got a story to tell! I may not tickle your fancy like E.L James, or give you nightmares like Stephen King (he, is the reason I am afraid of– no why I hate clowns).  So if this is your first time here on my blog, welcome. Stay for a bit, I hope you enjoy what you read and come back. If you have visited before, welcome back. I do hope you keep coming back.

Now that I’ve hit send remember I am just a girl, sitting by her laptop, waiting for you all to read my story 😉

 

Much Love,

Momma Berna

 

The Stroke Survivors Club

I belong to a stroke survivor support group. Recently, one of the members welcomed someone new with words along the lines of; “Welcome to the club, the membership fee to enter is hefty, but you will be surrounded by a great group of people.”  What stuck with me were the words “the membership fee is hefty”.  It has never crossed my mind that I now belong to the Stroke Survivors Club. I do not remember filling out an application. It is not a club that anyone would willingly want to belong. And yet, here I am.  And yes, I paid a high price for my membership.  And unfortunately, there are no refunds.

Club membership includes my family.  They were recruited and have been drafted to be my helpers. I’m quite sure it wasn’t what they were expecting to be doing at this point of their lives.

family, strong family, stroke support,
Nothing beats the support of family.

The Stroke Survivors Club does not discriminate. All ages, races and status are welcome.  And your recovery will be made better with the support of family and friends.

There are some perks. There’s the premier parking spot which comes in handy specially around the holidays 🙂   Kidding aside, this club will help you find out how strong you really are. The challenges you will encounter is not for the faint hearted.  survivor strength, survivor strongNo one asked to be in this club.  Membership is for life. But you will learn about yourself, you will learn about who you can trust and who you can rely on. You will learn to fight. And fight hard you will. You will fight professionals telling you that you have reached the end of your recovery, you will fight against yourself when a little voice inside you tells you it’s time to give up. You will fight negativity from people around you.

The Stroke Survivors Club is comprised of warriors. We are warriors who have faced great challenges and have found a way to surmount them.  And we keep on fighting.

Much love,

MommaBerna 

Medicare Don’t Care

It’s the start of the new year and I am sure there are people who have all their resolutions for the New Year in place.  I on the other hand, have spent the last month hanging on a limbo of medical insurance quandary.  Ah heck, the whole month of December, my family and have spent each day hoping to not get sick, not get injured, not get anything that would need medical intervention.

Don’t get me wrong. This insurance lapse is not due to our negligence. We had expected our COBRA through Armando’s work to end on December 1st, 2016. So we got our crap together. Well we thought we did anyway. Got all my meds refilled, saw the doctors we needed to see and had arranged for private insurance through Covered California. This is the route we have to take since my husband is now working for himself.  I was not too worried for myself since in July of 2015, I received a letter from Social Security that although I am not eligible for disability payments, I am qualified to receive Medicare in October of 2016.  So, I felt confident that I was covered and I was also relieved that we would be getting some financial savings on our health insurance.

So, it looked like we had everything set, right? Well, not so much.  On December 3, Scotty had a wrestling tournament and landed on his knee the wrong way. Trusting that we have health insurance, I tried to log in to the insurance website to schedule a video appointment. I tried unsuccessfully logging in a few times, so (I had to resort to making a phone call and (gasp) talk to a real person.  That was when I found that none of us were insured. And all for different reasons! I mean what were the chances? Since Armando took care of the boys’ insuance, I was only able to get info for myself.  I was confident that Medicare had me covered since I had also had applied for supplemental insurance. Imagine my shock when I found out Medicare will not cover me til April of 2017. I could not get any more info from the woman since she did not work for Medicare. I was hit with a sense of dread. I cannot be without insurance. The sense of uncertainty was over whelming. Since socil security offices were closed for the weekend,  I had to wait a day and a half for answers.

Monday morning, the first thing I did was call Social Security. After being on hold for 55 minutes, a woman who seem to be not so interested in being at her job clicked her computer keys for effect as she attempted to “research” my case.  When I asked her how come I am not eligible for Medicare until April even though I had a letter that tells me I was eligible, her response was ” I don’t know, I didn’t send you that letter”. I was already on the verge of tears, from frustration, fear and anxiety. To get this type of response was driving me over the edge. The lady was incredibly rude and unconcerned. I asked for a supervisor and the best response she gave me was “let me connect you to your local SS office.  So, after another 40 minutes on hold ( my poor brain was already running out of juice), I finally got connected to another rep. I was ready to give her the riot act but her calm manner and caring voice helped calmed me down a bit. she was genuinely attempting to help me.

She looked up my case. She was surprised that I even received a letter stating I was enrolled for Medicare when it usually takes two years and six months after disability to become enrolled.  The poor woman was really trying to help, but the office computers were down. She was hoping from desk to desk, I could tell because she was running out of breath! She finally pulled up my file and saw what I was talking about. She was surprised to see that I indeed received a letter which stated October as my eligibility date. Unfortunately, there was nothing she can do about this. It was a Medicare error and I would need to sign up under Covered California at least until April 2017. I am very angry about this. This was an error that could have cost my family financial difficulty. I have no way of finding out who is responsible for this mistake.

Let me take a slight detour here for a moment. Our Social Security System has deemed it necessary for an individual to wait two and a half years after they are determined disabled before they can avail of medical services! I mean WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!!! I was fortunate enough to have my husband’s insurance the past two years to help me get the medical services that I needed. Many people get in a tight spot during this waiting period. This sheet explains   and answers some of the questions on why there is a need to wait.  But what if a person does not have employee sponsored insurance or COBRA coverage?  How does one get care?  To think that people who depend on Medicare are people on disability and are not able to work full time. Some maybe receiving SSDI and some are not (like me).

We spent the month of December avoiding getting sick or getting hurt. Luckily for Scotty, his knee healed on it’s own.  No one had any major illnesses and as far as we know, we have insurance starting the first of January.

I don’t usually set New Years resolutions. I do have goals that I will be working on for the year.  The first of which is to complete my first post stroke 10k!

Do you have New Year’s resolutions? Have you had any issues with Medicare or MediCal? Do you think it’s worth the energy to pursue who made the Medicare mistake?

Hope this 2017 brings everyone health, peace and prosperity.

 

Much Love,

MommaBerna

To Have and to Hold

After working a six hour shift slinging McBurgers, my mom and dad came to pick me up from work asking me to  hook them up with a couple of Mcsandwiches. So, I walk back in the restaurant as this tall goofy boy was hanging up a  handwritten sign that said  “.99 hot Fudge Sundays” I stood there trying not to laugh, when the other person who was behind the counter asked me, “do you see anything wrong with this sign?” I was a new employee and to be quite honest fresh off the boat and quite shy and timid (imagine that) I did not want to make anyone angry at me. But being the big nerd that I am I answered, “Other than the bad hand writing? I don’t think we are selling the day of the week”. The tall, goofy guy looked at me, rolled his eyes and flashed a brace filled smile. I got my sandwiches, and as i was walking out Goofy guy asked if I wanted to go out sometime. I was a product of an all girl’s Catholic school and I have never, ever been on a date before. I must’ve stammered something coz he gave me that smile again while he held the door open for me.  A couple of chaperoned dates later (my dad would not let me go out with him unless we were chaperoned), our McRomance blossomed.  That was twenty five plus years ago.

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I can honestly say, we have come a long way from saying “would you like fries with that?”.  Both of us worked our way through school, Armando earned his degree in Political Science from Santa Clara University, where a few years later, I received my Masters Degree in Counseling Psychology. It was fitting that we had our wedding at the beautiful Mission Santa Clara. This past August, we celebrated our 20th wedding anniversary.  The twenty years were spent raising two boys (Vincent-18 and Scotty-15), Armando served as a Milpitas Council member for 12 years while helping the San Jose mayor balance the budget and I have been a case manager and counselor for the homeless, for schools and i’ve also worked as a substitute teacher.

Our marriage is not all about roses and rainbow, there had been storms along the way. But no one could have ever predicted the level F-5 tornado we would be facing in October of 2014.  Armando sat by my bedside night after night while I was in the hospital. During the day, he went home, took care of the boys, then went to work. In the evening he came back. He read to me, told me about the day he and the boys have had. He did this even as I was asleep for long periods of time. img_0974

Armando, the goofy dude who  misspelled “sundae”, has and continues to be the rock that holds me up when I am about to fall.  He has more than upheld his end of the vows we promised each other on August 10, 1996.  I know I sometimes forget to say “thank you” and I know saying “thank you” is not nearly enough.  My emotional survival and physical recovery would not have been possible without him by my side.

Often, the person who is sick or is recovering from an illness gets all of the attention from family and friends. Their caregivers do not get the love and attention that they so well deserve. Armando has given up so much so he can support me. I would not have made the progress I have now if he wasn’t by my side. He has picked up the slack in terms of getting the kids to school, keeping up the housework, taking me to doctors appointments and making delicious meals!  He gets tired, he gets frustrated and yet he continues to be strong not just for me, but for the boys too. 13754414_10153747424648457_2194257211736859590_nimg_373510501670_10207772456373748_2374375607510371088_n

Much Love,

Momma Berna