One Step in Front of the Other

A few weeks ago, I talked to a delightful young woman who lives in North Dakota. She is a mother, a writer, and a long-distance runner. Like so many of us, she is also a brain aneurysm survivor. 

Her name is Kathleen Wriggley and she is running the Fargo Marathon tomorrow. Bless her heart. Like me, she is also blogging about her journey which you can follow here. 

When Kathleen found out in early summer that she would need a couple aneurysms clipped, she says her life took a screeching U- turn. She needed to prepare her two school aged children for her upcoming surgery and make sure her preschooler would be okay. She had to get her work organized and ready for her absence. “I cried every day that summer,” she said. “I could have had the surgery then, but I wanted my children to be in school so they would still have a routine. I thought it would be better for them.”

Her husband was consumed with worry and was in a turmoil of his own. Would Kathleen be okay? Or would she come out of surgery different?

Last September, when her kids were back in school, she and her husband traveled to downtown St. Paul where the great doctors at the National Brain Aneurysm Center did their surgery. She, like me, is grateful for Drs. Madison and Nussbaum, as well as every single nurse and technician who cared for her.

She is so grateful, in fact, that she is using each step of the Fargo Marathon to raise awareness and funds for the National Brain Aneurysm Center. Why? “Running this marathon is symbolic for me,” she says. “It tells me–and everyone else–that my life is back and I’m okay.”

I could not run a marathon, even if I was younger and perfectly healthy. My admiration for Kathleen is enormous. In fact, I’m in awe. I am praying for her and willing her strength and success each and every step of her journey. She is truly amazing.

More my ability is the Stroke Walk in Plymouth. May is Stroke Awareness Month and a bunch of us will be strolling through French Park enjoying ourselves, our friends, our families and, of course, our renewed lives. The Minnesota Stroke Association is sponsoring that event. Those of us who suffered vasospasm strokes when our brain aneurysms ruptured may have a slightly different twist on strokes. But a stroke is still a stroke and recovery is not easy.  I’m sure it will be fun to stroll through a beautiful park on a beautiful day and enjoy the new adventures that each day brings.

Whether it’s a marathon or a walk in the park, we all must put one step in front of the other. Only then will our journey be satisfying.

The Test

Yesterday, as I stared at the design wall in my sewing room, I experienced “a blast from the past.”

About a week before I was discharged from the ICU at the National Brain Aneurysm Center, a quiet doctor with warm and twinkling eyes entered my room. He was there, he said, to assess my brain function and determine what (if any) damage had been done from my ruptured aneurysm and the vasospasm/stroke.  Surely he would have laughed if he had watched me stare at the quilt I am piecing. Then he would have flunked me in the spacial/pattern recognition portion of his tests.

My quilt pattern is called “Irish Ribbon.” When I chose the pattern, it seemed like a very doable project. Wrong. The individual blocks pieced together just fine once I got the hang of it. The snag, however, has come in arranging the blocks into a quilt to get the flowing ribbon effect. The last step before sewing the blocks together is to attach a two-inch border so that the ribbons end in a gentle flourish.

The goal is great, but the execution is brutal. By noon, I realized with a sinking heart that somewhere in stitching together 300-plus rectangles and triangles, I’d made a mistake.  Was it a huge mistake? A little one?  Where in the heck was it?

I flashed back to one specific section of the doctor’s brain test—the section that reminded me of quilting blocks.  The test squares were patterned with squares and triangles. Each “question” was comprised of several squares that were the same and one that was a little off. The goal was to pick out the one that was different. After feeling tortured through a couple of the brain test sections, that one was easy. 

Obviously, the doctor’s test didn’t include any Irish Ribbons.

Eventually, I found my quilting mistake. I had stitched a tiny triangle right-facing instead of left-facing. Unfortunately, that little sucker was in the middle of a block. To fix it, I would need to rip out all of the block’s seams and pieces. If you sew, you know seam-ripping is dreadfully tedious and discouraging.

Instead of grabbing my well-used seam-ripper and getting to work, I spent a considerable amount of time convincing  myself that the quilt would be just fine with one tiny mistake. “Nobody will notice.” “A mistake underlines its hand-made status.” “No quilt is perfect.” “It’ll be FUN to challenge people to find the error.” “The time spent ripping apart the block isn’t worth the result.” Ya-da-ya-da-ya-da.

Brain aneurysm bleeds and surgery apparently didn’t hamper my ability to think up creative excuses and rationalizations. Why wasn’t that included in the brain function test?  

Of course, by the end of the day, I had ripped apart the block and fixed the mistake. I rationalized it this way: Many of life’s mistakes cannot be fixed–only recognized, forgiven and overcome. A sewing mistake is completely in my control to correct. I don’t have to WANT to– I just have to do it.

It’s a good thing that attitude also wasn’t part of the brain function test. Had I been tested yesterday, those results would have required some rehab.