This one is gonna sting.
I’m not really sure where to start, so I guess I should start with correcting my understanding of information through someone else’s omissions or my own. I know things are much clearer after my visit with the Cardiologist and also entirely more vague.
Confused? You won’t be after this episode of—screw it, none of you have probably even heard of Soap.
So, in the previous blog I said that the “umbrellas” that were to be placed in my heart would do things like a) pretty much solve everything and b) you know, happen and stuff. That was not entirely accurate in a lot ways such as, “factually.”
Okay, I’m over-embellishing back the other direction now.
They are now calling my stroke something called a “cryptogenic stroke.” Essentially, this means after they run a crapload of tests (see previous blog entries on the subject of tests by the crapload) they, well, hope to have obtained more information than they have.
There’s no magic bullet here.
While the umbrella procedure is still on the table, in no uncertain terms will it stop me from having strokes in the future or preventing the complex migraines that take away my eye sight.
The best-case scenario is: eh, it might help.
Conversely, the new option on the table is to go on blood thinners permanently, stuff like Plavix. These can also reduce the risk of a stroke by going all Drano on my blood tubes.
Eh, it might help.
Which is essentially where I’m at after talking to the Cardiologist for an hour. My two options are equally preventative in that it’s a gigantic crapshoot and we have no idea if and what kind of difference they will make.
Which made me angry.
Really really angry.
I quite imagine anger almost always comes from a place where we lose control. That feeling of exasperated helplessness can only manifest itself in so many ways, and I imagine most of them involve wanting to punch a bear in the face. There’s nothing I can do, which will begin to shift to my friends and family if/when further episodes occur. That’s on top of the fact that I’ve had the same damn migraine for going on 25 days now.
Perhaps some of this comes from me trying to talk to people about particular fears and issues and being cut off constantly by a repeated chorus of, “you’re strong, man. You’ll come out okay,” and having a feeling the entire time that their world view is myopic and ignorant. Help me deal with the problems at hand. Don’t ignore them and wistfully pretend the world is gummi bears and Bagel Bites.
Sorry, had to get that last part off my chest.
So we’ve rewinded a little; back to a scarier place where the reality has a bitter flavor. It’s easy to be cynical in this place. It’s easy cue up the trumpets for the pity party and lick the frosting from your pity cake.
But then I remember.
I remember I have the most wonderful family who have done everything in their power to make this a smooth transition and to bring support and love when I have most needed it.
I remember I have a stable of invaluable friends who have come to my aid for anything at the drop of a hat, including this morning where I almost missed my appointment and Nate came to my aid and rushed me into Dallas on zero notice.
I remember I have a job that a huge chunk of the world would stab puppies to get at the best damn videogame company on the planet. A company that understands they will be seeing less of me at a time when they need to see more.
I remember that I can walk and I can see, though not how I used to, but I still have the abilities all the same. There are many who would consider me lucky.
And then I’m not angry anymore.
And then I watched Captain America where Chris Evans punched Nazis in the face.
And then I was smiling.