Tag: compassion

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WIDOW MAKER

As I said in my last post, everything went black after the second spray of nitro was given to me. The last words I spoke were to call my mother. If I had to do it all over again, those would not have been my last words to my husband. As he was calling my mother I went into full blown cardiac arrest in front of his eyes.

One of my main arteries was blocked one hundred percent. As far as the doctors could tell, a piece of plaque broke off in one of my arteries. As far as they could tell it must have wedged and then my body’s natural repair system kicked in and started to clot where the plaque broke off. The problem was that it clotted and blocked the entire artery so there was no blood flowing to my heart.

The doctor and his team worked tirelessly on me for a little over thirty five minutes to try to bring me back. They gave me a clot buster hoping that would open the artery, even if it was just a little so that my heart would start to pump again. Shock after shock my husband stood watching my lifeless body. The medical team tried to get him to leave, but as I said before, my husband is a large strong man and if he doesn’t want to do something no one can make him.

I am glad they couldn’t make him leave. I could feel him mentally calling to me and I to him. I believe if he had left the room that day, I probably would not be alive today. He was saying “don’t leave me”. I heard him and I hung on to that with what strength I had. Our connection has always been strong but I had no idea of its incredible power.

As the team was about to give up, the lead nurse suggested to double up the pads and shock me one more time. They did just that and stood back hoping that would do the trick. My husband said it was like nothing he had ever seen before. It brought me right up off of the stretcher, with limbs fully extended and eyes wide open. After that, as my husband kneeled on the floor beside my lifeless body, trying to find the words to say Good bye, while one technician in background muttered under his breath, “just call it already”. I guess he didn’t realize my husband was on the floor next to me. The Doctor asked for one last check for a pulse. To which the nurse replied, she had a pulse. It was faint and very weak but there was a pulse. This was much to everyone’s surprise and relief!

During this crazy time my husband had to call my mother a second time and told her if she didn’t get there soon, I would be gone. She was working for my brother at the time and she said she was waiting for someone to come and relieve her of her duties, if you can imagine. If I was told my daughter was dying and I needed to go to her, nothing would stop me from leaving immediately. That’s my family for ya.

My mother showed up made a rude comment to my husband and then came over to my side and told me that I needed to pull through this because there were people who were depending on me. I guess she must have meant herself. However, I was still in darkness. She was speaking to my lifeless body that was barely clinging to life and fighting to hang on.

Once a pulse was found, the doctor came to my husband and told him that if I had a fighting chance they needed to transport me to the Saint John Regional Hospital immediately. This hospital has the best cardiac care unit in New Brunswick and if anyone could help me it would be them.

The doctor said that he did not know if I would make the trip but they had to try. My husband wanted to go in the ambulance but there was simply not enough room. A nurse would have to go along with the ambulance crew. He was told he would have to follow along behind and if he had anything to say to me, he better say it now because there was a real good chance that I wouldn’t make it and this could be the last time he would see me alive.

The EMT said if my husband saw them on the highway pulled over to not approach the ambulance, that they would be working on me and they would come to him, it would not be safe for him to approach.

My husband said his good bye to me and we left for Saint John. He quickly gave instructions to his brother on how to get the dogs that were still in the van waiting to be groomed home safe. They would not be groomed on that day after all. I always kept a scheduling book with me that contained all of my customers info in it, thankfully. I am so thankful he was there in our time of need. I am forever grateful!

Once the dog situation was quickly handled my husband grabbed my mother’s car keys and headed to Saint John with her and my mother-in-law on board. He was but couple of minutes behind the ambulance. All the way watching closely in case the ambulance was pulled over on the side of the road.

I was later told that the car ride to Saint John was the most quiet, intense and fast ride any of them had ever had. He said he was so thankful that he never came across the ambulance stopped on the side of the highway. Upon arrival at Saint John Regional, he stopped the car in the middle of all traffic at the entrance, jumped out and sprinted inside to find me, leaving the two mothers to deal with the car and parking..

I woke from a comma about two weeks later…

A lot happened in those two weeks but that part of my story will have to wait for another day.

As Always, With Love,

Tanya Jean

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Why my desire to help?

I have had many jobs, I waited tables, worked in kitchens, did odd outdoor jobs, worked as a secretary, car saleswoman, drove courtesy vehicles, travelled selling meat door to door, call centre work, chambermaid, motel clerk, made crafts and art work to sell and I finally settled on being a pet groomer. This career lasted 25 years for me. It was my passion and I loved it!!

After I had my heart attack, I was no longer physically able to groom. As a result, I have felt lost and saddened that I can no longer continue in my career. I really enjoyed working with all the animals, but in particular, with those who were considered to be difficult individuals. Some of the owners were at their wits end and needed help. I felt that I could really connect with those animals. Being able to communicate with them and gain their trust gave me great joy. I truly miss grooming, but I believe that my time in that profession has run its course and now it is time for me to help other beings in other ways.

All of that being said, I have not been able to work outside of our home to earn an income for the last five years. Because I was self-employed, I did not meet the proper requirements to collect any benefits from the government since my heart attack. My husband has supported me this whole time. Thank you and bless you DW.

After I had my heart attack, there were so many people who have and continue to help me to get back on my feet again. Sooooo many people working day and night to get me thru this difficult time in my life. It is because of these individuals and their efforts that I have worked so very hard at getting better. To me, if they were going to put all they had into helping me , it was important that I work as hard as I could. I want to show them that their efforts were truly valued and appreciated.

It was just shortly after I started the cardiac rehab program at the Moncton City Hospital that I realized I wanted to give back, in some way. I wanted to continue to be of service to others who needed a little compassion and encouragement. As I worked through and completed this valuable program, I got to know the nurses who give so much to their work . I began to share the details of my story and, upon completion, I was asked to give talks about my unique experience for other patients, as they completed the program. The idea was that if the other patients heard some of the details of my story and saw that I survived after all of my complications, that they too could pull through and overcome their own situations.

The talks I gave were very well received and I loved interacting with those who would approach me afterwards. Some of them just wanted a hug and some of them wanted to share some of their experiences and all of them wished me well and said that hearing my story did give them hope. In return, in sharing with and getting to know them, I gained a sense of belonging and purpose.

I want to take this opportunity to thank all of the medical professionals who give so much everyday! I want to thank them for all they have done and given in order to care for me and the many others in need. You all are truly amazing people!

It was a true joy to feel that I was once again making a positive difference in peoples lives. Unfortunately, due to the pandemic, we could no longer continue with my talks. I truly miss having this experience, maybe someday we will be able to resume and I will have the opportunity to connect with others who complete the program.

The wonderful loving staff who work so hard to provide this amazing program have encouraged me to write a book about my story. They felt that this would be a good way to reach many more people than just those who have attended the Cardiac Rehab program. They encouraged me to continue to make an effort to connect with those who were in need of some positive reinforcement and encouragement. So they too can overcome and really live their lives.

So, here I am. I am writing my book and sharing my story with all of you, trying to make a positive contribution in this crazy world.

PS,

My book is progressing nicely. We are now in the editing stage and are getting closer to publishing with every week that passes. Our plan is to self-publish, most likely as an e-book initially, and then follow that with a paper copy, as sales progress. We are currently in the process of setting up our online store for my book, artwork and other products, which will be ready soon. In the meantime, if you have interest in any of my work, you can reach out to me through our contact form below and on our Contact page.

Thank you!

With Love Always!

Tanya Jean

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Silencing my Spirit

My belief is that we all, as humans, adapt to our surroundings. Some of us actually become different people depending on those surroundings and I am, without a doubt, one of those people.

After a great deal of research and therapy I fully understand why this happens to me. I am slowly learning how to be my true self around those I consider real people. This process is pain staking and harder than anything I have ever tried in my life. It is worse than trying to loose weight or quit smoking because these alters become a part of you. Its not just something you do. I would then, and will still, unconsciously call on any number of these alters, as needed. I will adjust to the situation or room I walk into before I reach the chair on the other side. This happens quickly and automatically now, if I feel uncomfortable in any way and they are different personalities depending on who is present or who I am interacting with. This is something that I learned to do and quickly perfected, instinctually as a very young child. It was a self preservation and protection mechanism my young mind and subconscious put into place long before I realized what it was or how it happened.

As a child I was repeatedly told that I was to be seen and not heard. It was law in our house that I was to be silent, especially around my father. His temper was explosive and we never knew what his mood would be like when he eventually walked through the door. The house had to be clean, food had to be prepared and I was to be silent. Militant order and cleanliness along with complete peace and quiet was what was necessary or there would be hell to pay!

I was a very active child and had a volume button that would go to ten in a heartbeat. I loved to sing and dance and act silly like most children do. I had to choose my times when I could be that child. You see in the house I grew up in, those slight window openings or safe opportunities, were very few and far between, for me at least. I desperately wanted to be seen. Be truly seen for who I was naturally. But, it seemed that being seen was something that only happened when I did not follow the rules. So, I learned how to silence my creative, silly side in order to be neither seen nor heard. It was my chance at not being punished or ridiculed.

Love was not given freely by my father. To him, it was something that had to be earned. My brother was the first born child and it seemed to me that this alone brought him the good fortune of being praised and paraded for all to see. “Look at our boy!” He was a good student who loved to play sports and of course was good at most of the sports he participated in. Now he still had to to work at keeping my fathers approval but at least he had a fighting chance.

I, on the other hand, had this misfortune of being the second born and a girl . The story my mother tells everyone, is that my father was too tired to come to the hospital to see me, when I was born. She has told this sad story of hers to whomever would listen, in front of me, my whole life and she sees nothing wrong with doing so. The ending, which is my favorite part, builds to how much this hurt her and how she cried through the night. Sometimes she will even squeeze out a tear or two for her listeners. How hard that must have been for her! For me, receiving any approval, for anything it seemed, was something that was going to be a challenge right form the start. Not to mention that the praise and parade train was all full up.

In my early years, being an empath, I always got the sense that my mother was glad I turned out to be a girl. This way she could dress me in all the frilly things she liked and of course there was another female in the house. That being said I was far from the typical little girl, of that time. I loved to get dirty and play outdoors. As you may be sensing by now, dolls were just not my thing. I was about animals and the outdoors all the way baby. I sensed my mother was a little disappointed that not only did she not get the girly girl that she wanted but that my father too was disappointed. Disappointed that I hadn’t turned out to be a boy. I got the sense that she wondered if it would have please my father more, if she would have had another boy the second time around.

My grades were not the best and I tried out for sports teams, like the boy, but they just weren’t my thing. I was a creative child. I loved to do crafts, draw, paint, sing and dance and just act silly. Oh and I really liked to get dirty. Jumping into mud puddles was a favorite pass time of mine. I loved to laugh and had a clear and hardy loud voice, which I used all the time. If someone would listen, I would talk for hours. I think it was the attention and interaction with someone who seemed interested in what I had to say that was the most appealing. This was not popular everywhere I went, however. I was told by both of my parents and my brother, that I was too loud and too silly, my whole life.

Needless to say I felt like I was the undesired child. I was good for doing household chores and keeping my mother company, especially as my father was always working. He was always wheeling and dealing as the old saying goes. As soon as my father came home, I was put to bed or sent off to do chores. I sensed that I made him uncomfortable at times, but mostly what I felt from him was anger. This in turn made my mother angry. Though I’m not sure I really understand why. So, I quickly realized that in order to keep the peace it was best for me to disappear when he was home. Which on the upside, for me at least, was a rare occasion.

As I grew I tried to find a way to communicate with him. I tried several of my different personalities just to see if we could somehow connect on any level. After all, what little girl doesn’t want to be “daddy’s little girl”, right? None of my alters worked. I eventually picked the one that seemed to annoy and anger him the least, if I had to be in his presence. After awhile I just did my best to avoid my father which was not hard because he was rarely around and really seemed to have no desire to be in my presence. When he was home it would always turn into something like a “WWE” wrestling and screaming match spectacle. Except it was not some rehearsed show meant to entertain. My mother would start at him just as soon as he walked through the door. Words and accusations would soon turn into yelling and screaming which would turn into yet another television thrown into or through the wall. I could never figure out why he always picked the television. I loved the television! Oh wait, did I just figure it out??

It would all end with someone or something getting hurt or broken. As the years passed and the fighting continued I got sick of it all and eventually started to take mom’s side. Afterall, she was at least present in my life. Really though, I was more frustrated than anything. I was tired of having to live surrounded by this, all the time. It just never stopped. I tried to be the daughter everyone wanted me to be. I tried to act the way they wanted me to act. I tried to talk the way they wanted me to talk. But it never changed. If I did this, then they would want that. They were just never happy. In the process of all of this, I noticed that the more I tried to please them the more unhappy I became. It started to become evident that the only thing I was accomplishing was to make myself as unhappy as them. In the end, all I did was hurt myself and near as I could tell, they already had that part covered. I had lost myself. I turned into some sort of stranger. Someone that I did not recognize when I looked at my reflection in the mirror.

I want to make it clear that I do not consider myself a victim. I am just a girl that had the misfortune of being born into a family who were the polar opposite of what she was born to be. I was born with an artists heart and little starting knowledge from that school of life. All that said, I am still here. I am still here and will say that I sure am educated on that school now.

I never did get to be “daddy’s little girl”, someone else got that role. I hope she enjoyed it. I now know that, that wasn’t suppose to be my path. I was meant for other things.

The practice of changing who or what I was in an attempt to suit the wants and needs of others is something that I continued on with for many years. I feel it is the result of the trauma imprinted on and within me during the years I spent in this environment and it did not serve me well. It made me very very sick! If you get the sense that someone close to you is doing just that, trying to adjust themselves to suit the wants and needs of others, please do not judge them. They probably don’t even realize what they are doing. They are obviously struggling and they need compassion not criticism. Please just try to encourage them to seek help.

As I sit here writing this, I’m thankful that I did not stay dead on that November day when I had my heart attack. My purpose has never been so clear. I needed to learn who I was and who I truly am at my core. I thought I wanted to live in someone else’s shadow, that is not the case at all. I needed to become my own person and I needed to learn who that is in order to live a life of purpose and meaning. I’ve discovered that is to be of service to those who need help in finding their true and authentic self. For me, the message here is that no one should be silenced. Your path is meant to be lived loud and free. Free of all judgement and that includes self judgement. There was nothing wrong with me, there was something wrong with the environment I grew up in. There was something wrong with the circumstances I lived within. There was nothing wrong with the little girl who could communicate with animals, sing, dance, create and had a hardy loud laugh. She was perfect in every way and I’m so excited to get to know her all over again!

I have the chance to live again and believe me when I say, I will not silence my spirit ever again!

With love as always,

Tanya Jean