Returning from Boise was bittersweet. I hated to leave but I knew that my sister and I had a great trip planned to see the Angels play in San Francisco and I was completely stoked for that trip!
I flew back into LAX and Dad picked me up. I was starving when I got off the plane so we stopped to grab a bite before getting on the freeway. We got out of the car and started to walk up the ramp to the restaurant when all of a sudden I realized that my left leg wasn’t cooperating with me and seemed to have a mind of its own. I grabbed the handrail next to me and made the observation, “That’s weird”. The athlete in me kicked in and I quickly convinced myself to ‘walk it off’. Funny how the athletic trainer voice never seemed to kick in. We went inside and ate and then decided we needed to visit the Baskin Robbins across the parking lot for some dessert. The dead leg thing happened again as we were leaving BR and when we got in the car Dad asked if I thought we needed to go see the doctor. My oncologist was only 5 or 6 exits up the 405. “Nah”, I said. It’s no big deal. Just a fluke. Plus, I had to be on another plane in the morning and couldn’t risk this was something they would admit me for.
The following morning (after missing our scheduled flight because I couldn’t seem to remember what time the flight was) my sister and I flew up to San Francisco.
We checked in at our hotel and decided to make our way down to the stadium. The goofy leg thing happened once or twice more but really wasn’t much of an issue.
What a fantastic ballpark (check out the pics). We even got free tickets to the game and the seats were amazing. We stayed for most of the game and then set off for the hotel again.
Wednesday morning we walked down to Mel’s diner for breakfast. San Francisco Sourdough all the way. With happy tummys we went to the hotel to check out. When we got to the room I had to lay down. All of a sudden I had a miserable headache. This should have been my red flag, but of course, it wasn’t and like a good little soldier I pressed on. I took some Aleve, waited for it to kick in, checked out of the hotel and headed over to Fisherman’s Wharf. Not wanting to miss yet another flight we opted for a to-go lunch and set out for the airport.
I’m not sure if you’ve been keeping track but by now I had racked up 6 take-offs and 6 landings in a matter of 5 days. I can’t be positive that this was a contributing factor in the events of the days to come, but I’m guessing it shouldn’t be excluded as a possibility.
The day after we returned from the trip I wanted to visit Grandma and share the pictures with her. I had some errands to run first; the post office, Target, etc. I walked into the post office and the dead leg thing happened again. “Are you okay?” The question came from one of the postal employees.
“Sure. It’s just the chemo.” This has become a standard response even though I haven’t had any chemo in months. On to Target.
I got out of my car and started to walk into the store. Dead leg (my flip flop falls off every time I take a step), I’m starting to get a feeling like the room is spinning around me and I need to sit. I sat in the Starbucks in the store and FINALLY decided to call the doctor. I waited for my pictures and my phone rang. It was one of the nurses she was obviously concerned. “Are you falling?” “You shouldn’t be driving.” “Get someplace safe and I’ll have the doctor call you.”
I got to Grandma’s and stumbled through the security gate. I didn’t have a key and barely remembered the code. I couldn’t control my left hand now. I went to the front and all but fell into the apartment. My phone rang. “You need to get to an ER immediately and tell them you need a brain MRI.” I didn’t argue, I just went.