Sweet, Sweet Music

Tonight was the CD  release party for my friends, Jemini Venture. Their CD is called Give Me Back My Heart, and they included two songs that I wrote. It was such a thrill to have them include the songs on the CD and then to see them perform them in their great mix of original songs (and one Smokin' version of Ooh, Baby, Baby).

Music has always been important to me, but it wasn't until I moved back home to care for my mom that I began writing songs of my own. Some of my favorite times are jamming with friends, and I have had met many wonderful, talented friends in these last few years. As I was watching Jemini Venture perform tonight, I felt so fortunate to have them as friends and to soak in the music and fellowship. 

I see my doctors tomorrow to see if there is any medication I can take to control my seizures. Today may have been the last time I drive a car for quite a while. But I still have music - and dear friends.

Click here for a link to the song:
Sweet, Sweet Music

Sweet, Sweet Music

You've been my faithful companion through all these years,
When I felt broken, you helped keep me whole.
You walked with me through the valley, danced with me in the sunshine.
Sweet, sweet music - heart of my soul.

Why Not Me?

Recently, I was diagnosed with a Cavernous Malformation (CM) in my brain.  A CM is an abnormal cluster of thin blood vessels that can bleed and cause seizures. My seizures have been relatively minor - I have not lost consciousness during one - but there is a risk they could become more serious. Yesterday, I was advised to stop driving. Ironically, my mother has Parkinson's, and I am her caregiver. So now we both are looking for rides - to doctors, grocery stores, hairdressers, lunch with friends - trying to keep as much normalcy as possible in the midst of life-altering circumstances. I have to get use to waiting for someone else, just as my mother has done in the years since she had to stop driving.  I am now trying to decide if I should close up my art studio and classes, trying to push for answers that will take their time evolving.

Can the seizures be controlled? Don't know. Will I have to have surgery? Not sure. Will I be able to drive again? Maybe, maybe not. Will I become permanently disabled? Wait and see. Will my life get back to normal? This is normal - for me at this time in my life.

When people ask if I am scared, I have to admit that I am a little. But I have been trying to prepare myself for this stage of my life for many years. I watched as family members, friends and colleagues battled terminal illnesses with strength, dignity, and humor. I watched as people stricken with grief faced the uncertain future one day at a time; or, on the tough days, minute by minute. I have been humbled by the beautiful smiles and courage of sick young children coping with pain and suffering. 

Years ago, when going through a traumatic divorce, I agonized over the questions, "Why? Why me?" I have come to realize that pain, disappointment and loss are a normal part of life; I can bear whatever life brings me with faith, support, and a focus on "one day/hour/minute at a time." When I ask the question, "Why not me?" the answer seems so simple.