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Some who’ve been through this call it their “Annie”-versary, Annie being the nickname they’ve given their aneurysm. I never gave mine a nickname, and if I had, it would have been “The Little Bastard.”

But, at this moment one year ago, there were fingers in my brain. Extremely talented fingers, performing a most delicate task. The chief of neurosurgery at Emory, Dr. Daniel Barrow, was using a tiny titanium clip to block off the blood flow to the unruptured aneurysm on my right main cerebral artery.

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At the beginning of this year, our home contained six souls. Now we’re down to four. In January, we lost Bosco, and last night, we had to put Coco to sleep.

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Six months ago last night, I was facing the first major surgery of my life, and wondering how my body would react to it. I knew that the surgery, a right craniotomy to repair an aneurysm, could have a wide range of after-effects: major headaches, memory issues, severe fatigue, blurred or double vision in my right eye, weakness on my left side, personality changes (disinhibition and inappropriate behavior, depression), to name a few.

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Today we had to have our beloved Bosco put to sleep. Susan picked him out of the just born litter in 1992. I’ve know him since 1995, and lived with him since 1999. He had a long (18 years, 9 months) full, and happy life. But we already miss him terribly.

He was full of personality, and if there ever was a kitty that was a joker, it was him. He often tried to “pick a fight” with me, as I was the only one who would play with him in that way (and often had the skin punctures to prove it). He’d plop down next to whatever chair I was in, then shake his head and snort at me, as if to say “I can take ya.”

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If Thanksgivings are judged based on how much we have to be thankful for, this is surely the Best Thanksgiving Ever!

Strange as it might sound, I am thankful I had a small stroke back in July. That stroke caused the doctors to do tens of thousands of dollars worth of MRI’s and CT scans of my brain, from which they discovered I had an unruptured aneurysm. Without that stroke, I would have discovered that I had an aneurysm only when it burst. And 30% of those who suffer a ruptured aneurysm die before they even get to a medical professional. Another 30% survive, but with severe neurological deficits (paralysis, memory loss, etc.). My original neurologist suggested I would likely be in the first group.

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