Anniversary Grief

  It was my birthday, the day my mother died. 

I was holding Fernande, kissing and thanking her for having spent the day celebrating my birthday with me, when Peggy, the night nurse, arrived. At the precise moment Peggy approached her bed to greet her, Fernande firmly shut her eyes, lowered life’s curtain and smiled. There was no last gasp, just an imperceptible shift from life to death. It was a majestic, decisive and peaceful end to a remarkable life.

A retired language professor, Fernande was left speechless, after a massive stroke. The doctors gave her three weeks to live. Refusing the idea of a nursing home, I brought her back to her beloved house. She defied predictions and victoriously lived for five and a half-years. Although I became her voice and main caretaker, she remained the teacher for all who were willing to learn.

In her final act, she helped me overcome my fear of death by allowing me to witness the beauty of her departure. Consequently, I handled the loss better than expected.

Before I could embark on future plans, I wanted a thorough assessment of my health. Bio-Data, an alternative health and nutrition group, using DNA, provided that analysis. Six months after Fernande died, I went on their detox program. Two months on the diet, I felt the best I had in years.

Gradually, I returned to my work. I began preparing for Fernande’s Memorial Mass and Reception a month later. I found comfort in the tradition of marking the year anniversary of a loved one’s death. During the funeral, I was on a surreal plane.  With time to mourn and somewhat adjust to life without my mother, I felt ready to truly honor and celebrate her life and memory.

I began making a few invitation calls, when a strange headache forced me to abandon my long list of names. The pain, extending from the base of my neck to my left temple, persisted for two weeks. Fearing a stroke, I went to the doctor. He concluded I was having a muscle spasm, resulting from accumulated stress. He handed me a prescription for a muscle relaxant.

Knowing my distrust of medication, the family appeared with Haitian pumpkin soup and pressured me into taking a pill. I followed directions and took two more through the night. Shortness of breath and heart palpitations made it difficult for me to get out of bed the next morning. I could hardly walk.

Soon I started having chills and a high fever. The doctor informed me I had a virus and there was nothing he could do. I sent another saliva sample to Bio-Data.

Yet, with help, I made it through the Memorial.  It could not have been more beautiful. In spite of the first snowstorm, the church was jam-pack celebration. The next morning, I awoke with a stiffened neck. Whenever I tried to move, the pain was excruciating. To get out of bed; I needed someone to hold my head. In addition, I started developing unusual sensations in my head, like roaches moving around.

Bio-Data’s test results indicated I had an acute sensitivity to electro-magnetic-radiation (EMR) in the environment. They sent magnetic shields to put around my property.  The shields create invisible walls of controlled magnetic/titanium oxide that blocks harmful energy.

To guide the installation, Bio-Data needed information faxed. Too sick to cooperate, I stored the shields in the basement.

During the four months I remained ill, my life stopped. The doctors never discovered what was wrong.

With no clear diagnosis, my doctor was ready to focus on the original stress problem. The physical therapy he recommended didn’t help. Daily massages gave temporary relief. After three sessions with an acupuncturist, I was able to move my neck. I could drive again. Could recovery be near?

When new symptoms appeared, I called the best diagnostician I knew. She insisted I had a virus that could last two years.  When I mentioned my face was swollen and I had trouble opening one eye, she gasped.  She said I was having an allergic reaction to a new airborne allergen as yet unidentified by the medical profession. She told me the doctors wouldn’t discover my problem.

I got the magnets out of storage. If the shields didn’t work, I knew there was something seriously wrong with my health.

I faxed Bio-Data drawings of my property. From California, using biofeedback, they were able to test the radioactive frequency around my house in New York. My head sensations miraculously disappeared, as predicted. I waited for the head sensations to return. They never did.

I headed for the Caribbean. Along the way, I had lunch with a renowned physician friend.   While recounting my body/life crash, he took my hand and declared my experience was Anniversary Grief.  He once suffered from it. I was amazed to hear a title attached to my illness. Doctors confuse physical Anniversary Grief with other diseases; therefore, it’s often unreported. The emotional manifestation, like depression, is more discernable. I informed him my situation was sensitivity to EMR.  Unconvinced, he repeated: “Anniversary Grief”.

As I approach another anniversary, I still feel I had an extreme sensitivity to EMR. Anniversary Grief captures the journey and gives it a name. Unlike other explanations, it’s got a poetic ring to it.

 

  THE LESSON

 

Sometimes an illness has no name.  Everything has a cause and an effect. There is a physical and/or mental manifestation of the ill effects of stress. It is toxic to the body and will come out – somehow.

 

Next time you have an illness that can’t be identified, don’t run to the doctor. First check out your life and your calender. Is it the anniversary of an emotional upheaval you experienced in the past year or more?

 

Identify the emotional upheaval.  Are you approaching the first, second, fifth (and so on) anniversary of that event? Is it the anniversary of the year your friend betrayed you, stole your creative work?  Is it the third year anniversary of your divorce, break-up or your miscarriage? Is it the tenth year anniversary of the fire, the earthquake, the car accident, the move? If your answer is yes to any of the questions, you maybe experiencing a physical manifestation of your grief or loss.

 

What can you do about it? Eliminate known medical possibilities. Then, allow yourself an emotional release of what you identified as “an anniversary”. If that is a difficult task, simply try to understand and accept that you are experiencing a physical form of depression and that you will get better in due course.  Don’t let fear overtake you. Do not immediately agree to medical intervention, such as medication or surgery, etc.  Find ways to relax. Try acupuncture, yoga, meditation, sleep – whatever works for you. Know that the symptoms will eventually go away. Try to release long-held emotions. Have faith that the pain you are experiencing will have an end. Plan on celebrating you, once you start feeling good. Visualize your glorious tomorrow.

 

Should you discover you are not experiencing Anniversay Grief, then resort to the traditional medical protocal: tests, doctor visits, medication, etc.

Selling My Home

I’ve been trying to sell my home for the last few years.  There was always a problem.  First, it was my emotional attachment. Then, the market fell.  I was told to hold-off until after Obama got elected. I did that.  But, things got worse once he got in.  In addition, there was an overflow of “houses for sale” in my little Long Island town.  Buyers could choose from 279 houses. Although my house is beautiful with an unusual layout, It’s up against houses that were updated and remodeled.  Why would a Long Island buyer (as opposed to a California buyer) choose a house that needed updating – new kitchen and bath –  when they could get a remodeled one for the same price?  The only way to get someone to buy my house is to lower the price.  I’ve lowered it twice but I’m not ready to just give it away.  It’s the family home.  I grew up in that house.  Vivian Arzoumanidis, my real estate agent, has held “open houses” and hardly anyone has shown up.  There’s a huge amount of hits (on MLS) for the house.  They look, they call, but they don’t show up.  Vivian is perplexed by this.  I could understand if buyers came and didn’t like what they saw.  But, THEY HAVEN’T STEPPED INTO THE HOUSE.  PANIC is setting in.  Vivian’s been great.  She wants to do what’s right for me.  Unlike other real estate agents, she doesn’t want me to lower the price any further.  She feels I should relax and trust the house will be sold.  The person who is meant for this house will show up, she repeats. It’s hard to trust when you are living on credit cards.  Something has to give.  She suggests renting as an option.  I just don’t want to become a landlord.

 ONE MONTH LATER

Things are not picking up.  I’ve got to decide whether or not to abandon the idea of selling and make a decision to stay in New York.  After all, I’m in Manhattan three times a week with my Acting Classes and six days a week when there are performances.  I love the city.  Why not rent the house and get an apartment there?  Sounds like a good idea.  But, I still feel I need to get back to Los Angeles before I can do anything.  Why?

 THE BACK STORY

Over ten years ago, I came to New York to a “cousin’s” wedding.  I came a month early to hang out with Fernande.  It was wonderful.  A couple of days before heading back West, Fernande had a stroke caused my medical incompetence.  She was bleeding from Coumadin, a drug for an irregular hear beat.  It is a horrible/dangerous, but sometimes necessary drug.

I took her to the hospital.  They took her off Coumadin.  Instead of weaning her off the medication, the doctor, Dr. Jules Weiss, kept her off it for ten days.  Her cardiologist, Dr. Breen,  called and told me she’s been off the Coumadin for too long and had  to immediately get back on it, before she had a stroke.  Dr. Weiss, the gastroenterologist,  pulled rank.  He was the admitting physician.   Dr. Breen backed off.  The rest is earth-shattering history.  I never left my mother’s side and never returned to L.A. or to the life I led.  I simply rose to the occasion and became her eyes, ears – essentially her everything.  The doctors gave her 3 weeks to live.  I fought to take her home. Once there, I created a wonderful personal clinic in her beloved home with nurses, aides, devoted family and friends. Fernande lived a healthy five and one-half more years.

During those years of sleepless nights, I was never sick.  I stayed strong.  A year after her funeral, I decided to celebrate the anniversary of her death with a Memorial Mass and a reception.  While preparing for this event, I got deathly ill.  It was a delayed reaction to the stress I must have endured during those five and one half years.  After loads of tests, doctors couldn’t figure-out my problem.  Finally, a physician friend gave it a name: ANNIVERSARY GRIEF, the physical manifestation of my loss.

I had always planned to sell the family home once Fernande said “Adieu”.  I never thought I’d get sick.  That caused a delay in putting the house on the market.  Emotionally, I wasn’t ready to sell.  I continued living my life in New York.  I seemed to embrace my mother’s world.  Finally, the day came when I was ready to move on.  But, the housing market collapsed and I was advised to wait.  I did.  After a couple of years of a plunging housing market, I decided to cut my losses and move on.  Again I was advised to wait.   Now it was for Obama.  “Wait until he get’s elected.  The market will pick up.”   It didn’t.

Finally, two years ago, I decided to put the house on the market no matter what.  My friend Nick came from Ireland to paint the house and get it ready for buyers.  The first real estate agent, a family friend, promised to work hard and show the house while I went out of town.  On my return, I discovered he never picked up the keys to show the house.  It was like a knife in the back.  I decided to try to sell the house myself.  Eventually, I found Vivian.

Now I am really ready to move on.  I know I can’t pick up from where I left off in L.A. –  before the wedding and before Fernande’s stroke.  But,  I never decided to LEAVE L.A.  I just NEVER WENT BACK.  Now, it’s time to go back and see if it’s where I want to live.  If it isn’t,  I’ll move back to New York,  Paris or somewhere else.  But, that decision will be made with a clear head.  First, I’ve got to sell the house that’s rich with loving memories.