The little train robbery

So as my doctors have prohibited me from driving due to my poor eyesight, I have become more confident and adept at getting around on Seattle’s public transportation. As I mentioned in my last post, my Orca card and light rail are a revelation, I ride the train several times a day and love its speed, efficiency and proximity to home. My ability to use public transport gives me independence that is really important to me. And the bus? Well, the bus is a great service and resource but I almost always would rather walk than wait. (That said, I could hug and kiss the geniuses who created “One Bus Away” for the iPhone to know in real time when the next bus is coming, I use it multiple times a day and it is the most useful and brilliant application ever.)

Yet as I am sure many thousands of longtime bus riders in South Seattle have noted long before me, there have been a number of experiences where I have felt less than safe walking by myself in the dark, in the rain, on deserted, poorly lit streets, often with my laptop in my backpack. (The worst so far was the walk from Rainier Health and Fitness to Othello street – dark, deserted, busted sidewalks, pools of water.) I feel like I am a fairly street smart person having lived in the South End for more than a decade and having worked as a journalist in many tough environments. I am often chastised for going all kinds of places by myself, without fear, but the past month has reminded me how poor a lot of our infrastructure and public safety (street lighting, sidewalks that are covered in water forcing people to walk on Rainier) continues to be.

Despite this, I feel like I have been getting around pretty well considering my poor vision makes me jumpy and am getting more confident about new bus routes and coming home by myself a little later. This confidence was shattered though last night. While coming home from an event for work at the UW, I was on the last leg of my bus and train journey and had gotten off at my usual Link stop in Columbia City around 10:30 p.m. and was walking on Alaska toward Rainier just a few blocks from the train to meet friends on my way home (a stretch I have always felt no qualms about) when a young man ran up behind me, grabbed me from behind, pushed me to the side and yanked my purse off from across my chest and body and then ran away across into a side street. Thankfully, because my purse was open on the top my wallet fell out in the street while he was running so I retrieved it.

I ran to Rainier and within minutes my friends were there to get me (thank you all) as I was super scared and shocked. While he did not get my wallet, he got my address, bank account number and house keys.

When I got home I called the police who came relatively quickly (I was surprised they came at all) and took a report. The officer asked if I was injured and whether my eye problem was a result of the robbery, and when we told them it was from brain surgery, then he said, “Well after brain surgery, getting robbed is nothing.” Which was really funny. Although I have to say that brain surgery did not shake my confidence or my overall trust in the safety of my environment like this experience did. The police officer said he would put in a request for monitoring of my house (we are changing the locks today).

He then told us that I was the latest in a string of robberies of people getting off the train, the others having been at the Othello station. He said the steady stream of riders on a schedule creates a great opportunity for people to rob train riders. This is a public safety issue that I hope will get more attention. So just a reminder to folks to be careful, conscious of your surroundings and take sensible precautions, especially at night. Despite my friends’ admonitions, I will still be taking the train and the bus but will be even more careful in the future and will probably have to “phone a friend” if I need a ride at night. Thanks again to everyone for all your support.

P.S. – For those following along on the medical bill count, this week brought an additional $37,000 bill (surgeons) and when I called to make financial arrangements on my portion was told not to bother just yet because there was another $30,000 in surgeon bills pending. This brings our running tally so far (for those keeping score at home to: $217,000! How’s that Health Care Reform bill coming along again? While I am extremely lucky to have health insurance, please call your Senators today to tell them to vote for the bill WITH A ROBUST PUBLIC OPTION INCLUDED – so that no one has to go bankrupt (or worse) because they get sick.

Just a little patience

At my birthday dinner, you can kind of see the diplopia (crossed eye) in my right eye.

So I had intended to write this update last week, but my efforts conflicted with my equally strong desire to avoid using the computer as much as possible when I am not at work. But I did want to let folks know the outcome of last Wednesday’s MRI and the subsequent appointment with the Harborview neurosurgeons. As many of you know, I have had some challenges in the past with claustrophobia and MRIs but am pleased to report that with only 3 MG of assistance from my dear friend Ativan I was able to get through the MRI without panic or distress. This was due to several factors that I wish I had known before my first disastrous MRI and that you might want to consider if you are choosing an MRI provider for your head.

1. The head cage for the MRI at Harborview (unlike Inland Imaging at Pacific Medical Clinic where I went before) is open around the neck instead of closed, so if the radiology tech were to be suddenly electrocuted or sucked into a sinkhole during the MRI

This is what Harborview's head cage looked like - so open and free!

(a common occurence, I am sure), you could actually free yourself from the machine and escape. The ones at Pac-Med literally lock down around your head so you are completely vulnerable and trapped inside (I could not find a picture of this, but it reminded me of medieval stocks).

2. This could just be my imagination, but not only was the head cage larger at Harborview, but the MRI machine seemed larger as well, adding to the feeling of security.

3. The technician (just like you see in the movies) at the Harborview MRI was really wonderful and was able to talk to me throughout the procedure, giving me reassuring updates like “this segment will take three minutes” and so on. This made me feel like I was not alone and there was an end in sight. (The tech at Pac-Med said he could not talk to me because he could not hear me and vice versa, very scary.)

So with MRI completed, I went for my appointment with the neurosurgeon. After a wait, the neurosurgeon arrived to ask me how I was doing and to let me know the MRI was clear. This was not a surprise to me as it had only been eight weeks since my surgery and the kind of calcified tumor I had most likely took around a decade to grow. That said, a clear MRI is a clear MRI and I am grateful for that and the surgeons’ skilled and thorough excavation of my tumor. I then went through my sizable list of questions/concerns for him, which I am so glad I prepared in advance, for example (and I am paraphrasing): When would my jaw begin to open more than a quarter inch? (“Be patient, use your fingers to manually pull your jaw apart to stretch it out” REALLY??) How often am I supposed to patch my good eye? (“Every two hours”) When will I stop having pain everyday? (“Be patient, you had major surgery”) When will I be able to see again? (“Be patient, if it’s not better in six months, we will be concerned”) When can I drive? (“We will see in two months, at your next followup, be patient”) When can I go back to work/working out/skydiving? (“You can do as much as you want as long as you don’t experience adverse reactions”)

This last one had me puzzled. How would I know I was experiencing “adverse reactions” until I had the adverse reaction? Wasn’t this like being a human guinea pig? Did I really want to try to exercise myself into a seizure to see where my outer limits are? But despite pressing this question, I got no further advice. No advice about what adverse signs to watch for when exercising/skydiving, no advice on what is “normal” for a person in my situation to do or push themselves to do. This is a tough call to make because each person reacts differently due to their overall health and fitness level. He did tell me I should ease back into work and not try to work full time at first, which was helpful advice and what I had already been advised to do by my awesome boss Pramila. He also told me to stop taking narcotics completely and instead take a the max amount of ibuprofen all day every day but I have been slightly defying this order and taking a half of a Vicodin each night to combat nightly head pain and pressure that ibuprofen cannot overcome.

So the overarching message was to have patience, but as someone who is not known for patience, it’s hard to accept that there is not much I can do but take it easy and wait to get better. I am so very ready to be able to see again. This is very frustrating to me but I am trying to find forbearance (but it’s hard to locate when you can’t see too well).

Armed with this useful arsenal of new knowledge I returned to work part time at OneAmerica the following day and have been working part time since (four hours a day). It’s been a fairly smooth process, I learned the hard way on Friday that my bad eye does not want me staring at a computer screen for four hours straight and that I must mix up my activities during the day or face screaming pain and swelling. But other than that – and my frequent difficulty leaving on time – the slow pace of reintegration has been very manageable for me and it feels good to begin chipping away at the projects that I have not been able to tackle and to again begin to do my part. To get through the day, I use my good eye for computer work and then try to patch it during meetings, etc.

As I am not allowed to drive (you are all much safer) I have been commuting from work in the International District in the afternoons on our fantastic, spanking new Link light rail. It takes about 15 minutes (if that) to get from the ID to Columbia City and the trains are fast, slick and always on time. I then either walk or bus the additional 1.5 miles or so home. I cannot tell you how much of a sense of freedom it gives me to know I can zip around town on light rail and have some transportation independence. If you have not yet experienced the elegant beauty of the light rail, you should hop on and take a ride, it’s lovely. Oh, and the Orca card? A vision in plastic.

With my new Magnabilities Nugget necklace (thanks Toshi!). You can kind of see how my scar/scab/incision looks on the right side.

A special thanks to everyone who sent their birthday wishes, it was a special birthday for me and I was again reminded how blessed I am to be surrounded by such a loving and amazing community. We should all be so lucky.