“Acceptance of what has happened is the first step to overcoming the consequences of any misfortune.” ~William James
Two-years ago around this time I was diagnosed with Stage-4 Liver Cirrhosis initially diagnosed due to Budd Chiari and Factor V Leiden and told I needed a liver transplant in the next few months if I was going to survive. Shortly after getting a transplant by the skin of my teeth, I barely escaped with my life again as I battled a rare and extremely fatal fungal infection in my brain called “Aspergillus Fumigatus.”
Let me give you a little background information. I was living in Greenville, SC at the time when I first got this news that I needed a liver transplant to survive. There are no transplant centers in Greenville, so it was looking like I was going to have move near a transplant hospital. I guess you could say, “luckily” for me, I was already packed, because I was in the midst of packing to move to Florida for a new career. What I did not know, was that my fate would point me back up to the Northeast, to Connecticut, where my life began, and might unfortunately end, if I didn’t get a transplant, soon.
My liver was accidentally “nicked” during my liver biopsy which went undiscovered until I collapsed on the floor one night in an attempt to go to the restroom. I almost bled to death from substantial amounts of internal bleeding, followed by four episodes of cardiac arrest; things were not looking too good at all. Miraculously, my doctors were able to stabilize me without being invasive and officially get me on the transplant list. Within two days of officially getting on “The List”, I officially received the greatest miracle of all, a second chance at life!
Shortly after my transplant, I exhibited some serious cognitive dysfunction. I was in-and-out of a “coma-like” state, and other times I was only able to say “yes ma’am” repeatedly over-and-over again. I began experiencing painful and distracting visual sensations, such as: colorful lights flashing, hearing voices, and a headache so bad, I would trade it for the worst migraine you think you’ve ever had, any day. I mentally checked-out for several days to one day awake to the comment, “You had brain surgery!” Excuse me? What did you say? “You had brain surgery!” I palmed the back of my head, and sure-enough, there was a line of staples going down the middle of my scalp. There was absolutely no other thought in my head at the time except, you’ve got to be effin’ kidding me?
Not even three-weeks after barely squeaking away with my life with a last-minute liver transplant, and now they’re telling me I had brain surgery? What for?I wondered. Well those headaches, flashing lights, and voices were being caused by a rare fungal-infection that had manifested in my brain somehow since first being on immunosuppression in Greenville.
It is unfathomable to express everything going on inside my head (literally and figuratively) at this time, but I couldn’t focus on any of that. My brain surgeon at Yale, Dr. Matouk, was unable to get all of the infection out in the first shot because there was great fear of leaving me completely blind, paralyzed, or possibly killing me due to its location in my brain. This monster of a fungal-infection had a name, and it was called aspergillus fumigatus; all I knew is that the aspergillus had to get-going, or it was going to be me that would be going….and never returning.
The following week I was hooked-up to an IV of this antifungal medication called Amphotericin B for six or more hours per night. Amphotericin B is highly toxic and it’s side-effects are what I would imagine are somewhat similar to chemotherapy; god-awful. Ampho wreaks havoc both internally and externally to the point where my various medical teams had to come to a consensus as to whether my body could tolerate the medication any longer before it would cause my kidneys to fail; yet, I needed enough of the medication to zap the fungal infection in brain or that’s another (even worse) kind of trouble we’d be dealing with. A week following the Ampho treatment, my MRI showed no improvement in terminating the remainder of the infection, therefore, a second craniotomy was immediately scheduled. Brain surgery numero dos went down on June 11, 2012, but whether I would make it out of surgery alive and not paralyzed or completely blind, was something no one could answer.
When I came back to consciousness the next day, there were doctors and family standing all-around me. “What is your name?” I was asked to write. My Aunt Caryn told me that my neurosurgeon thought there was an issue with me when I wrote down “Mo” because he only knew me by Monique. He asked me to read something from across the room and write it down, so I did, without any problems. My Aunt Caryn recalls him almost falling over in disbelief and excitement that I could read. Next, my sister asked me her name and I wrote down, “Punkass” a nickname I have loved calling her since she was a teenager, (that she doesn’t appreciate as much as I do J). Hey, well at least they knew they didn’t cut out my sense of humor during surgery!
Flash forward to 20 months later, which happened to be yesterday, March 13, 2014. I am the polar-opposite of a “morning person,” but at 6:15 am yesterday I flew out of bed, hopped in the shower, and excitedly got ready to head to Yale-New Haven for my three doctor’s appointments. You’re probably thinking, wait you got excited to go to a doctor’s appointment? Well when are taking this medication that consists of 12 pills/day, costs $4400/month, and makes you really sensitive to the sun and light, you would thrilled to go to your doctor if you thought he was taking you off of that medication today, wouldn’t you?
Following my Transplant Dermatology appointment and MRI of my brain. I met with Dr. Topal, my Infectious Disease doctor. Dr. Topal, reviewed by MRI of my brain with me, and just as I had anticipated, I can come off of the Voriconazole (anti-fungal for my brain infection). As long as the Aspergillus doesn’t come back, I will not have to take it, but the next three months they are going to watch me very carefully hoping it doesn’t come back. The thing about fungus is it usually grows very slowly, but because I’m on medication to weaken my immune system (so I don’t reject my transplanted liver), I can get ill and catch diseases that “normal” people’s immune systems can usually fend-off quite easily. The Voriconazole increased the potency of my anti-rejection drugs, so now that I am getting off the Vori, my doctors will be increasing my anti-rejection meds, which means my immune system will be weaker, and the risk of the aspergillus (if it is microscopically still present in my body at all) can try to attack my brain again.
That sounds pretty serious, but I’m not scared at all. This June will be two-years since I survived my brain surgeries to remove the aspergillus. People have brain surgeries every day across the world, but for a transplant patient to have brain surgery, twice, to remove aspergillus fumigatus, which has almost a 100% mortality rate in transplant patients, is unbelievable. Not to mention, just three very short weeks after battling for my life and having a new organ transplanted into my body, there is no other word for it besides it is a miracle!
I am so blessed to be a miracle, but it is not because of what I did, it is because I have the most incredible medical team constantly looking out for my well-being, the most wonderful friends and family constantly motivating me with their love and encouragement to do great things, and finally, because I have embraced a belief system that anything in the world is possible if you set your mind to it. My mind is set on achieving these great-big dreams of mine, like winning the Gold Medal in Golf at the Transplant Games of America and being on the Ellen DeGeneres Show to raise awareness about organ/tissue donation. I know I am a miracle, and I am beyond thankful to have been given this gift of life, and a chance to change my life for the better and inspire others along the way.
One thing I want you know is that you don’t have to have a liver transplant or have a huge hole in your head to do great things in your life. For me, it took me as sick I became to finally listen to that voice inside my head telling me take care of myself, and not just my body, but my mind, and my soul as well. If I didn’t get sick, I probably would have never changed my ways. The matter of the fact is, getting sick and being on my death-bed was the eye-opener I needed to make the changes I needed to make in myself so that I could be the best person that I can possibly be and reach my highest potential in life.
In result of my experiences, I have been given a story, a story in which I share in hopes to invigorate your childhood dreams, inspire you to make choices that fulfil your inner passions, and to believe that you are indeed capable of doing anything in life that you so desire. My sickness wasn’t a curse; it was a blessing in disguise. It saved me from own worst enemy: myself. I hope to make you guys proud as my journey continues, but most importantly I am on the path to make myself proud, a self that had been lost for years, but is finally found 🙂
“If you don’t get lost, there’s a chance you may never be found.” ~Unknown
Resolution (n.) The state or quality of being resolute; firm determination. A resolving to do something. A course of action determined or decided on.
2013 was a great year for me. I can easily say it was better than 2012, but my 2012 wasn’t too hard for anyone to top. The end result of 2012 was definitely favorable, but the process to get there was one that was hardly envious. Having a successful liver transplant by the skin of my teeth, with not even a full 48 hours to spare was a life-changing event in itself. Then throw on-top of that an extremely rare and fatal fungal infection in my brain and you don’t have to say much else to already know that 2012 was a hell-of-a-year for me. When I look back, I am often puzzled as to why or how I am alive today. You might be thinking, “That was 2012? We’re about to be in 2014!?” True, but most of my 2012-2013 was spent either ill or recovering from illness, so for the purpose of this blog, I am grouping 2012 and 2013 together as one-big healing time period.
While those questions of how or why I am still alive will never be answered, the matter of the fact is that I managed to persevere and triumph over the impeccable odds against me. It is crazy to think that almost 100% of people who inquire invasive aspergillosis in their brain while being immunosuppressed, die. I am one of very, very few people to somehow escape the burden of those devastating odds. Somehow, I, Monique Gesualdi, am still alive. To experience what I have experienced and to overcome what I have overcome, is a huge deal for me, and it has forever changed my outlook on life and how I treat myself. Not like you can easily put yourself in my shoes, nor would I want you to, but it is hard for me to genuinely convey to you how greatly this has affected my life in so many different ways.
For someone in my shoes, “Grateful” doesn’t even begin to describe your appreciation for life and the little things we take for granted each and every day. Things like walking without assistance, showering in a shower by yourself, breathing on your own, wiping your own ass, things like this we do every single day and we don’t think twice about. If asked prior to my 2012 what if those “little things” were taken away from me, could I do it? Could I live for two months of my life in the hospital, in-and-out of consciousness, having back-to-back-back surgeries that resulted in life-or-death? If I was asked that, I would have probably looked at whoever asked me very confidently answered, “Well that’s never going to happen, and even if it did, I can’t imagine spending one night in the hospital let alone two months.” When you are a kid, some of you have visions of yourself growing up, getting married, buying a house, having kids, grand kids, and so on. Never does anyone say, “I’m going to get fatally ill at age 26 and go from there.” But it was happening to me, and I had no choice but to face my illnesses head on.
I was up against the two most feared opponents of all: I was up against time and I was up against death. I have no way of changing time, and once you are “dead,” that’s it, you can’t go back in time and make yourself “undead.” When you are in the hospital and ICU and the doctor’s are doing everything in their power to save their life, you basically have no physical control of the outcome. All you can do is hope and pray and whatever happens, happens right? To one degree yes. To another, I’d say no. You have control of your attitude. For me, attitude was EVERYTHING. My attitude partially attributed to me being alive, able to write this blog (my medical team at Yale and my family and friends’ love and support were also the reason).
I would be lying if I said I had a positive attitude the entire time I was in the hospital. Luckily for me though, I had one of the best medical proxies you could imagine. My medical proxy also happened to be my motivator, my positive encouragement, my strength, and one of my reason for surviving; my Aunt Caryn. Some days were tough, really tough. My recovery once I got out of the hospital was especially rough on me just trying to get back to “myself” and nothing more. Physically, mentally, and emotionally I was being challenged to the extreme. Every single thing in my life had changed, where I lived, who I lived with, what I could do, what I couldn’t do. Just about everything. It was far from easy, but I knew what I wanted. I knew I didn’t want to die. I wasn’t ready, I was only 26 and I had so much left to accomplish. Deep down I didn’t want to just “make it out alive,” I wanted come out swinging. I felt like the previous two or three years of my life were wasted, lost searching for a purpose, MY purpose in life.
In my opinion, “happy” people wake up each morning because they have a purpose and they are on a mission to completing the next step of their purpose, whether they realize it or not. It could be something small, it could be something of greater magnitude, but it doesn’t matter what it is, as long as they have something inside that gives them drive. I call these people “happy” people, because they are at one with themselves, they know who they are, what they want in life, and they are continually moving forward with their lives in one way or another.
Next you have what I call the “complacent” people, they wake up each morning coasting through life. They don’t really have goals or anything that they are truly passionate about, challenging them to enhance their life in one way or another. They are complacent, and that is fine for them because they don’t want to actually put in the time or effort to get the results they “wish” for.
Then there are the “unhappy” people. These people don’t necessarily walk around with a frown on their face kicking the dirt, but what I mean is that their soul is not happy. I’ve seen these people and they don’t truly know who they are as a person, and they are not at one with themselves. Who they are and what they want to be are not the same person and this dissimilarity causes an internal tug-of-war with oneself. Eventually these “unhappy” people become frustrated with life, are typically not accountable for themselves, blame anything they can, and bring down anyone in arm’s reach of them. We have all heard the expression that, “misery loves company.” These people become toxic to themselves, and toxic to others. I’m sure we’ve all met a few of these people along the way or have even had a period of time where we ourselves were guilty of a time of self-pity. As my Aunt would say, these people “can’t get out of their own way,” and that couldn’t be any more well said.
I have floated between my three levels of “happiness,” “complacency” and “unhappiness” throughout my life, but post college, I was a resident in “Cluelessville” which is a suburb of “Complacent City.” I was clueless as to what to do with my life and how to get there, and this often times made me a frequent visitor of “Unhappy Ave.” I knew I was becoming complacent and it scared the living shit out of me (excuse my french). Since I was ten years old, golf was my entire life. Golf was my sport, it was my childhood, it was my heart, and I was certain it was going to be my future. I loved the challenge, the honor, and the prestige associated with golf. Later, golf wasn’t just a game, it was my “in” to greater things in life, particularly my education.
I attended Nease High School in St. Augustine, FL, and Furman University in Greenville, SC solely because of golf. My world was golf, and no matter whether I made it as a touring or teaching pro, all that mattered was golf was my past, it is my present, and it would certainly be my future. My second half of college, my love and passion for the game of golf, something since age 10, I planned on being my career, my future, was now something I “hated” doing due to a very bad two-year coaching experience. So I decided I “hated” golf for a while, quit, threw in the towel and let my clubs get dusty sitting in the garage. What I didn’t realize until recently was that I had let the game of golf define who I was. When you heard the name, “Mo Gesualdi” you automatically associated something with golf, and now, at this time in my life, all I kept hearing from family and friends was, “You’re not playing at all?” or if they asked me to play I always had an excuse as to why I couldn’t play, some legit, others just so I wouldn’t have to play. While it never felt right in my heart to “give up” golf, it had this guilt attached to it for some reason, I did it anyway, against my own instinct. One of many terrible decisions I’ve made in my life, but it was the decision I made, and one I can’t go back and change. I always knew I would get back to playing golf, but it would be on my own terms, when I was ready.
Along with throwing in the “golf towel,” I basically threw in the towel altogether. I had a horrible attitude about myself, about people, and about life for a long while. I was rather depressed my final two years of college and had to go to therapy, for the second time since I started college, one of four times total in my life. I kept it pretty quiet, mostly because I was embarrassed to go to therapy, and I was embarrassed about how I was feeling. I got it together so I wasn’t completely unglued, but the way I was put back together it was like using a cheap glue stick, barely enough to get me through as I was on the verge of “ungluing” at any point in time.
What was my problem? I didn’t realize it at the time, but I now realize I feared responsibility, I feared success, and above all, I feared failure. As a kid I was determined I was going to be a professional golfer of some magnitude when I grew up. Fast-forward to 2012 and I wasn’t on that path at all and it terrified me. Each year I was getting older and not any closer to the person I wanted to be. I was happy and smiling on the outside, taking pictures, having fun, partying, but deep down I was miserable. I was so disappointed in myself. I had no purpose, and the haphazard style life I was leading was proof of that.
Does that make me a bad person? I think not, because I was still kind and friendly and always have the best intentions for others. What it did make me was off-my-beaten path. I made a wrong-turn somewhere in my life and instead of slamming the breaks and turning around, I just kept driving not knowing where the road would take me.
Somehow I failed to accept that traveling 90 mph toward the ledge of a cliff wouldn’t have any repercussions. Well I know now, that certainly isn’t the case. Depression led to drinking. It was the only “solution” to not having to deal with my lack of purpose in life and for a while it felt fine because it opened up my social horizons and I became much less introverted and more easily extroverted. I also met a lot of people, and I was having a great time being constantly social. Every event or birthday party, I was there. If I made to one person’s invitation, I had to go to every invitation I encountered. I had a very hard time saying “no.” Then months passed, and then a year, and then several years, and I wasn’t making any progress in my goals or myself, and it began to eat away heavily at me. Not just emotionally, but physically too. I wasn’t taking care of myself the way I should have been, and just like a plant that isn’t properly watered and fed, I began to internally wilt until I was practically dried up and dead.
Thankfully I had always been an athlete and exercised, because I think that greatly contributed to my strength and ability to endure those three, major, life-saving surgeries in a few weeks time. Was my need for a liver transplant due entirely to eating and drinking lots of glutinous foods and beer over a few years? No, but it certainly didn’t help and surely it expedited my illness to the severity that it was. Is what I put into my body something I can control? Yes. Do I have much better control of my self in terms of how I nourish my body? Yes. Does it feel better? The answer is absolutely.
I feel people who binge themselves in booze, drugs, or food (or whatever superficial and temporary form of fulfillment that is their own personal weakness), is because they are trying mask the feelings that come with having no purpose in life. I not only observed this in myself, but some other people I was surrounding myself with. Not my true friends that I love with all of my heart, (you know who you are), but I encountered many other people over the years. I was “stuck” for a long time, but I finally had the strength and the courage to step away from this toxic environment and this undignified person that I was becoming.
I decided it was best for me to pack it up and move. But by the time I had decided that, it was too late. It was too late. I started feeling sick, and then I fell ill, and then I fell even more ill. It is a horrible feeling to feel hopeless, like you don’t mean anything, like you are a waste of a human being. I sadly had to hit my “rock bottom” before I realized that I was worthy of life, my life. But by then, it was just about too late.
“Just when you think things can’t get any worse, they do. I have learned that life is like hour-glass sand. Sooner or later, everything hits rock bottom, but all you have to do is be patient and wait for something to turn back around.” ~Unknown
I am so lucky, so grateful, so extremely blessed to have not let my rock bottom be the ultimate end-all. Why wasn’t it? Like I said, I will never know why I am still alive and how almost all of the other transplant patients who had a fungal infection in their brain don’t survive, but whatever the medical reasoning is, I know it is because I had a lot of unfinished business to attend to.
I was beyond the point of repair, but the one and only thing I could control was my attitude, and for some unknown reason to me, I managed to have a very positive, a very patient, and very determined attitude when I was diagnosed with stage-4 liver failure. I think that is because I knew it was my chance to make my life better, a chance to “start fresh” and lead a much more fulfilling life. With the love of my friends, family, and top-notch medical attention in my corner, I was determined to live. My MOtivation had been restored. The vision in my head of previously living scared with no destination was now replaced by a vision of living, a vision of overcoming this illness, and not only coming out with a new liver, but with a new mind-set, a new respect for myself, and a new “life.”
The new, transplanted self that I wanted to be is something I am trying and working at each and every day. It is a life-long commitment of hard work, dedication, and self-respect, that will always be a work-in-progress. So far, I am quite proud of myself and how far I have come mentally, physically, and emotionally in the past year-and-a-half. I have found my purpose in life, and that is comforting to my soul. All I will say is that my purpose has been revived and it is taken me back to where I started; back to to golf. I will get into that in another blog, but for now I want to leave you with this.
We are approaching the New Year, a time when people reflect on the past year, and make resolutions for the upcoming one. According to the University of Scranton, Journal of Clinical Psychology, 2012, 45% of you will make New Years Resolutions for next year, but only 8% of you will be successful in achieving that resolution. Those resolution odds are against you, just like the odds were against me, but with the right attitude, combined with determination, I believe you are capable of defying the odds and doing just about anything your little resolution-setting heart desires. My resolution, or my firm determination you could say, is to lead a happy, healthy, and inspirational life.
“The changes in our life must come from the impossibility to live otherwise than according to the demands of our conscience not from our mental resolution to try a new form of life.” Leo Tolstoy
First, I wanted to give a little recap of what I’ve been up to. I have been “on vacation” from Connecticut, the cold, and my “Big Fat Italian family” (whom I love very dearly) this past month. At the beginning of November I made my way back down to the south to Greenville, SC where I lived the nine years prior to my medical miracle. I was thrilled to spend a glorious nine days with some of my best college friends and also my “local” Greenvillians who reside in the area.
My trip to Greenville was a convenient and much needed planned pit stop from Connecticut on my way down to Florida. It wasn’t just any week/weekend though, it was also Furman Homecoming weekend. Not only did I get to visit with my Greenville friends, but I also had the additional pleasure of getting to see people who came for Homecoming weekend. It was so great to be back in Greenville. I enjoyed my stay greatly, but what I enjoyed the most is what I missed the most, and that is co-mingling with friends and having a good time with people my age. It was exactly what I needed and somewhat rejuvenated my soul, which had be longing for such companionship for months. Now that I have visited my friends, seen my mom and stepdad, and enjoyed some Florida golf, I feel like my optimism, my passion, and my desire to climb the highest mountain tops has been restored and I can now return to Connecticut, to my family whom I miss, and continue on my path of recovery with a refreshed, healthy, and determined mind.
Part 2 of 2 “The Sixth-Sense Penny
I spent a total of 20 days in Florida with my mother and stepfather, and during the day my mother and I spent some quality time together, busy almost each and every day doing one activity or another. One of our “activities” I am going to discuss in great detail because I found it very intriguing. This topic may not interest you at all, and that is perfectly fine, but I thought I would share my experience for those who become appealed by the “sixth sense.”
My mom (whom I sometimes refer to as “the mothership”) and I travelled from her home in Vilano Beach, FL about an hour and half down I-4 to this little tiny community in Cassadaga, FL known as the Cassadaga Spiritualist Camp. Let me preface this by saying that I am not particularly religious. I am baptized Catholic, but I do not have my Communion or Confirmation. Rather, I just do my own thing. I have my own little prayers going in my own little space and that is what currently makes me happy. For some reason though, since I was a very young person, the notion of spirits and the paranormal has always sparked an interest in me.
The mothership claims when I was two or three years old, I had her yearbook and I pointed to someone in the yearbook and told her that they were in heaven and then I pointed to someone else and said that they were going to heaven soon. Very strange for a kid to say, you might think. According to my mother, I accurately pointed to someone who had passed and unfortunately the second individual I pointed to ended up passing soon after. Being at such a young age I do not remember this, and gladly so. It kind of gives me the heevy jeevies. While I do not remember that particular incidence, I do remember on more than one occasion when I was young I thought I may (or may not) have seen something that resembled a spirit. Whenever I thought I saw something, I instantly closed my eyes and tried to block out whatever I saw out of my head and try to convince myself that it was nothing. Either way I have no conclusive evidence, just frail images in my head, the hair standing up on the back of my neck, and a gut feeling to support the notion that spirits do exist beyond life.
Back to Florida. My mom and I arrived at the Cassadaga Spiritual Camp and our first stop was at the bookstore/gift shop. We walked in and were greeted very kindly by a lady. My mom quickly decided that we needed to get our auras taken. My mom paid and we headed into the next room to have our photos taken via what appeared to be some very old fashioned polarized camera. My mom had her aura read first and then was debriefed about her aura by one of the certified aura interpreters. Next it was my turn and within a minute I was ready to have my aura read.
“Oh wow, you have such a beautiful aura!” the lady exclaimed. She goes on to briefly tell me that the green on the left means I am a teacher, or that I need to be a teacher. Then she says, “You may be an “Indigo Child.” I just nodded my head not knowing what that meant at all.
My mom finished up with her aura reading and I was then ready to get my full aura read. The aura reader, a 70-something year old woman took hold of my recent Polaroid photo and began examining my aura. My mother’s aura was mostly red with some yellow. My aura was much different though, my aura had many colors. It had a small amount of green on the left of the photo, but centrally, it was whitish/blueish/violet progressing into blue with very subtle violet present. Then in the far right corner of the photograph is violet. One of the first things the aura interpreter said to me was, “You are much more calm than your mother aren’t you.” I was thinking she nailed that right on the head but you can observe that easily without an aura reading! “You do have a beautiful aura, and it is a huge aura.” She explained to me that a large aura meant people nearby will feed off of my aura and positive energy, but she warned me to be careful because negative auras that may fall within my radius may drain me and bring me down, so I should be cautious and keep my distance from those people.
She also said I had a third eye, but the last time I checked I had either two or four, depending on if I’m wearing my glasses, but not three (lol, jk, I know what having a third eye is). She went on to say that my aura suggests that people come to me for help, which I can definitely contest to be the truth. She stressed that I am very open to spirituality and have psychic abilities. If that is the case, I should look into tuning into my “psychic” abilities so I can win the lotto and hire myself a personal driver to drive me around instead of my grandma (just a thought 😉
The other lady, who at the beginning of the aura reading said that I needed to be a teacher, told me I was going to do great things and asked to give me a hug, and then it was off to the next spiritual adventure. (I went on to read more in depth about auras and my aura and what my aura lady told me and it really interesting to read up about and relate to. When you’re bored at work piddling around on the computer you should take a few minutes and see if you can find out what your aura is.)
Next my mom and I ventured down the road the camp road to get a reading from a medium. At the camp welcome center there is a board with medium’s names and numbers that you can call and a phone right underneath it. How were we supposed to choose from the 20-something names of certified mediums on the board that day?! To my left I noticed a sign that said something along the lines of, We will not help you pick a medium, you have to let your instincts choose and whatever happens is meant to be, yada, yada. I believe the first name we chose was, “Anita Evans,” and my mom made the phone call. No answer. We tried another name, “Nora Ester.” Again, no answer. We were getting mildly discouraged and finally we tried our third attempt, and Mrs. “Judy Cooper” answered. Yay, Judy Cooper it is.
It was after our aura readings that we made our way to Judy Cooper’s location, just a block down the road from the Cassadaga Spiritual Welcome Center. Judy had a very welcoming front porch which my mom sat in a chair and I chose to sit in the rocking chair waiting for Judy to answer the door. My mom negotiated for Judy to do 30 minutes with her and then 30 minutes with me splitting the $70/hour rate into two individual readings. My mom went in and I just rocked away on the porch looking up anything I could find about my recent aura reading on my iPhone.
The thirty minutes went by exceptionally quick. My mom and Judy stepped out onto the front porch, and it was now my turn. I had the intention of being open-minded, but I also wanted to remain skeptical of her potential vagueness and any somewhat obvious speculations she might make about me. I didn’t really have any intentions on what I wanted to hear her to tell me though, for instance “Is Aunt Suzy okay?” or “Am I going to win the lotto?” (I don’t have an Aunt Suzy). The mediums are not fortune tellers, they are simply a medium between us and spiritual world. This sort of thing, mediums, spirituality, etc. isn’t math, where 2 +2 always equals 4. There is no right or wrong. It is what you chose to believe or not believe, and at this point in time I didn’t want to walk in as a skeptic nor did I want to give her any hints or clues about myself which might influence her to say certain things, I was just going with the flow anxious and curious to see what Judy was going to tell me.
I followed her into her office and sat in a chair across from a desk. She asked to join hands and said a brief prayer to the spirits asking only good spirits to come forth. She let go of my hands, closed her eyes, and starting talking very, very quickly. She told me beforehand I could write down anything she said, so I grabbed the pen and the pad that she gave me and started writing frivolously.
I ended up taking about eight pages of notes down (small notepad paper). I had already been intrigued by the aura reading, but Judy really had me. Judy started off by saying that December I am going to be dealing with a lot adjustments. She says that she knows I’m a kind person but I don’t take too much from anyone and that I do what I say, don’t just talk the talk, I walk the walk. Judy told me that I’ve been wanting to move quicker than I have been able to and that my movement has been restricted. She must be referring to the fact that I can’t drive and I get cabin fever very quickly. She then said January presents a lot of new things clearing for me. Sounds good to me, Judy, keep on.
“Wait, a few spirits are stepping forth,” Judy proclaims. “A lady is stepping in over your left shoulder and she is telling me that you are very multi-dimensional and always doing something, but you need to slow down.” Judy continues to say, “You have a very important decision to make. “This person, I’m getting a motherly vibration from with family resemblance, you may or may not know who they are.” I start thinking and I don’t have many immediate female family members who have passed. Maybe one of my great grandma’s our my aunt’s cousins? I’m not completely sure.
Judy goes on, “Quickly stepping in over your right shoulder is a friend or acquaintance who was murdered or passed very quickly or unexpectedly. They are a younger person, near your age, and they want me to tell you they are sending you pennies. Pick up these pennies when you see them and save them this is their way of paying attention to you to let you know they are there.” “Woah”, I pause for second. Okay keep writing, keep writing, keep up with Judy. Judy tells me they “stepped out”.
Next Judy tells me that sometimes my balance is off and that I will have an opportunity to remove things that are blocking me. I’m thinking to ask Judy am I going to be able to drive, is that what you mean? There is no chance to interrupt Judy as she continues speed talking. “January is going to be about duty and responsibility before pleasure, and life and improvement.” “Your movement and travel has been restricted, but this is a test of faith.” My movement, if you mean my ability to drive has been restricted, and sometimes it does drive me crazy (no pun intended), but I keep myself very busy and mind occupied as to not go stir-crazy, but Judy is telling me slow down, so then what I do?
“You have the answer to all of your questions.” Judy tells me that I get clear feelings and these quick vibes that I get from people are ones I need to start trusting. She insists that I need to start listening to my intuition about everything because it is most likely right. Thanks Judy, I’ve always felt that but I second myself and my choices often and afterward my gut also tells me when I’ve done something wrong. She tells me this because I am going to be presented with challenges dealing with other people. Judy tells me I can’t change other people or a bad situation but if I continue to think this “disappointment will be your friend.” Point taken Judy, point taken. I’ve known that for a little while and have had my fair share of disappointments with people, but Judy has inspired me to really start listening to my gut feelings, which is probably something we all should learn to do anyway.
“You are on Earth to learn lessons and you are always learning. You’ve experienced quite a few things.” I definitely have learned quite a bit about life, people, and myself while I was overcoming my illnesses which I would not have learned if I was just cruising through life like I previously was. Judy tells me, “Start writing. Write down things when you’re making decision, good and bad, this will help you decide. Write down your dreams. Your dreams are to connect with you. Write them down and they will make sense later. It will pop out at you, experiences will come into you.”
Judy changes subjects and says that, “You are always on the move but your spirits are sweeping around you. Slow down.” “You have a lot of decisions to make. Take time and don’t make snap decisions,” Judy urges me. “You may be packing, the spirits are moving you. You are on the right path. The coming months are very important. Experience the journey but don’t wander haphazardly like you’ve done in the past.” Did Judy just call me out? I think so, lol. “You have the power of choice and attitude. ” She goes on, “Learn the lesson of “no” in some situations presented to you. Damn you Judy, I am guilty of being a pushover sometimes. “You’re going to want to go the extra distance, but you need to slow down, have great preparation, and a positive attitude.” I started thinking to myself to Judy, “Are you a certified medium or my therapist because you both are starting to sound a lot alike,” haha.
My favorite thing Judy says to me is next. “Once you set your mind to something it’s like the jaws of a shark.” Could she be referring to my plan with my aunt Caryn to be on the Shark Tank? That would be pretty awesome. Judy goes on, “Spirit is opening a divine plan for you. The next six months are going to be a roller coaster ride. Listen to yourself. There are going to be a great deal of changes physically, emotionally, and financially, all for the better.” Thanks Judy, that’s what I like to hear! “Reach out, participate, ask for help with these new opportunities. You will move forward in every level of your life.” Boomshki! I love hearing that! “Don’t hold on, use your free will.”
Judy then tells me that I’m not good around chaotic people and that I don’t argue but I will if I have to, if “my feathers have been ruffled.” People who ruffle my feathers, I need to step back from. She says that people who are very opinionated I need to step back from, and also emphasizes that because their negative words or opinions will feed into me. She also said something along the lines that my aura reader told me which was to be cautious of negative energy as it was cause me to be off-balance. “Words attract people, be choosy with your words, it’s your turn!” Judy says leaving me puzzled with that one. “Dig beneath the surface of people and their appearances. You will be meeting people but don’t take people in too quickly, use your intuitiveness. Judy repeats that I have a big decision to make, write in my journal about my dreams, the good and the bad and that I am not trusting my own “knowingness” and I need to.
“Affirm,” Judy says. “You see it happening, it’s going to happen.” “The spirits hear what you’re saying. You’ve been disappointed in people before. Go with your inner self, you have that ability.” She skips over to say, “You have a big gift in front of you, hold onto it.” My transplanted liver I’m assuming? “You will be moving, slow down, take time to make decision. It will be a contract. Signed. Make sure that it is worded the way you want because it will be permanent. You will be able to change your decision but it will be costly. It will be a contract for work, school. This will be in September. Don’t sign anything right away.” I think I know what Judy is referring to and that excites me greatly. Also its weird how she mentioned September specifically because this past September when I was meeting with my therapist, we often discuss my desires to find ways that I can resume my “normal” life, as least as much as possible. At that session we decided that in one-year, by September 30, 2014, I would be moving in pursuit of a career where I can continue my recovery, stay healthy, get stronger, and try to pursue a “normal” life again. Now I just hope Judy is right! I don’t want to give it away but come next year if Judy is right I will be sure to let you know! For Judy, whom I met 15 minutes ago to say that to me, is quite the coincidence but just makes me wonder, what if she really does talk to these spirits?
“The spirit over your left shoulder, the motherly one, wants to give a pink rose, and also a blue coat. This coat is for your protection.” What does the pink rose mean? My grandmother’s name is Rose, does it have anything to do with her side of the family? So I have a pink rose and a blue coat and now Judy is telling me the other spirit, the one over my right shoulder says they died before they were supposed to that they were too young.
I’m thinking this has to be my organ donor. My organ donation was kept “anonymous” but some of my family was told that my liver is from a donation that happened as a result of a car accident that some young people died in and that my donor saved 8 lives and enhanced the lives of up to 18 people that day (including tissue donation). This is just one thing I have been told. Someone also told me my donor is a 40-something year old Ecuadorian man. I was able to find this man in the newspaper archives and he passed on May 1, 2012, but my transplant was late at night on May 3, which means my donor passed sometime on May 2nd, not May 1st, so that man couldn’t be my donor.
I have spent many nights grieving over the fact that here I am alive, but only as a result of another person’s passing. It is one thing if they lived a plentiful life, but to hear that it may be someone young, someone who had not lived long enough to experience the many things they probably wished to experience, breaks my heart a little. A lot, actually. There is no way humanly possibly for me to ever repay them for my life-saving gift which simultaneously is the abrupt ending to their future. It is a tragic yet miraculous thing at the very same time which has been a struggle for me to deal with everyday.
The following day after my mom and I visited the Cassadaga spiritual camp, I resumed the rest of my vacation as normal. It is necessary for me to get my exercise in or I get quite irritable, so I frequently walked 3.5 miles from my parent’s house over the Vilano Bridge and back. I was walking over the bridge as I normally do thinking about many things, normal as well. This day my mind was preoccupied with what Judy had said to me the day before.
Since my liver transplant I have been very curious about my donor and wrote a letter last fall which I submitted to the New England Organ Bank which goes through a very rigid process. You don’t know really anything about the donor or their family due to privacy laws, but just knowing they had an accident and were young is not enough for me. I have a very personal connection with this individual, I mean not only did they save my life but a part them lives inside me. They are one of the only reasons that I am alive today, I can not help that I want to know who they were.
I do completely understand donor’s families in this situation to choose to keep their privacy, especially if they have not had adequate time to grieve and more forward. I do. I can only imagine what it feels like on that end. I hope one day they do come around and choose to read my letter to them. I put my heart and soul into that letter and I want them to know how truly sorry I am for their loss and that even though I have no way to make up for their loss, I will do everything in my power to make sure I use my second chance for greatness.
Here I am walking up the bridge, these thoughts filling my head, tears streaming down face, hopefully masked behind my sunglasses so walkers passing by do not see the emotional wreck traveling up the bridge one foot in front of the other. As I approach the very top of the bridge, my head looking down at my steps, I see a penny. Could it be? No, there’s no way, it’s just a penny, pennies are everywhere. But what if? What if Judy was right and my donor is acknowledging me? I picked up the penny and not even moments later a lady and her teenage son stop. My mind is still going crazy over the penny as the lady tells me her son survived cancer and this is his first time walking over the bridge and if I wouldn’t mind taking a picture of them. Of course I don’t mind! She hands me her phone and I snapped a few photos, she thanked me, I congratulated them and they went on their way.
I stood for another moment and decided I needed to snap a photo of my penny on the bridge where I found it, so I did. This could be a complete coincidence but Judy seemed to be right about so many things I couldn’t possibly ignore it. And then, the picture with the cancer survivor at the same time just seemed a little too bizarre that it had to be more than coincidence, it must be a sign from my donor, especially since I was thinking about him/her at that very moment.
You probably think I am crazy, and I probably am, but it is this “craziness” that creates a drive within me, a belief system, that there is more to life than just you, your body and your mind. There has to be a purpose for it all somehow, somewhere. How many times a day do you ask yourself why, why this, why that? Or maybe you don’t. I do all of the time, just wondering away about so many things and having virtually no definitive answers.
Whether “the spirits” are right or Judy was just merely giving me a $70 therapy session, it was all good advice that I choose to embrace and head forward with wherever it is this path that I am in is taking me. Alanis Morissette travels with one hand in her pocket; I am going to travel with a penny in mine 🙂
“Walk with the dreamers, the believers, the courageous, the cheerful, the planners, the doers, the successful people with their heads in the clouds and their feet on the ground. Let their spirit ignite a fire within you to leave this world better than when you found it…”
― Wilferd Peterson