{Heart Walk} Being an Auntie Is Why I Walk 

 

 Every day little girls are born into families where there Auntie lost her life to a Stroke or Pulmonary Embolism. They are growing up in a world where they only know her through stories and photos. They go their entire life without her, longing for the Auntie that was taken away all to soon.

This would have been Sophia’s world, but because of research my life was saved. Because people just like you are donating to the cause, research is funded and women like me get to walk away. We get to walk away on borrowed time, hold our nieces, and make memories with our families. 

I am greatful for this life I get to lead. For this little girl, and the memories I create with her. One day she will realize just how hard her Auntie fights for her healthy tomorrow. 

So please join us in this fight, together we can make a stand, together we can WIN this war. Join us at the Twin Cities Heart Walk on Saturday April 25, 2015. 

Twin Cities Heart Walk 2015

Life is why 

{Divorced Life} April 3, 2005

Ten years ago a bright eyed college junior walked across the Ross Hall Parking lot to hug her date. He had brown eyes and he was her cup of hansom. That day took them to canal park in Duluth, the ice was just letting out on the lake, the cool breeze landed her in his arms, and they had conversation over burgers at Grandma’s. She felt a tug like she never had before, with each word she fell for him. That night was the beginning of a beautiful disaster.

The Monday after our first date Scott called me and told me he had something to say. That if I wanted to walk away, he understood and that was ok. I waited, he took a deep breath and said “I have a son.” I excitedly asked “what’s his name, how old is he.” At 22 I stepped up to the plate and took on the role of stepmom. It’s a role that I cherished and I loved Nylan as he was my own.

Young love is full of passion with a dash of fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of what would happen if you veered from the vision you created and the path you dreamed of. Somewhere between 2005 and 2006 I threw caution to the wind and went all in. I graduated in May 2006, moved in with him in July and was engaged by thanksgiving.

Law school was put on the back burner and I started forming a new dream. I found a career in the pharmacy benefit management field and started planning our wedding. May 2008 seemed like a lifetime away, but in the wedding planning word it was just a day away. I planned every detail right down to our orange wedding cake.

Scott and I traveled the globe together. Cruises became our thing, we saw the Texaribian, Alaska, Africa and Europe. Money it wasn’t an object, we did what we wanted to. Scrapbooks were filled with photos of a happy couple and photos of the little family surrounded the home.

I just wasn’t marrying Scott I was marrying Nylan too. I raised Nylan like he was my own, we played together, baked together, and I showed him more love than one soul can handle. He was mine and that’s all that mattered. In the heat of wedding planning I decided to go back to school, we bought a house and continued to build a storybook life.
Married Life
A life that was built on unstable ground. Scott cheated before we even said I do. I brushed it off and thought he would change as soon as we said I do. His ring was more of an anchor than a symbol. He didn’t want to be with just me. Overtime the words unraveled and our story fell apart. He took comfort in the arms of someone else, blamed me for our “bad marriage” and repeatedly told me that I was no longer attractive.

We saw our first wedding anniversary, we spent it apart. He was in Seattle and I stayed home with Nylan. Five months later on one fateful October day I almost died. Scott was to busy being Scott to care. He didn’t realize that my life had changed. I was no longer the woman he married, I had changed, my life was almost pulled away from me and I would never be the same.

He couldn’t handle the new me, he chose to leave me alone most nights and between WOW and the women we hardly spoke to each other. Well we must have found time to hang out because the joke was on me. On April 1, 2010 I found out I was pregnant with our son.Scott seemed genuinely excited to have a baby with me.

Yet the seat in my prius was moved each morning. I knew he didn’t give up his flings and I started looking at my options. My marriage was going nowhere fast and I would raise the child on my own if I had to. God stepped in and on May 11, 2010 I found out our son was gone. Scott was in Vegas, he didn’t even bother coming home, Sherri took me to the hospital and friends took care of me. No one should have to go trough the death of a child alone. When he came back, he expected me to be the same.

I would never be the same! I survived a PE and stroke, to only turn around and have my child die. I was broken and there was only one option, leave. On June 27, I walked away from my loveless marriage and started searching for myself. It will be five years this June, five beautiful years and I can truly say that I found myself.

To be honest I wouldn’t trade the five years I had with Scott, for those are the years that taught me to fight for myself. I know that I never want a marriage like that again and that no woman should settle for being kept. I do not hate him, I actually just don’t feel anything towards him, he is my son’s father and because of that Scott will always be a part of me.

Just like how my life would be different if I had never gone out on that date 10 years ago. Who knows I may be a lawyer, I might not of had a stroke, and I would probably be married with children. I chose to dance that day, I chose to throw caution to the wind and let fate ride. Fate she has brought me to a lot of beautiful places and put me through experiences that have given me a lifetime of lessons. I have no regret, because that one choice lead me through a beautiful disaster that I get to call life.
Post Marriage

{Affordable Care Act} D.C. Meet AJ

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There are moments where I have to pinch myself to make sure that I really am living this life. I went from survivor to advocate, to spokeswoman. Last Thursday I received an email from the American Heart Association’s National Advocacy office inviting me to Washington D.C. This just wasn’t any old regular invite, this this was an opportunity of a life time. I was invited to Washington D.C. by House Democratic Leader Nancy Pelosi. When Nancy Pelosi invites you to D.C., you go, YOU GO and I did just that.

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I went and I became a part of history. I was invited to DC to speak at a press conference celebrating the 5th anniversary of the Affordable Care Act. The conference was held on the Capital Steps and it was organized by Leader Pelosi and members of the Democratic Caucus. Together we celebrated the Act and the fact that is working for millions of Americans. I am just one of the millions of Americans who benefited from the Affordable Care Act.
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This was my moment to put a face to a cause. Words cannot describe the impact the Affordable Care Act has made on my life. As a Pulmonary Embolism / Stroke survivor I can no longer be denied coverage or be forced to pay more because of my medical history. In the eyes of the law I am equal to my healthy peers and because of this I am able to afford quality insurance and put my health first.

Speaking

Yes, I found myself struggling to choose between paying my bills or paying for the medical care that I needed. For 18 months I went without health insurance and for part of that time I was only making $12 an hour. My most expensive prescription was $287.00 a month and I tried skipping it for a while, that just turned into a very expensive disaster. No one should ever have to choose between life saving care and bills. I never for one thought I would ever be in that position, but at 28 I found myself there. I found myself struggling to stay a float and was ashamed that I could not afford the health care I desperately needed.

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Today I am no longer ashamed, I am empowered. I have an insurance card in my pocket and I owe it all to the Affordable Care Act. I no longer had to settle for a job, instead I got to hold out for the one I wanted. I no longer have to check the couch for spare change just to pick up my prescription. Instead I walk right into Target and pay only $20.00 for a brand name drug. I can afford to go to the doctor and I am now getting routine care. I can for the first time in a very long time, put my health first. Life is not worth living if you do not have your health.

{Nuva Ring} Claim Approval and Alligators 

Late last night I fired of an email asking for an update on the Nuva Ring Claims process. Morning came and I was wrapped up in prepping for a work party, that email was long forgotten. By 2pm I had a chance to look at my email and there is was the update that I had asked for.

I read that email a few times and it took a while for the following scentance to sink in “We have been notified that your case did qualify for settlement under the injury of pulmonary embolism.” Wow, Merk was going to be putting a dollar sign on my injury and calling their payment fair compensation. I called my parents and together we did a happy dance. 

For me, this case was never about the money. No amount of money can undo the harm that was done, it cannot restore me whole, and mostly it will never bring my fertility back. Complications from the Nuva ring have hindered my ability to carry a child. Alucious will be my only baby and that sweet boy rests with God. 

Alucious would be 5 this year. Five years ago I bought a tiny baby alligator for him and it sat in the nursery waiting for him to arrive. Alucious never met the alligator instead a crown was placed upon his head and he rests with the angles. I hung on to the alligator in hopes that one day I would be able to give it to a second child. I still hold out a shit ton of hope that I will have a baby of my own. For now the little alligator hangs out in my kitchen and watches the world go by while waiting for Alucious. 

The Nuva Ring changed my life in more ways than I ever thought possible. There are days where I want to give Merck a high five because in their failure I found purpose. I am more confident in myself and I am determined to make this word a better place. The Nuva Ring  was my slingshot and I have never looked back. I turned a shitty situation into a life lesson for all of us and I use my story to create change. I cannot undo what happened to me, but I sure as hell can do everything in my power to prevent a woman from enduring my fate. If I can prevent one PE, then the hell I went throught was worth it. 

Yes, Merck I will take your check, but just know that your failure of a product launched my purpose in life and I will not give up or in until it is no longer prescribed in this country. 


{Go Red For Women} When A Doctor Fails

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We have talked about the statistics. We talked about the warning signs and about what to do when someone is having a stroke. What we have yet to talk about is that sometimes doctors fail.

On October 14, 2009 I went to the Alina clinic in Woodbury for my yearly exam and birth control prescription renewal. The doctor was more concerned about whether or not my insurance would pay for the pap because I was a few weeks early. She said “Ya know they only pay for one per year. Your last exams was in November 2008. So they might not pay and you will get a bill.” The doctor actually left the room for a few minutes so I could think about whether or not I wanted my exam. Still to this day I can’t believe she did that.

When she came back in the room she was rushing and barely listening to anything I was saying. I was getting annoyed so I changed my tone and said “look I am really tired, my right leg has been throbbing, I have redness and swelling in my calf and upper thigh. This isn’t normal for me.” The doctor looked me in the eye and said “well you said you haven’t been walking as much. Go home walk and drink more water. Here’s your script. Bye.”

With those words she left the room and I got dressed. If she wasn’t concerned then I shouldn’t be. So I didn’t give it a second though and I went on about my day. As the days went by I wasn’t getting any better. I had shooting pains and major swelling in my leg. Again I brushed it off, drank some water, and walked a little more. I had bigger things to tackle. I finished out my last few days at the pharmacy benefit management company and looked forward to staring my new job that Monday. I didn’t have the time to be sick, so my health it was shoved to the side. After all the doctor she wasn’t worried so I wasn’t going to worry either.

Monday came and I was super pumped for my new job. By the end of the day I did not feel well. The shooting pain was moving up my leg into my stomach and I had this massive head ache. When I got home I took some Tylenol and went to bed. I woke up fine on Tuesday and set out to conquer day 2 of my new job. I felt fine all day Tuesday. Wednesday afternoon would prove to be difficult. I had this pain it felt like someone was dragging a knife up and down my right side. My leg was so swollen it barely fit in my pants and I just felt sick. When I got home I took some Tylenol and went to sleep.

Thursday October 22, 2009 I woke up feeling fine. I had slight pains in my chest, I chalked it up to a cold and headed out to work. Fuck me, the freeway was bumper to bumper and I was worried about being late. I continued on I94, as I drove the pain in my chest kept on getting worse. It felt like thousands of knives poking me and when I tried to take a deep breath it felt like trying to inflate a tiny balloon. Again I said to myself “don’t worry you will be fine, all you need to do is make it to work, take some Tylenol and drink some water. My condition worsened, by the time I reached Saint Paul I could barely breath, my arms were going numb, my heart was racing, and I, I was fighting. Lexington Parkway, I made it there and took the exit. I drove all the way back to Woodbury. I remember thinking do I go home or do I go straight to the Hospital.

I chose the hospital and that is where my morning unraveled. The doctor ruled out a heart attack and he was leaning towards a respiratory infection. I apologized profusely for taking up their time. My blood oxygen level was below 50% and the doctor paused for a moment and asked if I was on a birth control I told him “yes, Yes I am. I am on the Nuva Ring.” The Doctor explained the risks of blood clots and the D-Dimer test to me. He told me, its most likely not that, but we want to be safe. The results came back and the results were not good. I was in trouble. I was sent off to CT and with in forty minutes the blood clot was found. I had a blood clot the size of a ten cent gumball in my left lung. It was wedged in the main valve leading from my left lung to my heart. My lung had signs of infarction, I had 20% tissue death in the lower portion of my left lung. My heart was barely getting any blood nor was my body getting the vital amount of oxygen it needed.

The Doctor ordered the highest dose of Heparin possible. He talked to me and tried to explain everything that was going on. A nurse he noticed that my blood pressure was climbing. I remember looking at the nurse and saying “I feel really light headed, like I am sinking, and and……..” In that moment I lost my words. In that moment I had a stroke. The staff gave me clot busters and started the Heparin drip. I was not going home for a while. At 26 years old, just five days shy of my 27th birthday I almost died. My life was forever changed and I was left to chart my course as a survivor.

In the coming days I would learn that my stroke was 100% preventable. On October 14, 2009 I described the tell tale signs of a possible blood clot in the leg. She knew I was on the Nuva Ring which was known to cause blood clots. All my doctor had to do that day was listen to me. She had the ability to order a D-Dimer, that test would have signified that I had a clot somewhere in my body, instead she dismissed my concerns and sent me home. Preventable was the hardest pill I had to swallow. I went through hell because a doctor didn’t give a fuck about me, she was more concerned about my insurance company paying than my health.

I had to endure three weeks of Lovenox injections, seven months of INR checks and take warfarin sodium in an attempt to keep my blood thin. Worst of all because of her oversight that day, I can no longer carry a child. OBGYN’s are suppose to bring babies into this world, not take away a woman’s fertility. They are suppose to advocates for women’s health and not be the reason a woman’s health fails. I was on a birth control, so as I told her “Hey my leg hurts, its swollen, red, and warm to the touch.” A red flag should of went up and she should have done her duty and ordered the D-Dimer. Her lack of concern made me dismiss a shit ton of red flags. I thought “the doctor wasn’t concerned, so why should I be concerned?”

The beautiful thing about a woman’s body is that, it never steers her wrong. I should have listened to my gut and pushed for a second opinion. That one doctor changed my perspective and now I fight for my own health. I am not afraid to ask for a second, third, or forth opinion. I will not give up or in until I find someone who is just as passionate about health as I am. I will be damned if I ever get dismissed by a doctor again. To be honest I don’t trust doctors anymore. They are only as smart as the paper their license is printed on.

The OBGYN I saw that day is fully aware of what happened to me. She actually called me and apologized. I said to her “Your apology cannot bring my lung function back, it will not restore my ability to have a baby, and it will not make your lack of concern OK. You can shove your apology up your ass. What’s done is done.” I cannot undo what she did to me, but I sure as hell can make sure no other woman endures my fate. If my story saves one woman or makes one woman pause and ask her doctor “what is my risk.” Then the hell I went through on that day was worth it, because I was able to make a difference in another woman’s life.
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{Go Red} The Story of A Woman’s Heart Is Why

IMG_6414-1When people find out that I had a stroke, they look at me like I have an infinite amount of wisdom. Wisdom,
Ha I am only 32 years wise and there are things I will never begin to understand. I, I am just a small town girl who had a stroke and some how I get to do big things.

If you would have told me five years ago that I would get to participate in a photo shoot and a PSA commercial to raise awareness of heart disease and stroke in women. I would of probably giggled and said “you’re nuts!” But here I am, it’s been five years and I am thriving. Brave doesn’t describe it, I am baring my soul for the public good. I am putting a face to a horrible experience.

Yet on the same coin, I am raising awareness that strokes can and do happen to perfectly healthy young women. That birth control has and does cause serious life altering side effects. I am raising awareness that, before the affordable care act, young women like me couldn’t afford health insurance. We put off going to the doctor because it was expensive. Now I truly can put my health and mostly my heart first.

I love with all of my surviving heart and I do not back down from challenges. Because I, I survived the worst day possible. I am more than a stroke, I am more than the collateral damage Merck accounted for, I am more than a survivor, I am a woman with a vibrant heart. I am first and for most a mother to my son in heaven and a mama to a Muppet like dog. I am an Aunt, a Daughter, a Sister, a Friend, and a Girlfriend. I am many things and I play many roles, yet survivor is one that I will never give up.

I am proof that every horrible situation has a silver lining. Six months after my Stroke I found out I was pregnant with my son. My heart was full and I felt vindicated. That somehow God still believed in me and that good still existed in this world. Even thou Lucia never took a breath, he is my greatest joy. He is the reason I do what I do and I want him to be proud of his Mama on earth.

My P.E./Stroke and death of my son were not the end of my horrible bad days. They were just the beginning and those moments of utter disaster gave me the strength I needed to put myself first and walk out of a loveless marriage. Eight months after I had my pulmonary embolism and stroke I filed for divorce. Surviving taught me to listen to my heart and to put myself first. A woman’s heart will never steer her wrong.

It’s been almost five years since my divorce was finalized and I have never looked back. I had to come into my own and figure out who I was. Surviving is only half the battle. One cannot simply just survive, they need to thrive. Once you start to thrive, you start living again. I rented my very first apartment, adopted a dog, changed jobs, found myself, and started dating. I’ve had my moments where I swore to myself that I would be single forever, only to be swept of my feet. Love it eluded me, but I finally caught it with my butter fly net! Its an amazing feeling to be in love with a man who loves every inch of my surviving heart!

I own everything that has happened to me. This is the story of my heart and I would not trade it for anything in this world. It’s mine, I have loved every moment of this beautiful disaster that I call “my life.”

But mostly, I have spent the past five years encouraging women to be their best health care advocate. Encouraging women to be brave, to go against the grain, and mostly to fight for themselves. The moment we give up and give in, is the moment we lose hope. No woman deserves to fight alone, all of us are in this together until the bitter end.

{Thankful} 1 day out of 365

Giving thanks for one day out of three-sixty-five just seems plain old silly to me. I wake up each morning with a thankful surviving heart and give props when they are due.

I am thankful for:

The American Heart Association – Minnesota
Heart
Without the American Heart Association my Father and I would not be standing. Because of their dedication to a world without heart disease and stroke, we were saved. The AHA is lobbying for heart healthy policies, raising funds for life saving research, and giving all of us a chance at tomorrow. The American Heart Association #IsWhy. The AHA gave me a platform to share my story and by using my voice I am changing our tomorrow for the better.

Earlier in the year I was diagnosed with an autoimmune/auto inflammatory disease. I am sick with a disease that doesn’t even have a name. My immune system no longer has an off switch and my body has declared war on itself. Test showed that I had high C-Reactive Protein and with my family history I am destined for Congestive Heart Failure. I have a 95% chance of following in my Daddy’s footsteps. My Pulmonary Embolism and stroke were a fluke, but this, this was all ready written in the cards. I am not worried nor am I scared, because I know the American Heart Association is fighting for my tomorrow. They are raising funds for critical research that will one day save my life. And for that I am incredibly thankful.

“My Mama and Pete aka my Dad”

Photo by: Stephanie Ryan Photography

Photo by: Stephanie Ryan Photography


My Parents are my greatest cheerleaders. Together we faced the unknown, fought the good fight, and with faith in our hearts we saw a better day. My Father is a 13 year congestive heart failure survivor and my Mama is one tough cookie. She takes care of my dad, sets up his pills, drives him to the Mayo, and without her he would not be alive. She puts her needs aside to care for the man that fathered her daughters. My Mama does it without question, she is an extremely giving soul that doesn’t know how to quit. Because she cared, because she loves him, my Dad got to see his daughters graduate college, get married and divorced, he stood by my side as I recovered from a stroke, he said hello and goodbye to his first grandchild, and got to hold his second in his arms. Because of My Mama, my Daddy is living the life that dreams are made of.

Sophia

Photo by: Stephanie Ryan Photography

Photo by: Stephanie Ryan Photography


There are no words to describe my love for this little girl. I fell in love with Sophia the moment I laid eyes on her. Connected our souls are and she will always be a light in my life. Watching her grow and come into her own has been a great joy. Hearing her voice whisper into my ear, her I love yous, and her “Hi Auntie Mannies” never get old. Sophia has my heart and I have hers. Auntie is the greatest title I have ever been given and everything I do is for her healthy tomorrow.

Cullen aka The Muppet Like Dog

Photo by: Stephanie Ryan Photography

Photo by: Stephanie Ryan Photography


Those who say “a dog cannot bring you happiness,” have never owned a dog. This little white ball of muppet like fur has brought so much joy, love, and laughter into my life. Cullen has been my trusty little side kick, my confidant, my fashion critic, and mostly the best four legged friend a girl could ever ask for. He and I are as thick as thieves. Mama and Muppet together forever and ever.

Divorced Life
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Yes, I am thankful for my crazy Divorced Life that is a beautiful disaster that even I could never have imagined. Life, it didn’t pass me by, instead it was patiently waiting for me. Waiting for me to find my way and to come into my own. My life, it has been far from easy. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Because in the end it is my beautiful story and no one else can live my words. No one else can love the way I do, fall flat like I do, and no one, no one can contain my passion for living like I do.

I have fallen in and out of love and said goodbye more times than I care to count. It seems that God needs my friends more than I do. They are now apart of the stars that I place my wishes on. All of the women who lost their lives due to complications from the Nuva Ring are the reason I do what I do, Because I know if they were given the chance they would gladly take my seat on earth and continue the good fight. I owe every moment of my messy divorced life to the four people who died so I could be the one to live another day.

To live another day on my never ending quest to find love. Love is a dream that I have been chasing. I want a second chance to prove to the world that I AmandaJean can have a successful marriage. For a little while Charlie made that dream come true. God he had other plans for him and I was left with a broken heart. I gave myself time, breathed in the loss, and looked to the stars. Those stars lit my way and I can finally say I have found someone who loves my kind of crazy. Who appreciates my honesty, my ability to live in the emotionally raw and one who is intrigued by my wit. For the first time in four years, I am truly happy. I feel like my old self and my heart is bursting with more joy than one soul can handle.

I am thankful for fate, for she has finally smiled upon me.

{Divorced Life} Emotions In My Pocket

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The above quote has kept me going on my toughest days. At the end of the day we are all just little nuts trying to hold our ground. What we do with that ground is what matters. What matters is that we hold steady in the winds of change and stay true to who we are when the storms end.

My life has been anything but easy and there are moments where I look up and say “why me?” I didn’t choose this life, it chose me. I am the human Bermuda Triangle and I always brace myself for hurricanes. I have built up walls to hide the hurt and to keep people out. My heart it’s been broken and patched a time or two. I am afraid that if I put it out there it will get sucked right back into the triangle.

Survivor, that’s a term I hear over and over again. I want to be more than a survivor. I want to be more than a grieving mother, friend and fiancé. I want to be more than broken. Broken is what people see when they look at me. I am strong and mighty on the outside, but on the inside its a different story. I live with one foot in the now and one in the past. Emotions, I am not good at dealing with them. I tuck them in my back pocket and march on.

I cannot out run my emotions, or the heart ache, or the fact that I survived, and definitely not my past. In order to move on I need to face the very things that made me who I am. I need to embrace the very things that terrify me and to realize that I too am human. I, I need to face my shit and deal with my neatly pocketed emotions.

When I deal with the past, face the ugly, and own my shit I will be able to face myself. I want to have healthy long lasting relationships. I want to actually connect with a man on a deep you know all my secrets kind of level, and to stop pushing my dearest friends away when I feel they are to close.

Year 32 is going to be the year of been there, done that, and I owned my shit. It’s not going to be easy, yet I am not scared. My family and friends are cheering me on and all of them think owning my shit is a good idea.

After all in five short years I had a stroke, lost a child, got a divorce, lost friends, fell in love, lost my fiancé, got sick, and yea the list goes on………. It’s time to face all of those things and to deal with the emotions of the past. I am finally ready to face what’s in my back pocket and mostly I am ready to face myself.

{Family} #NotYourMascot

MascotWhen I walk onto a Reservation I do not have to drop my pedigree, some how they just know that I belong. I am a biracial girl growing up in a one color world. History has taught us that the “n word” isn’t cool yet its still ok to shout out “RED SKINS” on game day. No one bats an eye when Native American imagery is used in a harmful light, they scoff when we ask them to stop, and they they just don’t change. The American Indian is the personal punching bag of the American people and it will remain socially acceptable until we say NO MORE!

NO MORE! The time is now to rise up and fight for ourselves. Tomorrow thousands of full bloods, half breeds, friends, and supporters will unite as one. As one in a never ending battle to protect our heritage. I am and will always be more than the color of my skin. I am more than my blood quantum. I have three hundred years of history running through my veins, the blood of warriors, chiefs, and adventures. The past it carries me and it drives me to make a difference. I owe it to my 4X great grandparents to continue their fight and to carry out their dream of a better day.

Chief Sky Woman and Bazile rest on Madeline Island. I am lucky, I can visit the graves of my 4X great grandparents. I lay tobacco down and thank them for engraving the unwavering desire for change into our family tree. For daring those that came before me to follow their hearts and to make it in this world. My heart it always leads me to the Reservation where fry bread, coffee and stories are at the ready. I love hearing the stories of my elders, watching the ladies bead, and the sound of the drums bring me to tears.

Red Skin is a term tied to assimilation, elimination and re-organization of the American Indian. My family was doing all right until the assimilation period. Geneva Grace refused to sell her land in the name of progress. She wanted to raise her children where she was raised and to remain on her lake front property. The church they had a different idea and while she was away the scooped up my Grandfather and his siblings. The officials told Geneva that they would give her $10 and a ticket to Minneapolis if she signed over the deed. She took it and when she arrived in the city she was told ‘your children died in transport.”

Geneva never gave up hope, she didn’t believe the lies they told her. Out of survival she remarried a soldier and made do. Her daughter June was sent to Arizona, Walter to California, and Clifford to Lake City. Clifford is where my story starts, he is the reason I am on this earth. He was “adopted” by a German couple, they gave him everything and raised him as their child instead of a servant. When he was 18 his “adopted” father confessed and told him that he was bought, that he was an Indian and told him his real last name. That name was his ticket to the past, his tan skin lead him to Prairie Island. Bit by bit his story came together. He took solitude in the bottle, comfort in the bar, and became a broken Indian with a past to hard to bare.

When my Grandfather was an old man a letter came from one Geneva Cox. The letter simply said “I am your mother.” Geneva never gave up hope that her children were alive, Clifford was the only one she ever got to see again. Shortly after the reunion she died. Assimilation tore my family apart, but we refused to be beat down and the postal service brought us back together again with one letter. Geneva is and will always be apart of my families story. My Great Grandmother has been apart of me since the day I was born, Geneva is my middle name. This was my Dad’s way of honoring the past and bringing our family full circle.

Full Circle is when fate brought me to college in the north land. My last name gave me away and the director of the First Nations Studies program took me under his wing. He told me stories of the past, taught me my culture, and mostly he helped me figure out who I am. With professor Johnson’s help I claimed my heritage and came into my own as a biracial woman. I am not one color, but many colors and for that I will always be grateful. College is where I took up the fight to propel Indian Education and Cultural issues forward. I have been fighting to end the use of Native American Mascots and to end Columbus Day for a very long time. The issues at hand are near and dear to my heart.
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An Eagle feather is the highest honor an Indian can receive, Professor Johnson gave me my first and since then I have been given one more. Charlie’s family gave me the second one on the day of his funeral. Charlie was honored with the Eagle Feather because he fought tooth and nail to better the lives of his people. In the eyes of his tribe he was a warrior and they honored his death by celebrating his life. Charlie was Mohican and Ojibway, he loved his heritage and the “Red Skin” name made his blood boil. He believed in a day where he would no longer be judged by the color of his skin, but by his legal wit. Tomorrow I will march in honor of my ancestors, Geneva, Clifford and for Charlie’s dream. I will carry out his dream of living in a better day where the color of ones skin no longer matters. Because I am more than White, I am more than a Red Skin, I am more than an Indian, I am more than a half breed, I am AmandaJean and I am not your mascot!

{Hearts On 22} Five Borrowed Years

Top right photo was taken one month after my PE and Stroke

Top right photo was taken one month after my PE and Stroke

I honestly cannot believe that it’s been five years. It seems just like yesterday when I set out to work oblivious to what this day would hold. I still remember what I wore and that I was upset because I forgot to buy creamer the night before. It was a free jeans day and I wore a gray cardigan with a white eyelet button down peasant style top and jeans paired with cranberry colored flats. It was also day #4 at my brand new job. I was busy learning the ins and outs of replevin work and didn’t have the time for inconveniences.

On Tuesday night I felt this excruciating pain rush through my body. I barely made it through the evening rush hour drive. I came home put my purse down, took some Tylenol and crawled into bed. Wednesday morning I was right as rain and went on about my day. On October 22, 2009 I woke up with a mild nagging pain in my chest. I didn’t think anything of it, figured I was coming down with a cold and brushed it off.

My body was screaming for help and I, I just ignored the signs. I had reached the Sun Ray shopping center, the pain was getting a little worse, still I brushed it off. A few miles down the road that nagging pain turned into what felt like a thousand knives cutting me at once. Breathing was proving to be difficult and my arm was going numb. I’d try to breathe deep, my lungs they fought back and I had to make the decision call mom, no not an option she will panic. Pull over, no you are afraid to be stuck on the side of the road. Oh look Lexington parkway, take the exit.
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The exit, I took it. To this day I have no idea how I made it to Woodwinds Health Campus in Woodbury MN. The only thing I remember is throwing the Prius into park and collapsing into the security guards arms. Some how by the grace of God I made it to safety. When I came to the ER staff ruled out a heart attack and a panic attack, labs were ordered and I apologized for taking up their time. The doctor thought I had an infection in my lungs and ordered an x-ray and labs. As he left the room he turned on his heel and asked “by chance are you on a birth control?” I quickly said yes and he explained what the d-dimer test.
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The d-dimer was ordered, my oxygen level was less than 50%, my heart was in sinus tachycardia and my blood pressure continued to climb. I, I was in rough shape. While on my way to x-ray the doctor shouted “where are you going with her? I canceled the x-ray.” I was feeling relieved and waited for him to tell me I had an infect and he was going to send me home. I didn’t get the news I wanted. With caring eyes he told me “the d-dimer came back glaringly positive we need to get you to CT ASAP. He quickly explained that the contrast die could prove deadly but the benefits out weighed the risk. I signed my name and into the scanner I went. They said it would take about 90 minutes for my results to come back.

I watched the clock and counted down the minutes. I could hear the phone ring, the doctor picked it up and said “shit! You have to be kidding, you are not!” Code blue was sounded and I heard a rush of feet come towards me. Within seconds every available hand was in he ER. He took my hand and said, “I am sorry AmandaJean you have a blood clot in your left lung that is blocking the main valve to your heart and your lung sacs have ruptured. Your body is not getting the oxygen it needs and you dear are going to be staying with us for a while.” My brain couldn’t comprehend how dire the situation was. My blood pressure went above 210, I told the nurse I felt woozy, one said it was just the pain meds, another looked at the monitors and said “the fuck it is, she is having a stroke,” he hit the panic button.

Clot busters were shot into my chest, thrombolytics and other medications were being pumped into both arms. I was alone, alone and fighting for my life. The ER doctor walked next to my bed as they were bringing me to the elevator bay. We stopped, he said AmandaJean do you know what’s down that hall? No I said. The morgue, I should be putting you on a slab instead of in a hospital bed. If you had been five minutes later your story would have been different, never ever forget that.
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It took a few days for the gravity of what I had survived to sink in. Friends came and visited me, my parents and than husband stood by my side. My life became a series of injections, INR checks, scans, nerotherapy sessions and doctor visits. I was alive and that is what mattered. Almost dying 5 days before your birthday steals your innocence and changes your perspective on life.

I didn’t just survived, I thrived. The ultimate gift was given to me, not many people get a second go around. I treasure every moment of every day, because I know that if I were five minutes late my story would have ended with my ashes in an urn. Survivors rarely talk about the guilt that they feel. I walk this earth with a scarlet letter glued to my head and people tell me that I shouldn’t have a bad day, because I survived the worst day possible.

Yet in the quiet moments I feel guilty that I survived. In the past five years I have said goodbye to more friends than one soul can handle. I survived only to watch my son slip away, I took a seat at Adam’s funeral, wrote a eulogy for Connor, only to follow-up a few years later with a eulogy for Charlie, said a tearful thank you to Dr. Delahaunty, and held my friend Jilliann’s hand as we said goodbye to Trinity. I have been surrounded by so much death and heart ache. I can’t make heads or tails out of who lives and who dies, God definitely has the upper hand on that one.
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Hands I’ve got two and my knees are worn from praying. My scars are healed, my body is somewhat back to normal, yet my emotional scars remain. Emotional wounds are he hardest wounds to heal. They slowly disappear with time. Anger was replaced with hope and that hope gave me the strength to make a difference. The guilt it is a reminder that four people had to die so I could be the one out of five who survived. I live each day of this crazy life for them, its the only thing I can do to honor those who went to soon. I vowed to spend my days advocating for those who no longer can and that they would be more than their deaths. Their stories deserve to be told. In one sheer moment of disaster I found my passion. I found that I had a voice and that I had the strength to stand up for myself. I signed my name on the dotted line and became a plaintiff in a product liability lawsuit against Merck.
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The Nuva Ring took a lot of things away from me and on the same coin it gave me a life that even I couldn’t have imagine for myself. It takes a lot of guts to put yourself out there and share the most vulnerable moments of your life. Sharing my journey allows me to educate the public about the dangerous side affects of hormonal contraceptive. Sharing my story has allowed me to shape the view points of politicians and to propel heart healthy policies forward. I owe a lot to the American Heart Association, they took me under their wings and gave me a platform. That platform has allowed me to grow and come into my own as a survivor. I am not ashamed to say I had a Pulmonary Embolism and Stroke, I am more than those events, I am more than a survivor, I am and will always be a small town girl who set out to change the world.
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The past five years have been a beautiful disaster and I am proud to claim it as my own. Because of quick action and research my life was saved. Every day the American Heart Association gives funds and encourages researches to tread unknown waters. Without the AHA we would not have CPR or advances in heart surgery, early stroke and heart attack detection. Research is why. Advocacy is why. Life is why. Second Chance is why. Without the AHA there would be no why in this world and we would have no hope for a heart healthy tomorrow.

I am incredibly thankful to my Woodwind’s care team, without them I never would have gotten to experience pregnancy followed by loss, then divorce, a little adventure followed by a whole lot of love and mostly without them I never would have gotten the chance to hold my niece. Without them my story would have ended at 26. Instead I got five beautiful borrowed years on this earth and I plan on borrowing a few more. Because life, its only just begun.common thread