The Bad News

In case you were wondering why I started this fabulous Range Writing newsletter, but have been silent for a few months. Here's the bad news.

Last September I was listening to music and enjoying a beautiful drive through Irish Canyon on my way to the Meeker Classic Sheepdog Championship Trials when I got dizzy. I pulled off the road and sat for a few minutes until the vertigo went away before continuing on to have a great time at Meeker. That’s the first time I remember experiencing any symptoms.

By the time I flew to Flagstaff in January for the American Sheep Industry Association convention, I had lost most of my hearing in my left ear. I didn’t know it until one night when I was in bed in my hotel room and realized I couldn’t hear the sound on the television unless I laid on my side that kept my right ear up. I didn’t know it then, but my eyesight was also failing, as I took a bunch of photos that ended up very blurry. It was extremely embarrassing, and I stupidly thought it was my camera lens, not the person trying to focus the lens. I just figured that out today, several months after that event.

In mid-February, I came down with the same respiratory infection that many others did, and I started having regular bouts of vertigo. When Jim had his heart attack, I was still sick but drove him to the clinic. I wasn’t feeling well enough to drive to Idaho Falls the day the ambulance took him to Idaho, so I made the excuse that I needed to get things organized on the ranch before I joined him. I generally feel better in the mornings, so I drove over early the next day, in time for his procedure. I hung out drinking cough syrup, putting Visine into my eyes every few hours, and just tried to get us both through that ordeal so we could go home. It was such a blessing that the procedure went well, that he hadn’t sustained damage to his heart, and felt better almost immediately.

A few days after Jim got home, he had to have a follow-up appointment at the clinic, so I made an appointment as well, figuring I had an inner ear infection that was causing all these problems. I was told to try an over-the-counter nasal steroid to clear my nasal passages. By then I was struggling with headaches nearly every day.

A few weeks passed with no improvement, so I went to another medical clinic. They did a brain C-T scan that appeared normal. The clinic referred me to an Ear, Nose and Throat (ENT) doctor, and set me up with a steroid pack, which helped me feel better for about three days, but then the headaches and vertigo returned.

I made the appointment with an ENT in Jackson, but I also made an appointment with Dr. Glenn Burnett, an internist I know and trust. He’s sharp and thorough, and I appointed him as my primary care physician. He said I should go to the ENT who would probably order a brain MRI. On Monday, I went to the ENT. After talking to me for a few minutes, he said I needed the MRI immediately. Since this hadn’t been scheduled, the hospital had us wait a few hours and then enter through the emergency room so they could do it after hours. I happily jammed out to Godsmack, Disturbed and Seether while the MRI machine clanked away for half an hour and Jim drove us home in Monday night’s snowstorm.

I was home alone yesterday when Dr. Burnett called with the results. Multiple brain tumors and fluid causing pressure on my brain that threatens my optic nerve. The tumors appear to be benign, but I’ll need a spinal tap to know more. The tumors are causing the intercranial pressure and I need to be under the care of a neurosurgeon specializing in brain tumors ASAP.

I knew that Jim was on his way home with take-out from the Boulder Bar, and I texted Maggie asking for her and Cass to come out when they got off work, and to bring booze. I spent the afternoon dancing around to some of my favorite grunge, drinking whiskey, and being with people I love. Jim and I agreed that we would spend the day purposely not planning, knowing we’ve got lots of plans to make and plans to cancel.

We asked Cass to start reaching out to other family members to let them know what’s going on. I know this is going to be a shock, as we lost our dear brother Bill to brain cancer, but this is not the same thing. To my friend Dan, this is not the same as your precious Sami. At this point we don’t just know much. To my sister Robin, I’m sorry but I just can’t talk on the phone right now. Just know I love you and we’ll talk later on. The same to the Arambels, my second family. It’s easier to write this to let everyone know rather than to try to have all these terrible conversations on the phone.

Cowboy Tough

I should probably point out that sometimes being cowboy tough isn’t helpful. We think that by sheer willpower we can overcome damned near anything. But sometimes toughing it out only causes a delay in seeking needed treatment.

Over the winter, I fell down a few times, and smacked my elbow hard enough I went to town for an x-ray to be sure it wasn’t broken. (Of course I waited three weeks before going to the clinic.) I chalked up these little accidents to trudging around in snow and ice, typical winter mishaps.

I’ve blamed my sporadically failing eyesight on getting older. I thought the hearing loss, vertigo, and headaches were all probably caused by an ear infection. I could drum up an excuse for nearly any symptom but never connected them.

As a writer, what has been difficult has been some brain fog that causes me to lose my words. Some of you have noticed when I talk that I sometimes struggle to find the word I’m looking for (looking at you, Alison), or can’t remember a name. That happens to us all sometimes. Unfortunately, it’s happening more often for me, and it’s impacting my writing.

The Journey Ahead

So our new journey begins. It’s going to involve a hell of a lot of time way from the ranch in frustratingly complex medical systems and a hell of a lot of money. I’ve set up a GoFundMe account and am grateful to those able to help.

We’ll probably sell most of our sheep flock this fall, and we’d already started making plans to downsize and simplify our lives.

I’m going to be canceling the talks for which I’m currently scheduled, resigning from most of the boards and committees I’m serving on, and stepping away from some other entanglements and engagements. We’ve got our sheep shearing scheduled in a few weeks, so we’re sticking with that. While I feel like I’m letting down all my fellow wool growers, ya’ll know I won't go down without a fight, but I do need to step away for now.

I have two short-term goals outside of the medical treatment. If possible, I want to stay out in my camp with our animals and range lamb in a glorious piece of high desert steppe next month. I also want to finish the book I’m writing. It’s close to being done, but now I need to hurry. Today I’ll print off the draft so I can start line edits at the hospital, and I’ll start selecting the photos.

Now I’m going to order some wild pajamas off the internet, and I’m going to have friend Sarah set me up an appointment for a cute haircut so we can get this party started.

Love to you all,

Cat

P.S. This is my favorite recent photo of me. I’m standing in front of Jared Rogerson and his band, as snapped by WyoFile’s Mike Koshmrl last summer at the party I hosted the night I lost the primary election for a seat in the Wyoming Legislature. Mike, please forgive me for stealing (and cropping) your image. And thank you for the capture!