Atticus, Death, Regrets & Travel

Six years ago this month, Atticus and I were both gravely ill. I held off going to the hospital because I did not have insurance, and I wanted to stay and take care of Atticus. But one morning, I felt like I was going to die and finally called a friend.

At Memorial Hospital, a doctor told me I was in sepsis, and had I not come in, I wouldn’t have made it through the day. Unfortunately, our little hospital could not handle what I needed, and I was shipped to Maine Medical Center five days later.

I had suffered a stroke, my kidneys and heart failed, there was a diagnosis of anemia, lung disease, blood clots, pneumonia. I began dialysis, and those who knew me best were fearful I was at the end.