How bee well wishes came to be

I’ve always heard you were tired when you are pregnant but whew! I kept waiting for the second trimester “burst of energy” but it never came. About 8 months into it, I woke up and could only see double. We knew something wasn’t right. A quick call to a neurologist landed me an emergency MRI.

I quote the neurologist. “Well, I have good news, you do not have an aneurysm, but you do have a brain tumor.” It was the worst good news we have ever heard.

It was January 31st, 2007.

The tumor was a benign Menigioma. If you know anything about tumors, it’s a “good” kind to have. However, it happened to be located at my brain stem and wrapped around nerves 1-12. Nerves that control things like eyesight, swallowing, speaking, hearing, facial muscles, tongue control, and necessary things like that. Not a good place to have it.

We could do nothing until the baby was born. No pain medicine, nothing. I could only take steroids to retard the growth of the tumor, which also helped speed lung development of the baby. While we waited for her to decide to enter the world, we met several people who all had personal or family dealings with brain tumors. Which was odd.

But this was divine: We met SIX people who did not know each other who all recommended the SAME surgeon. Dr. Alan Friedman at DUKE. We called. He called back that day. Yes, “he” as in the surgeon himself. 7PM on his way home from work. We knew he was our man. Now we just had to wait for the birth.

Thankfully, the baby decided to come six weeks early. It was a pretty scary day. I remember this: The surgeon’s knife on my stomach as the anesthesiologist held my hand and counted down from 3. They had to get her out before the anesthesia reached her. They did a fantastic job. Her name is Elizabeth.

It was February 13, 2007.

After sweet, sweet Elizabeth was born, I had to wait another six weeks for my body to recover from the C-section and be strong enough for the very tricky brain surgery. The surgery was scheduled for 6 hours and a specialist in skull-based brain tumors was called in to work alongside Dr. Friedman. The surgery lasted 8 hours.

It was April 12th, 2007.

In the months that followed, I had to relearn a lot of things. I could not swallow, talk, walk very well, see out of my right eye, or hold Elizabeth. Thankfully, my mother moved in with us, and the rest of our family was just as close.

For the whole 8-month of recovery, gifts of food and flowers came almost daily. The irony was, my husband is so allergic to flowers that we had to leave them all on our porch. I had a feeding tube so I could not enjoy the edible goodies. The one gift I got that I could really use was a pair of pajamas. And those came from a friend who was in a wheelchair from suffering an aneurysm. It was useful, it was thoughtful and I think of her every time I wear them. And I’m still wearing them.

During that time, I thought of all the gifts I had sent people who had been in a similar situation. I was struck by the intense emotion that people feel of wanting to send their support, yet, the options to show that support were sorely lacking in the usefulness department. The choices were food or flowers. Having lots of downtime, I researched gifts online. There wasn’t anything I found that showed a true understanding of a recovery situation. So, my prince of a husband, Martin and I decided to fill that void.

Hopefully, we’ve answered the question of what to send someone who is sick or going to be at home a while or needs cheering up. Bee well wishes are gifts of comfort people can really use that will stay with them, just like your thoughts do. It’s what you really want to send--your best wishes. Support. And, really, love.

That was 2007.

bee well wishes, LLC was launched close to the one-year anniversary of my surgery and Elizabeth’s birth. What a difference a year makes!