Application to run for Team Ritter: My Story
I’ve been a nurse for 18 years. I am fully aware that everyone faced with a horrible illness or disease has a story. I’ve even been witness to so many different stories---some with a great outcome, and unfortunately others, more devastating.
I lost my father shortly after he retired at the age of 62 from a ruptured abdominal aortic aneurysm. Eleven years later, my sister died at the age of 39 from an aortic rupture. Aneurysms and thoracic diseases do not care if a person is a grandfather, husband or father; a mother, wife, sister, or daughter; or even a famous actor, husband, father, or son, like John Ritter. Symptoms of back pain or discomfort may be not be taken seriously and health care providers, unless aware of familial medical history, may not treat appropriately or because of insurance constraints, may not order the proper tests. Thoracic disease is a silent killer that leaves loved ones lost and in despair.
My father passed away on July 27, 1997 from a ruptured abdominal aortic aneurysm. He was camping with my mom and their friends in Astoria, Oregon.
The weekend prior, he was at my house; he mowed my lawn and played with my 18-month old daughter. I received a phone call in the middle of the night from my mom. Their friends brought my dad to a small community hospital near their campsite after he spat up blood. The CT showed that he had
an aneurysm and was bleeding. The doctors knew he had to be transported to a larger medical facility with the capabilities to operate. He was in a
coastal city in Oregon and it was too windy for the helicopter to land. They finally decided to transport him via ambulance. He died on the tarmac during the transfer. I'm a critical care nurse-how did I miss this? I saw him frequently- I knew about aneurysms; the pathophysiology of aneurysms, the
classic symptoms. What could I have done to prevent this from happening? I was filled with so much sadness and guilt that I should have known better and done something to prevent this terrible loss.
Because I knew that there is a possible genetic link with aortic aneurysms, I made sure that my older sister and brother were aware of our risks and signs and symptoms to watch out for. My sister, Marianne was the most conscientious of the three of us regarding her health. Any pains she had, she would call me, and I would always urge her to go to the doctor. While she was pregnant with her daughter, she had aches and pains that she wasn’t sure if it was due to her pregnancy or a potential aneurysm. I remember her telling me after she saw her OB that he specifically told her that aneurysms are NOT genetic and she most likely was dealing with pains of pregnancy. I urged her to continue to monitor what she was feeling and explained that all of us need should not be complacent regarding the disease that killed our father.
Marianne was always very active and involved in the community where she lived. She was a Major in the US Army and served on active duty and later in the reserve component. She had a character of her that showed her professionalism, honor, and integrity. I was always awed at her ability to raise awareness of issues and become such an inspired leader wherever she lived. In college, she started an organization called GEO, Gonzaga Environmental Organization. She wanted to increase awareness of ways we can protect our environment. She was very passionate about causes and issues that she cared about.
In the fall of 2008, she was urged by friends and neighbors to run for a board member position in their community. On Veterans Day 2008, after giving a passionate speech for the position she was running for, she sat down and collapsed. She was rushed to the ER and was pronounced dead shortly after her arrival. Her autopsy revealed an aortic dissection. My 39-year old sister was gone.
I was beyond devastated. There are no words that can express the pain and agony of losing my sister, my confidant, my best friend. Why was this happening again? Why couldn’t I stop it? The next year and a half was a fog to me. I went through the motions of my life but never felt like I was living my life.
In the spring of 2010, a friend of mine asked me to run a 5K to support a good friend’s high school daughter with a Girl Scout project she had to do. It was called, “iRun for Ovarian Cancer”, in honor of a family member who had ovarian cancer. After the run, I was inspired to put on a race or something to raise awareness of aneurysms. I didn’t know where to start and everything I thought of seemed to pale in comparison to what I knew Marianne would have done, if she were involved. I was stuck…. The first glimmer of living was overshadowed with my insecurities of not being able to pull something like that off. That was her talent, not really mine. So I started running. I started running because she couldn’t. I started running because I could. I started running to find some peace for myself. I started running because I needed a place to go and feel alive again.
My dear, sweet friend Jacqui introduced me to the best running group the summer of 2010. I started training for my first half marathon. Jacqui’s amazing. I ran every single long run with her. She was my personal cheerleader. The Houston Chevron Marathon and Aramco Half marathon are done by lottery. I was lucky to get in, but Jacqui did not. When it got closer to race day, I started feeling anxious on how I’d be able to run without her. Out of the blue, she got a bib from someone who couldn’t run. I know the sharing of bibs is totally against the running gods out there… but I truly believe there was a higher being involved. The name on her bib was,“Marianne”. Jacqui had no idea the significance of the name… we became closer after my sister died. The last 5K of the race I felt bad. My legs were cramping, it was warm and humid. I wanted to be done with it all. Jacqui had the bib on low throughout the race- I never paid much attention to it. At one point, I looked over to her- she knew I was feeling bad so she was encouraging me and cheering me on… I saw my sister’s name on the bib and felt this warm sensation run through my body. I felt my sister cheer me on through Jacqui that last 3 miles. It was a “God” thing…I can’t explain it. The first time since my sister’s death, I felt like I was finally living. Since that first race, I’ve run 4 more half marathons and two marathons and various races in between. Running has changed my life.
I want to run for the John Ritter Foundation because aneurysms and thoracic conditions are such a significant part of who I am. I have a significant family history and after my sister passed, I started seeing a cardiologist. Unfortunately, due to insurance constraints and costs, my insurance company will not cover a CT scan to see if I may have an aneurysm. Instead, I get an annual ultrasound. It’s very frustrating to be proactive with my health and have insurance companies make the decisions over the physicians. Insurance companies need to be aware of diagnostic tools that can help prevent long hospitalizations and death caused from aneurysms. After losing both my father and sister, I want to be able to educate others and support research regarding aneurysms and thoracic disease. The genetic link with aneurysms is significant enough that those who have a family history should be aware of the risks. Physicians need to be aware of any evidence based research and data that indicate the genetic link to provide optimal care for their patients.
My sister’s obstetrician was not aware of the genetic link. I went into nursing knowing that I would care for those who are ill, but my focus has always been on promotion of health and wellness. Running for the John Ritter Foundation will allow me to do that. Since my father died, I felt like I should have done more to prevent his death. I do not want anyone to go through the devastation of losing a loved one like I have. Raising money and awareness for the John Ritter Foundation is a way for me to finally do something. Lastly, I want to run because I will be turning 40 this year. As I write this, I am 5 months away from my 40th birthday. Marianne passed away 5 months before she turned 40. I have always had a mental “hang-up” about not making it to my 40thbirthday. While my husband hates that I think that way; it’s hard to get it out of my mind. Running this race would be a huge way to celebrate the milestone of turning 40 for me.
I lost my father shortly after he retired at the age of 62 from a ruptured abdominal aortic aneurysm. Eleven years later, my sister died at the age of 39 from an aortic rupture. Aneurysms and thoracic diseases do not care if a person is a grandfather, husband or father; a mother, wife, sister, or daughter; or even a famous actor, husband, father, or son, like John Ritter. Symptoms of back pain or discomfort may be not be taken seriously and health care providers, unless aware of familial medical history, may not treat appropriately or because of insurance constraints, may not order the proper tests. Thoracic disease is a silent killer that leaves loved ones lost and in despair.
My father passed away on July 27, 1997 from a ruptured abdominal aortic aneurysm. He was camping with my mom and their friends in Astoria, Oregon.
The weekend prior, he was at my house; he mowed my lawn and played with my 18-month old daughter. I received a phone call in the middle of the night from my mom. Their friends brought my dad to a small community hospital near their campsite after he spat up blood. The CT showed that he had
an aneurysm and was bleeding. The doctors knew he had to be transported to a larger medical facility with the capabilities to operate. He was in a
coastal city in Oregon and it was too windy for the helicopter to land. They finally decided to transport him via ambulance. He died on the tarmac during the transfer. I'm a critical care nurse-how did I miss this? I saw him frequently- I knew about aneurysms; the pathophysiology of aneurysms, the
classic symptoms. What could I have done to prevent this from happening? I was filled with so much sadness and guilt that I should have known better and done something to prevent this terrible loss.
Because I knew that there is a possible genetic link with aortic aneurysms, I made sure that my older sister and brother were aware of our risks and signs and symptoms to watch out for. My sister, Marianne was the most conscientious of the three of us regarding her health. Any pains she had, she would call me, and I would always urge her to go to the doctor. While she was pregnant with her daughter, she had aches and pains that she wasn’t sure if it was due to her pregnancy or a potential aneurysm. I remember her telling me after she saw her OB that he specifically told her that aneurysms are NOT genetic and she most likely was dealing with pains of pregnancy. I urged her to continue to monitor what she was feeling and explained that all of us need should not be complacent regarding the disease that killed our father.
Marianne was always very active and involved in the community where she lived. She was a Major in the US Army and served on active duty and later in the reserve component. She had a character of her that showed her professionalism, honor, and integrity. I was always awed at her ability to raise awareness of issues and become such an inspired leader wherever she lived. In college, she started an organization called GEO, Gonzaga Environmental Organization. She wanted to increase awareness of ways we can protect our environment. She was very passionate about causes and issues that she cared about.
In the fall of 2008, she was urged by friends and neighbors to run for a board member position in their community. On Veterans Day 2008, after giving a passionate speech for the position she was running for, she sat down and collapsed. She was rushed to the ER and was pronounced dead shortly after her arrival. Her autopsy revealed an aortic dissection. My 39-year old sister was gone.
I was beyond devastated. There are no words that can express the pain and agony of losing my sister, my confidant, my best friend. Why was this happening again? Why couldn’t I stop it? The next year and a half was a fog to me. I went through the motions of my life but never felt like I was living my life.
In the spring of 2010, a friend of mine asked me to run a 5K to support a good friend’s high school daughter with a Girl Scout project she had to do. It was called, “iRun for Ovarian Cancer”, in honor of a family member who had ovarian cancer. After the run, I was inspired to put on a race or something to raise awareness of aneurysms. I didn’t know where to start and everything I thought of seemed to pale in comparison to what I knew Marianne would have done, if she were involved. I was stuck…. The first glimmer of living was overshadowed with my insecurities of not being able to pull something like that off. That was her talent, not really mine. So I started running. I started running because she couldn’t. I started running because I could. I started running to find some peace for myself. I started running because I needed a place to go and feel alive again.
My dear, sweet friend Jacqui introduced me to the best running group the summer of 2010. I started training for my first half marathon. Jacqui’s amazing. I ran every single long run with her. She was my personal cheerleader. The Houston Chevron Marathon and Aramco Half marathon are done by lottery. I was lucky to get in, but Jacqui did not. When it got closer to race day, I started feeling anxious on how I’d be able to run without her. Out of the blue, she got a bib from someone who couldn’t run. I know the sharing of bibs is totally against the running gods out there… but I truly believe there was a higher being involved. The name on her bib was,“Marianne”. Jacqui had no idea the significance of the name… we became closer after my sister died. The last 5K of the race I felt bad. My legs were cramping, it was warm and humid. I wanted to be done with it all. Jacqui had the bib on low throughout the race- I never paid much attention to it. At one point, I looked over to her- she knew I was feeling bad so she was encouraging me and cheering me on… I saw my sister’s name on the bib and felt this warm sensation run through my body. I felt my sister cheer me on through Jacqui that last 3 miles. It was a “God” thing…I can’t explain it. The first time since my sister’s death, I felt like I was finally living. Since that first race, I’ve run 4 more half marathons and two marathons and various races in between. Running has changed my life.
I want to run for the John Ritter Foundation because aneurysms and thoracic conditions are such a significant part of who I am. I have a significant family history and after my sister passed, I started seeing a cardiologist. Unfortunately, due to insurance constraints and costs, my insurance company will not cover a CT scan to see if I may have an aneurysm. Instead, I get an annual ultrasound. It’s very frustrating to be proactive with my health and have insurance companies make the decisions over the physicians. Insurance companies need to be aware of diagnostic tools that can help prevent long hospitalizations and death caused from aneurysms. After losing both my father and sister, I want to be able to educate others and support research regarding aneurysms and thoracic disease. The genetic link with aneurysms is significant enough that those who have a family history should be aware of the risks. Physicians need to be aware of any evidence based research and data that indicate the genetic link to provide optimal care for their patients.
My sister’s obstetrician was not aware of the genetic link. I went into nursing knowing that I would care for those who are ill, but my focus has always been on promotion of health and wellness. Running for the John Ritter Foundation will allow me to do that. Since my father died, I felt like I should have done more to prevent his death. I do not want anyone to go through the devastation of losing a loved one like I have. Raising money and awareness for the John Ritter Foundation is a way for me to finally do something. Lastly, I want to run because I will be turning 40 this year. As I write this, I am 5 months away from my 40th birthday. Marianne passed away 5 months before she turned 40. I have always had a mental “hang-up” about not making it to my 40thbirthday. While my husband hates that I think that way; it’s hard to get it out of my mind. Running this race would be a huge way to celebrate the milestone of turning 40 for me.