"We can't help everyone; but everyone can help someone."

February 23rd again. You know what that means... Brainaversary Day!!

Some people have said to me, "Mel, it's been 6 years-- are you seriously still celebrating February 23rd?" And the answer I will proudly give after 6 years, after 10 years, after 30 years, is "Duh!" My braincapades were long and scary [most of the] times. They showed me how strong I am as a fighter and how strong of a support system I have. They taught me the power of hope and prayers. They taught me that while medicine is super advanced and seemingly all knowing, doctors can be wrong. They can make mistakes during surgeries. They can make mistakes in prognoses. They are just people.

It's important (and therapeutic) for me to talk about my braincapades because I never know who is listening. Over the last 6 years I know of 8 people who I have helped through advice, doctor referrals and/or just listening to someone cry about their fears of not recovering. I would love to see that number grow. I've learned about the workings of the brain; I've learned about medicine; I've learned about doctors and surgeons, who to use and who not to use... I've learned about organizations to help people find the right doctors and assist with costs to get to that doctor; I've learned about therapeutic techniques for recovery... The list goes on and on. If my experience can help even just 1 person, I will be happy. The fact that I have been able to help 8 people already blows my mind! I don't celebrate my brainaversary to get sympathy points-- quite frankly, there's nothing to feel sympathetic about... I celebrate because there is so much in the world to mourn, why not bring in a reason to celebrate once in a while? Celebrating a day for being alive and healthy doesn't hurt anyone, if anything, it just might connect me with someone who is struggling and I can help.

Every morning I wake up and say Modeh Ani (a prayer for being alive in the morning). As I say those 12 simple words I think back to February 25, 2012, the day when I tried to stand up for the first time after surgery and fell to the ground, unsure of what my life might be like moving forward. I think about the doctors telling me I will never walk without an assistive device. I think about how my mom had to hold me up next to a sink so that I could wash both of my hands together. I think about my physical therapists who gave me the most personalized therapies and helped me gain back all of the strength I had lost. I think about my neurologist celebrating every mini-milestone by my side. I think about the surgeons' faces when I walked into their office without a cane or a walker. And I close my eyes when I say the last word in the prayer, "Emunatecha" (loosely translated to: I have faith in G-d) and I know that today is going to be a great day!

Braink you all for letting me celebrate and celebrating alongside me!

xox