S3 Episode 3:

I have been to more funerals than weddings. I have written more eulogies than I have maid of honor speeches. I have said see you later more times than I care to count. It seems this life I’m living is riddle with loss on all sides of the line.

That loss hits especially hard when the death was caused by the very thing you survived. You know deep in your heart that person would gladly take your seat and have a chance at a brighter day. But here you are, living in the aftermath of survival. Surviving is the easy part, living out that second chance is where it gets messy.

I have stared up at the sky, no let me correct myself…. I have screamed up at the sky “why did you save me and not him or her? Was their life not important!? Were they not worthy in your eyes!?” My screams are only met with frustrated silence. Fate she never answers, she holds a tight grip on her book of secrets. One thing I do know is on October 22, 2009 my life was slipping away from me and The universe whispered “not today child, not today.” And I was given a second chance at this thing we call life.

A second chance to live out loud. To chase my dreams. A chance to take myself back. When I got out of the hospital I knew things had to change because the course I was going down wasn’t meant to be my path. I was a hot mess, I wasn’t living, I was merely existing. Add in a still birth, an abusive marriage, a divorce and a whole host of other things for good measure and you will see that the universe showed me no favors.

The universe showed me no favors. My second chance at life, this borrowed time I’m living wasn’t earned easily. I fought hard for it and have the scars to prove it. Surviving is the easy part, living is where it gets hard. Hard as in standing at the funeral of someone your age, wondering “why Adam? Wasn’t he worthy of a second chance?” Adam was the first tick mark in the friend’s death column. A column that grew faster than I would have liked. In the past 12 years I have said more see you later’s than hellos.

I have watched people die from the very thing I survived. Sitting at the funeral for someone who died of a pulmonary embolism is a fucking hard pill to swallow. Strokes, strokes are a whole other level of guilt. Seeing someone go through the aftermath of a stroke, knowing their outcome could have been different if they had gotten care in time is a suffocating silence. Hearing that someone passed due to stroke complications is a deafening pain that only survivors can understand. Their deaths didn’t have to be, we have science and research that saved my life and thousands of others. Yet somehow the universe didn’t whisper “not today.” Instead they were called home, called home.

For as long as I live I will never understand why the universe chose me to save that day. Out of all the people who needed a second chance the universe breathed life into my soul allowing me to live on borrowed time. These years I’m living are not mine to live, it’s stolen time, stolen time from those who didn’t get a second chance. Each day I live, I live for those who didn’t get the option. The option for a second go around. I carry their deaths in my heart, it’s my burden to carry.

I made a choice that day, a choice to make a difference. And a difference I did make. It was my vow that no one would ever experience my worst day possible. A vow I’ve failed to keep, yet I still keep on trying. Research and early intervention can and will continue to save lives. Clot busters and the stroke systems of care will guarantee better outcomes for stroke patients. Awareness will help folks spot the signs and symptoms of blood clots before they reach the lungs and brain. Education on the deadly side effects of hormonal contraceptives, will prevent another woman from experiencing my worst day possible. My survivor’s guilt has turned into my passion and I will not rest until there are none.

I end this with a story. After my divorce I reconnected with my mentor from college, Gary who sadly lost the battle in May 2021. Over the years I did a lot of ugly crying on his deck and at Wisconsin point, yes I’ll admit Pattison Park too. Pretty much the whole south shore is full of my tears. Gary once said to me “the big lake can heal kid. Go sit by her and let the energy wash over you.” I asked him once “do you think I will ever find out why I was saved?” He looked at me and said “Kid, no I don’t think you will ever find that out. But what I do think is, the universe she wasn’t done with you yet. She knew you had more work to do and that it was necessary that you complete whatever work it is, so you were given a second chance. Kicker is we don’t know how long that chance is, only the universe knows.” Gary was right, we don’t know how long our lives will be or when our work is considered done. His death in my eyes was premature, because he had so much more to give to this world. And knowing he died from the very thing I survived cuts a little deeper.

S3 Episode 2:

A part of me wants to be mad at the first three fertility clinics I went to. Like someone along the way should have picked up on the fact that I might possibly have endometriosis plus a side of adenomyosis. Yet no one did and so they shoved me into their one size fits all protocol box. In which in their defense my numbers always looked great so their one size fits all approach worked.

It worked until it didn’t. In Iowa I cycled two times and both were canceled prior to our retrieval date. Dr. Young’s last words to me were “if anyone can get you pregnant, it’s Mayo.” His words soaked into me like water to a sponge. Yet I never picked up the phone to make an appointment with Mayo. Instead we explored our options such as foster to adopt and donor embryos.

By the fall of 2019 I had my heart set on donor embryos. I was ok with carrying someone else’s genetic material to term and calling that baby my own. But my heart she still whispered “let’s try one last time. One last time.” My gut gave me the courage to call Mayo for a consult. And on an icy February morning I drove down to Rochester and never looked back.

Mayo takes a team approach to infertility treatments and therefore you need enough of the team to believe in your case in order to proceed. The day of my consult the majority of the team was at a conference and I wouldn’t find out if I was accepted until I got back from my cruise. We did everything on the cruise to keep my mind of Mayo and it worked. Sherri and I had a blast aboard the Carnival Victory. And we soaked in the sites of Key West and Cozumel. It was a trip that I will always treasure. 

When I got back the Doc from Mayo called me early Monday morning to tell me that I had been accepted. As fate would have it the university of Iowa called a couple hours later to tell me that we were next on the donor embryo list. That night jay and I weighed the pros and cons. We prayed and my gut told me that Mayo was the answer. 

Enter Covid and all of our appointments got postponed. Which was fine by me, people needed the PPE and doctors more than I did. In May I had a pelvic MRI done and was at that time diagnosed with endometriosis and adenomyosis. Dr. Khan could also see plain as day my complicated anatomy on the screen. He explained that we could do surgery now or wait. Wait because if my ovaries had to be cut open I’d loose what little egg reserve I had left. 

I chose to wait. In July we did one last Hail Mary retrieval cycle and ended up with two high grade embryos. Which I am still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I have two embryos in the freezer. The team at Mayo was just as excited as we were and they were so glad that we were able to freeze embryos. 

Anyways back to the endo, I had my surgical consult at the end of August. During my consult Dr. Khan was once again very thorough and he explained everything to me. He laid out the options and the plan and like before he gave me choices. Hard choices like “if your Fallopian tubes are diseased is it ok for me to remove them? If removed you will be infertile.” Well according to medicine I am already infertile so I said yes to that option. I walked out of his office knowing that we had a solid plan and that one day soon my body would feel so much better.

Surgery day came sooner then I thought it would. The date it just sneaks up on you and before you know it you are in the shower with antibacterial soap that makes your skin itch. My surgery was delayed by 6 hours due to the case prior to me needing more time. I was fine up until hour 5, my hunger and thirst set in and I’d do anything for water. Thankfully a nurse took pity on me and gave me a little bit of water. Soon it was my turn to go down to pre-op. Where when I saw Dr.Khan I asked “did you forget about me!?” He said “how could I forget about you AJ. You are one of a kind.” He once again went over the plan and even the changes he made. He decided it was best to leave the adenomyosis alone because cutting it out of my uterus could cause more harm than good. 

Five some odd hours later I was backup stairs in recovery. I do want to add that the post op recovery unit closed at 9PM. Two nurses whose names I did not catch stayed late so I could go home to my own bed. The nurses I had were incredible. They made sure I was able to walk on my own. One nurse helped me get dressed and made sure we had a barf buffet cup (it’s a bucket filled with wipes and Kleenex) to go home with. The nurses wheeled me down to the pickup zone and waited for Jay to bring the car over. On our way down I kept apologizing to them and they both looked at me and told me it was ok. “This is our job. We love our job. We’ll go home tonight and do the exact same thing again tomorrow.” They both gave me a hug and helped me into car and we waved goodbye as we drove off. 

There is something about a Mayo Clinic nurse. They truly have a servants heart and away with people. I was always amazed by my Dad’s nursing staff and now to experience it on my own, he’s right when he says “they are the best of the best.” It’s true they are and I am so thankful for the care I received from my recovery nurses. 

Rochester is 75 bumpy miles from Burnsville. And I felt every bump HWY 52 had and I’d never been happier to turn into our little street. We got home after midnight and that first night was pretty rough. French fries were a bad idea…..(I’ll leave that for your imagination). But butter toast saved my tummy along with some oxycodone and a little bit of sleep. You don’t realize how much you use your core and pelvic muscles until they are cut open. 

Speaking of cutting, Dr. Khan diagnosed me with stage IV endometriosis and an ASRM score of 76, which in normal human terms means, really bad. He told Jay I had one of the worse cases he’s ever seen. Which is strange because I never showed symptoms, my endometriosis was the silent yet naughty kind. He removed endo from my pelvic cavity, abdominal cavity, colon, rectum, ligaments, ovaries, uterus, and a whole lot of other spots too. It’s crazy to me how much damage was done to my body every month and that this had gone undetected for years.

When I think back to the first three clinics, two out of the three saw dollar signs. Especially CCRM Minneapolis, Dr. B claimed to be an expert, yet she missed a lot of fucking red flags. And her arrogance didn’t allow her to seek outside advice on my case. Her kicking me out of the clinic lead me to Iowa. In Iowa Dr. Young did his best to help me, but at the end of the day I was to complicated for him. And I respect his walking away from my case and sending me off to Mayo. 

If it weren’t for Dr. Young’s words I’d never would have gone to Mayo. Mayo’s tag line is “when you are ready for answers.” It’s perfect, I was ready for answers and I got answers and explanations to everything I’ve gone through in the past five years. One MRI sealed my fate and now knock on wood I will be living endo free for a long ass time.

We transferred our only two embryos in February and April 2021, both transfers resulted in a negative beta. We found out after the fact that our care plan was followed and well it’s Mayo, so there is nothing we could do but cut our losses and run. We did a lot of soul searching and made the decision to move forward with Donor Eggs out at a clinic in New York. Twenty something year old eggs are a better chance than my dusty 39 year old eggs. With a little luck and a lot of faith by this time next year we should either have or be pregnant with our rainbow baby. Yes I’ll be a first time mom to an earth side child at 40, and I am so perfectly ok with that. Old moms rock!

The lesson I learned in all of this is…. listen to your body. Do not give up on her and keep searching until you find a doctor that will really listen to you and not throw you into the one size fits all box. You are unique and you deserve the very best care. Everyone deserves that. So if you feel you might have endo, go talk to your doctor. And if your doctor doesn’t listen go find one who will. Because living with endometriosis shouldn’t be a death sentence, it should be a piece of your story.

S3 Episode 1:

I love everything about fall except for two things…… thing 1, those stupid plastic spider rings that come in the fake cobweb packages and thing 2, pumpkin spice EVERYTHING! Friends I firmly believe that pumpkins are meant for carving and not eating. Yet here we are, we live in a world where everything and anything right down to pumpkin spice scented cat litter exists. Starbucks, Caribou, basically all coffee shops in America have been taken over by the crap. No, no I do not want to try a white pumpkin spice mocha latte thing, I want my regular tastes like actual coffee crafted press! No I do not want a pumpkin spice bratwurst nor do I want a pumpkin spice cookie. Hell, I even saw pumpkin spice cheddar cheese…. Cheese is good on its own, why are you messing with it and throwing in pumpkin spice… why? Why do we need that?

I digress, pumpkin spice is like a hot button for me. I don’t understand it, I don’t like it and I’m tired of it taking over fall. Can we go back to witches, monsters, and ghosts!? It’s spooky season and not basic Instagram suburban bitch holding a pumpkin spice latte while wearing boots and a flannel shirt season. I say the last part with love, don’t come after me in the comments.

Anyways back to the pumpkins the other day I was at Hooby Looby and I noticed an entire isle, both sides filled to the brim with fake pumpkins. This isle made me question my belief in humanity, why! Why do we need leopard print pumpkins? Why do we need them, followed by Buffalo plaid pumpkins and gasp polka dot pumpkins. Whatever happened to all of the realistic fake pumpkins? I want a fake realistic pumpkin on my doorstep and not something that looks like I skinned a leopard for it’s fur. Also don’t get me started on the Indian figurines that I spied at Hooby Looby….. which I may or may not have set in the backs of the little red metal trucks that were on display and positioned them to look like they were getting ready to ram the pilgrims…… Yes I have feelings, big feelings about fake pumpkins and Indian figurine. It’s what I do with those feelings that matters. I suppress those feelings while messing with store displays.

Enough Hooby Looby! This is spooky season, it’s the one time of year that is acceptable to scream like a child while going through a haunted house. Or if you are like me you hyper ventilate and get led out the side door. Yes, yes sometimes I get scared and hyper ventilate, it’s a thing, it happens. Anyways if you want a good time, take me to a haunted house…… chances are you will learn about the secret escape exits. And our early escape usually leads to hot fresh mini doughnuts. Haunted hayrides, I’m good with those. I promise I do not try to jump off them and only get mildly scared. Then again depending on how good it is you might have bruises on your arm from me clinging to you.

You could also be brave during spooky season and go to a real haunted house. As in a real house that is haunted by ghosts or maybe even a haunted cemetery. Haunted bars count too and bonus if they have a drink named after said ghost. I have done this with friends numerous times time over the years and usually I’m the one who is not running away screaming. Fake haunted houses mess with me, real haunted houses leave me as the collected one. I am also the one that likes to scare people in said real haunted houses. I do however draw the line at grave yards, not because I am afraid, but because of the high chance you might trip over a stone and hurt yourself. Remember safety first friends, broken ankles are not spooky nor are they fun.

I should also add that I ear an absurd amount of candy corn during spooky season along with apples, apple pie, apples truffle, and hard cider. I am a fall baby whose never had a normal birthday cake. All of my cakes have been Halloween themed, as well as my parties when I was little. October 27th was the practice day to try out your costume at my party before the big day, that is if you were invited. Don’t worry I pretty much invited everyone to my party. But now as I’m older I enjoy dinners with my family over the hoopla of a shindig. I find solace in the crisp fall air as I soak in every changing color before the snow flies. Spooky season will always be my season and pumpkin spice can be damned!

Season 3

🚨New Podcast 🚨

For thousands of years wisdom has been handed down to generation after generation through the art of story telling. The Ojibway are no stranger to stories and legends. Stories carry our beliefs, our history, and warnings of what not to do in this life. My dear friend Gary Johnson always had a story and he based it on the way you plopped down on the chair in front of him. In his stories he passed on lessons, humor, and guidance that still steers me to this day.

Gary was one in a million and how he memorized hundreds of oral stories is a feat only known to him. His life was cut far to short as he was called home in May 2021. Oral traditions are the life blood of our community and that blood will only flow if we speak the words that came before us. Gary impacted the lives of thousands and his well lived life deserves to be honored. His words, should continue to flow, and they will do just that.

Johnson’s Tales is my brand new podcast. Where I will pass on Gary’s stories as they were told to me. Word for word, thankfully Gary wrote some of them down and I cannot wait to share them with all of you. Look for the first tale in October 2021.

It’s the most wonderful time

S2 Episode 14: County fair

Listen NOW on Apple Podcast

Friends August is knocking on our door and you know what that means…… It’s County Fair time! I can hear the sizzle of the deep fryers, the laughter from the carnival, and the cheers from the grand stand. Are you a tractor pull fan? Maybe the derby is more your speed or do you like to stroll through the home arts building? And for the love of everything holy, hot dish, and target….Don’t for get to take a moment to pet a chicken! Pull up a seat, pour yourself a beverage, and settle in as I share which county fairs are my favorite.

Shit! Summer is almost over

S2 Episode 12: Half Baked Summer

Listen NOW on Apple Podcast

Hey friends! Can you believe we are already half way through the month of July? Where the heck did the first half of summer 2021 go!? If you blink fall will be knocking on our door before we know it. I finally found the swimsuit that dreams are made of. Got brave and bought a SUP, hit a Boulder with my Prius, harnessed my inner Blanch at cardio bay, and why yes, our cabin project is still going strong! I’ve been having a blast and I am not ready for hot girl summer to be over. So pour yourself a glass, pull up a comfy chair and listen in to my hot girl summer antics.

Wisconsin Dells

S2 Episode 11: Wisconsin Dells

Listen Now on Apple Podcast

Hey friends! Hope you all had a good weekend! I spent my weekend in the beautiful Wisconsin Dells and I have some tips for your next vacation. Yes, the Dells is considered the tourist trap of Wisconsin, but if you have a little intel you can avoid the gimmicks and put towards the good stuff. Mount Olympus is evil, mom & pop motels are still my favorite and yes we have to talk about cheese, along with my favorite WI Dell restaurants. So pull up a comfy chair, pour yourself a beverage and listen in.

Hey There!

S2 Episode 7: Meet Your MN BFF

Listen NOW on Apple Podcast

Hey friend! I realized that I haven’t properly introduced myself yet…. that was so impolite of me! Hi I’m AmandaJean, but you can call me AJ. I hail from the land of 10,000 lakes, have a weird obsession with dinosaurs, sour gummy candy, and PYREX. I’ve been through a lot of shit and sharing my stories the good and the bad ones helps me heal. So get out of the heat, pull up a chair, poor a beverage and listen in to the story of me.