The Other Four-Letter Word: Patti’S Story

By Patti Palamidessi

The Other Four-Letter Word is an inspiring true story of one womans incredible journey in the game of life. From childhood, Patricias health has been quite the curve ball. All it took was for her to find her swing and follow through. Heart tugging, motivating, and victorious, this book is a home run. Steve Sax, writer, motivational speaker, and professional baseball player

Life through Pattione of the most tortuous health curves one could ever imagine. From epilepsy through a litany of other serious challenges to her body and mind she held the course. This book is about a woman calling on her innate quality, character, and soul to survive. And then conquer! Patti shares with an intense openness that gives the readers a highly personal insight in which others facing life challenges can find immense value. As difficult as it often is in this book to witness what Patti endured the overriding impact is a story as warm and nurturing as a serving of her restaurants famous ravioli. Stan Atkinson, Sacramento Channel 3 (NBC), news anchor

Now, now, I know what four-letter words you are thinking ofmy favorite words too! But my story is about a stronger four-letter word that can control all of our thoughts. This word cultivated and controlled a majority of my life. My goal is for you to learn how to be in charge of this four-letter word, believe in the goals of your life, and find happiness within yourself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Feb 19, 2016
• ISBN: 9781504347297

Patti Palamidessi

Patti is a public speaker on a broad range of health care issues, with special emphasis on epilepsy. She is actively involved in fundraising for a variety of health issues with special attention to children. She is a third-generation co-owner of the venerable Club Pheasant restaurant in West Sacramento, California. Community oriented, Patti is an active Rotarian. With her love of travel, she enjoys organizing and leading trips to Europe.

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Copyright © 2016 Jacquie Yo.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-5043-4728-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5043-4730-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5043-4729-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015920682

Balboa Press rev. date: 03/05/2016

Contents

Acknowledgments

Introduction

1 Adolescent Years: Is This Normal?

2 Learning Life: I Thought This Was Normal

3 Determination: Nothing Is Going to Stop Me

4 Episodes: Every Day Was a Challenge

5 Surgeries: Scared as Hell

6 Recovery: My Reset Button

7 Fear: The Invisible Condition

8 Fiji: Power over Fear

A Note to My Readers: Love Yourself First

Daily Thoughts

A search for hope

And the discovery of courage

Signed.jpg

This book is

dedicated to Perry and Uncle Danny for continued guidance through my journey.

To my parents, thank you for the years of absolute love, encouragement, and belief in me.

Thank you to my little brother Danny, who taught me that God would not give us anything we cannot bear.

A portion of the proceeds from the sales of this book will be donated to Epilepsy Foundation.

Acknowledgments

I would like to extend my gratitude to the following friends for their help in developing my dream, which is my book.

Thank you to the following:

Steve DaPrato, Steve has been a mentor for me who provided me with key insights of believing in myself.

Mike Hill, who guided me with his knowledge of being an author.

Marc Hawkins for the resolution of my photo.

Thank you to Balboa Press, Jacquie Yo, and Kathy Thomas. Their guidance is greatly appreciated.

Now, talk about guidance! A particular acknowledgment and thank you to my neurologists and surgeon. Their kindness and knowledge helped to provide the confidence I needed to overcome these challenges. Without them, I would not be where I am today.

Introduction

Since everything is a reflection of our minds, everything can be changed in our minds.

—Buddha

Before I begin sharing my life’s journey with you, I feel it is wise to give an understanding of why and what you will endure within these pages. This year I have reached sixty years of life, and everything that I have always dreamed of doing, including writing this book, has come to fruition. I have prepared myself for many years to share my story; it was not an easy decision to make. I went back and forth with the idea, wondering whether it would benefit another, whether it could change another’s life, or even whether I was ready to be intimate and vulnerable about my condition. I now live a life that I truly love, and with that, my decision was clear. This past year, I conquered yet another milestone and conducted my second tour of Italy with new travel companions and a few friends. It was my lifelong dream to travel as much as I could, but there were a few snags in my cloth, and those snags took a while to mend.

I grew up like any typical child. I could not tell you then that what I physically encountered was unusual. At two years old, I had sort of an ill discomfort in my stomach that I thought to be normal. At sixteen, my normal was confirmed to be abnormal due to a health condition I never even knew I had. After processing this new information, learning the causes, and learning how to live life with this condition, I went into my twenties with my head held high. I learned so much about myself—mind, body, and personal capabilities—and I thought I could surely conquer anything and everything that came my way. However, when I reached my mid-thirties, I had become dominated by my own mind, which took control of my every action, thought, and emotion. At thirty-eight years old, my reset button was pushed. Everything I had ever learned went right out the window. My childhood memories, my accomplishments, my ability to read and write, the simplest things I had been taught throughout my school years—all were gone. I could not tell you the names my brothers, write, or even sign my own name on a check. Your brain is a very delicate instrument; its power is beyond miraculous, and individual strength is more robust than you could ever imagine.

I hold the words in this book to be very dear and affirming. I have found that the potential that lives inside every one of us can be used to conquer the most unpleasant of emotions, including fear of one’s own self. My hope is that you will learn from my experiences and testimony, applying what you read here to your life and whatever obstacles you might encounter. Let us begin.

1

Adolescent Years: Is This Normal?

The greatest discovery you will ever make, is the potential of your own mind.

—Jose Silva

At a young age, I was full of energy and vigor. Being the only girl out of five children, I was somewhat of a tomboy. In a household full of young males, there was always something to learn from my siblings: strength, resilience, courage, and of course, the world of sports. My brothers and I played just as hard and long as any household of children.

The city I grew up in was a little shy of the river with more country views than cityscapes. There was not a whole lot for us kids to do, so we let our imaginations run wild, conjuring up the most outlandish stories and games we could think of. One time, I was invited to a house down the street, where the only other girls on the block lived, to play dolls. Walking into the house, I was greeted with open arms. I sat down to partake in the dressing and fixing up of dollies and instantly wished I was outside playing with the boys. My mother tells me that when I was given my first Barbie doll, I ripped the head off. So long, dolls. Bring on the roughhousing. Or better yet, where is my mitt?

Baseball was my family’s favorite. My brothers and I would gather all the kids from the neighborhood and have a full-on series. Following the example of my brothers, I played with a winning heart, loving my position as shortstop. But it did not stop there. I was also Pepper Gomez when it came time to tag-team wrestle with my brothers. Heck, who would not want to play the role of the reigning champion? At this time, around the age of seven, I began to take more note of that feeling in my tummy, not a rumble or something too painful, but sort of a quick stomachache. The moments did not last long, so I ignored them. After all, I was a kid; I never let anything stop me.

Let me take you back a bit further. When I was two years old, sleeping peacefully, tucked deep within my covers, my father heard unusual noises coming from my room. Upon entering, he witnessed me suffering from body convulsions, shaking rapidly and then becoming completely calm. In shock, he called out to my mother. Earlier that evening, my mother had noticed I was running a fever. After a dose of Children’s Tylenol and a cold rag on my forehead to help break the fever, I was put to bed to rest. A few hours later, when the rest of the house was in slumber, I began to surrender to a seizure. My parents quickly gathered me in their arms, and off to the emergency room we went. Of course, I do not remember this incident, but my mother tells me Dr. Boscoe, our family doctor, stayed by my side the entire visit, staring at me with glasses held up by the tip of his nose. When I arrived, I was still running a fever above 102. After x-rays and medically appropriate tests, I was diagnosed with pneumonia. The seizure had been caused by the very high temperature I was running for a child my age, also known as a fever seizure. Once I held a stable temperature, I was sent home with antibiotics, and all would be—or should have been—well.

As I continued into my younger years of life, I was told that there were times when I would stop and stare out the windows, seemingly daydreaming, and then would come to and return to whatever I so happened to be doing at that given time. I do not remember these daydreaming trips—perhaps my childlike imagination was giving me visions, or maybe these lapses of time were something more significant. As children, we tend to daydream. We stare aimlessly out windows, wishing we could meander around outside, discover, and adventure to our great unknowns. It was not unusual, my daydreaming. My mother also began to notice a slight clicking of my tongue against the roof of my mouth. She figured this was just something children did—make funny noises. As children, we cannot fully communicate how we feel in the best manner, but I had begun to complain of the aforementioned stomach discomfort around the same time the clicking started. As I held my stomach, seemly out of it or sick, Mom tried soothing me. After this feeling, I would sleep for about an hour or so, I would get up and be full of energy again. My Mom says that these recurring feelings in my stomach became more apparent around the age of three and four. My parents called our family doctor for some answers, and he asked to bring me in for a checkup. I was scheduled for a Lower G.I. series, but all the results came back negative. As these episodes of discomfort continued, and nothing helped, she worried, not knowing what the cause was or where it was stemming from. So like any other night, she prayed, this time for relief for me and understanding for her

My family was, and still is, devout Catholics. I vividly remember visiting Mama and Papa’s house, my grandparents on my mother’s side, out in the little country town of Clarksburg. Every night before our bedtime, my cousin, my brothers, and I had to say our prayers by reciting the rosary. If my uncles were home, they would make faces at us while saying the rosary. If we made a peep of laughter, Mama would separate us. This, she thought, would stop us from bothering one another so that we could fully concentrate on our prayers. Always, we would end up facing different corners of the living room, heads up, eyes closed, hands grasping our rosaries, reciting our prayers loud enough for Mama to hear.

We visited Mama and Papa quite often, and one of those days was a warm, sunny Saturday when Mother drove us past the tomato fields and down the oak tree–lined roads to visit our grandparents. That afternoon we played in just about every dirt-filled inch of land we could find, and then lunch was served, and our visit started coming to an end. Although our day had been full, I was still not ready to go home yet. I asked Mom if my brothers and I could spend the night, and it was agreed that we would. I was excited to stay; I sure did love spending the night with Mama and Papa. But this time, as my mother drove off in her yellow Galaxie sedan, I felt weak and fearful, though I didn’t know why. That feeling in my stomach arose, and I started to slip into a daze. I never made a peep to anyone about it, and as I watched Mom drive away, I prayed that the feeling would pass. This was not the first time I was going to stay the night, nor would it be the last, but that feeling in my stomach was disturbing me again. Right then, I wished for my mom to come back. Not more than ten minutes later, as I stared out the window, I saw the sedan driving back up the gravel road. I thought, How did she know I wanted her to come back? My mom gathered my belongings, and into the car we went; my brothers and cousin Sandy stayed. Mom tells me to this very day that she felt my discomfort; an instinct of sorts told her to turn around and come get me. I sat quietly in the backseat on the car ride home. As we pulled into the driveway of my parents’ home, an ease set me free of the frightful stomachache. I knew deep down that my mother was my safeguard, and my childhood home was my comfort zone.

I continued to tell myself that this feeling or discomfort I was experiencing was normal, and in time, it would pass. I always wondered, Do other kids feel like this sometimes? I never asked anyone, though, nor did I complain every time it occurred. But I just felt sort of off or strange. Months after the initial doctor visit for testing, I began to take to the dreamlike states more regularly. My teachers would advise my parents, Patti seems to daydream a lot or Patti tends to lose concentration during class instruction. But my parents were not greatly concerned, for my academic life and productivity were not being affected. I was doing great in school, socializing, and participating in after-school programs and sports.

I lived a happy childhood, lacking nothing in life. I was an active little thing; I