Holiday Letter for 2010

Happy Holidays to All,

If there was ever a year that I looked back on and scratched my head, this would be it. What an awesome, beautiful and extremely challenging year 2010 turned out to be! The year kicked off feeling like I had really pissed off a Higher Being, but I have ended up looking back on the year’s gifts and they were greater than I could've ever dreamed of.

Tip and Henley continue to be one of the greatest gifts. Henley is turning out to be one heck of a swimmer and if she continues on this athletic path she will out do any athletic accomplishments of anyone to date with the name "Tippins". Her sense of humor continues to remind me that she can see past any "Cool Mimi (Aunt Amy)" ruse I try to pull on her. Recently, I was discussing with her how the kids sometimes give her a hard time on the bus. I informed her that kids made fun of me when I rode the bus and she quickly quipped back "Yeah, I can see that about you". I guess no matter how cool we think we are sometimes we just can’t pull it off. Tip reminds me of myself at his age and older; determined to do what he wants to do and unwilling to waver even if that means being punished for disobeying. While I don’t worry about him buckling under peer pressure, I worry that he might be shipped off to a deserted island if he keeps it up. I feel for Clay and Lori; and oh yeah, sorry, Mom and Dad.

This year has been a struggle with my health. More days than not were spent dealing with some medical issue between an ankle cadaver ligament replacement, broken hand, appendectomy and come this Thursday I will be having shoulder surgery. While I have spent a few days this year in tears over frustration (try not being able to walk for 2 months), I have realized that I am pretty damn blessed. In February, while recovering from my ankle surgery, I ended up coming across an article about a man who is the heart recipient from my donor. While it took a moment to understand what emotions I was feeling, what I knew was that there was someone else out there who shared the same love for a complete stranger - a complete stranger’s death  had given us both life. To the outside world that might sound trite, but to a transplant patient that is something sweet, wonderful and emotional to share with another person that you have only talked to on the phone.

In January I found myself facing a lack of employment. So, I decided I would start a sportswear company that focuses on the transplant community with the longer term goal of raising awareness on the life possibilities of transplant patients and also the moral responsibility they owe their donors. While I could sit here and write a 15 page letter about my emotions on what patients are capable of, I will narrow it down to few sentences. RockScar Love is about patients embracing a lifestyle that reflects a patient surpassing the boundaries of their minds, body and spirits - living their life understanding that transplant is not an excuse, but it is the moment in life when the bar is raised on how they are expected to live and their accomplishments. While I have absolutely been broke as can be starting RSL, I have gained wonderful new friends, moments of humbleness for the kindness that strangers have bestowed on me and moments of tears when others share their stories. While I hope and pray that this business venture continues to grow, I can tell you that it has already given me back more than I will ever put into it.

Normally, after the review of my year I venture down a path of some deep diatribe about an epiphany I have had throughout the year that has something to do with the meaning of life. Not this year. This year my letter shall stop at my review of gifts. While I have had some lessons this year, the year has definitely been an overwhelming year for me of blessings. I hope your year has been one of blessings for you and the ones you love. May 2011 be a year blessed with love, kindness to others and compassion for those less fortunate.

With Love,

Amy

Night of the Killer Raccoons

Every few months I go to Palm Beach Gardens to visit one of my best friends and his family.  I sleep in the guest room that has a glass sliding door downstairs on the main floor of the house.  In the case of a fire, I think I probably have the best room in the house.  When it comes to a group of mass murderers coming to get us, I am totally screwed.  This past trip I was leaving to come back home on Monday morning around 5:30AM but ended up getting an early 3AM wake up call.  Being the world's lightest sleeper, getting early wake up calls often contributes to baggy eyes.  On this particular morning, I woke up to the motion sensor patio lights going off.  Immediately, I locked the bedroom door and checked the sliding glass door to make sure it was secure so the savage beast who had come to attack could only get to Chris and his family and not me.  Because there was a 6ft locked fence going around the patio that is attached to the house, the only thing it could be is a mass murderer or a family member going outside. After locking all my doors, I proceeded to text Chris with the statement "Did you just go outside? The patio light went on".  (I did this on my pink blackberry because pink is the color of superheroes).  As soon as the text was sent, I heard the rattling of the front door. Someone was trying to get inside!  I instantly went under the covers and began trying to convince myself that if I cannot see them then they cannot see me!!!!  I was sure that this would keep me safe!  After a few minutes there is no murderer and the light went off, but I was still convinced they are waiting outside my door... waiting to kill me.  The next 15 minutes are spent under the covers (that was really a thin blanket that my feet are sticking out of) with a tight grip on my phone as I started to compose a text to family and friends telling them that I love them.  All of the sudden the light comes on again!!!!! At this point, I jump out of bed and hide behind a wall that is attached to the sliding glass door hoping to get a glimpse of this vicious killer.  The light goes off again.  THEN ON AGAIN!!!  I finally see shadows of the killer I have been waiting to get me, and I am convinced this is the end!!!  I am scared out of my mind as the killer is getting closer with what I am sure is a meat cleaver in hand like in the movie, Scream.  As the first images of the killer come into site I am shocked to see the face. It is a daddy raccoon and his baby coming to hide while mom climbs over the 6ft wooden fence with party favors in hand for dinner.  So, this was my killer.  The same killer that my friend, Chris, had received a text message about, gotten out of bed and saw the raccoons from his room and failed to text me back to tell me that I would see sunrise.  For a brief moment I was not sure if I was embarrassed or relieved that it was a family of raccoons, but I do know that whatever it was I was happy to be able to make it through the early morning hours in one piece.   

Talk of the Town-Courtesy of Winder Television

http://www.youtube.com/user/RockScarLove#p/a/u/1/aCtIHHu23pk


http://www.youtube.com/user/RockScarLove#p/a/u/0/YCmYGVcHlo8

My Love For My Donor Knows No Bounds

This past weekend was National Donor Sabbath weekend, and the questions that I ask myself about the journey were more prevalent than normal. No recipient looks at themselves in the mirror every day without thinking about their donor, even if the scars fade over time.  In my less mature days, I tried to emotionally disconnect myself from the reality of that fact that my donor was a man with feelings, memories, physical characteristics and relationships; that I and maybe a handful of people are the only ones that carry the DNA that share all of the above things.  Now I want to know who he was. What did the lines on his face look like? What color was his hair? Is my need to fight for the underdog and right all the wrongs in the world (even though I am usually on the losing end of that battle) influenced by him? What would he think of the way I live my life? Would he approve or disapprove? I find it interesting that I worry more about his approval from heaven then my own parents on earth.  Do other patients feel this way?

I have friends who have had living donors, and I wonder if they struggle with the same questions.  Does the fear of disapproval grow when they look into that person's eyes? Do they ask the questions "Why me? Why did I get this chance? Do I deserve the second chance that I got?"

I have a beautiful life.  A home, a niece and nephew to adore, friends and family to laugh and love with; I am blessed.  I would not be here without his liver (and might I add he had to be in some seriously good health to have 18 great years so far) and his family's making the choice to donate. Very few recipients know how to say thank you to their donor families (in the event the donor is deceased) because of the fear of causing pain.  Most of the time we are unable to know how to put into words the feelings in our hearts.  I am capable of saying “thank you for giving me the opportunity to build memories, to love and to have this amazing life that I do.  Your choice made all of it  possible.  I hope that my life and choices will reaffirm the decision that you made.” 

Images of Inner Beauty

Holly from HollyJImages.com



 Girls are taught that looks are important; I was raised in an environment that looking perfect all the time was stressed.  It was pointed out to me by family and coaches when I gained an extra 5 pounds; food taken off my plate to help me shed the extra weight. On the days that I am sporting a pimple or my hair is oily it has the potential to send me over the edge being that I am already OCD about maintaining the perfect image.  Like many women, I have more days where I feel more fat vs beautiful.  So, when it came to taking promotion pics for business I looked for someone who I could feel safe with that they would not be judging how many extra pounds the camera might put on me.  Someone who was patient with my fear of the camera...did that last Kit-Kat add a few extra dimples on the back of my legs?   I would have never thought one of my fears of taking pics could turn into one of those experiences that made me feel incredibly beautiful.  I was lucky to find Holly Schumacher of HollyJ Images.  Finding Holly was a little easier than most since she was a FB friend, but in reality I only remembered her as a very shy little sister of an old swimming peer.  Holly was not a friend growing up; she just was hanging out at the pool when I was.  Holly and I are about as different as two people can be.  I am 6'1" and Holly is 5'4".  Holly is an artistic and stick figures are a challenge for me to draw. Let's not even get into our different choices in men.  Holly and I strongly do share the ability to see the beauty in other's heart and to be passionate about what we do for a living.  Holly was able to take these two wonderful traits and in one image made me feel stunning.  I finally felt like my true beauty was coming through and for once I was not being judged physically.  What a lucky girl I am to have not only found a photographer I love working with, but a new friend who has so many wonderful traits they are hard to count.  Thanks for the gift, my friend!

Go Getter's Magazine-

http://gogettersmagazine.com/2010/10/amy-tippins/

I Suck at Compromising

Relationships and life are about compromises.  Recently, I took in a stray - my roommate.  Yes, he is a human.  He's not furry and I cannot dicipline him if he breaks the rules.  I am finding myself for the first time in 15 years living with someone.  Two years ago I sold my 1100sq ft house for a 1900 sq ft house because I felt like my first home was too small for me, my two furry children and a closet full of clothes.  How did I end up taking in a stray human?  Well, a need to conserve money while hemoraging it to build my dream (RockScar Love) will make me break a rule of never allowing anyone to live with me again unless I am married to them.  So, I find myself learning to compromise over space.  Now, RockScar Love's warehouse is my living room versus my much larger guest room.  I am no longer able to just leave dishes randomly in the sink when I don't feel like unloading the dishwasher, and his socks somehow seem to make into my underwear drawer.  I am 6 weeks into this new chapter of my life  -  taking on a grown man living in my home with his own ideas of how my house should be run.  Let's hope it lasts till RSL is making enough money to move into a warehouse or he might find himself homeless.

Bad Attitude, Rule Breaking and Back Talking Authority

When I was a little girl it was not uncommon for me to get in trouble for having a bad attitude, mouthing off to my parents or just intentionally breaking the rules.  I was always considered the "Trouble Child".  If authority told me to go left then I would go right and might even flick you a bird on the way out the door.  My stated philosophy has always been "life is about coloring outside the lines and breaking the rules".  Many people wonder where the sassy attitude for RockScar Love comes from?!?!  Well, it is that side of me that my parents tried to spank out of me as a kid!  Little did my parents know that it would carry me through a transplant one day and fuel my business creativity. 

Amy Tippins

Inappropriate Feelings...

Tonight I was watching an old episode of “Without a Trace”.  This particular episode portrayed a woman fighting cancer and towards the end of the show she tells her husband that the chemo is not working and that she was ready to die because she was exhausted…too tired to fight.  It might have been over 17 years, but I remember that feeling.  I was so exhausted from the physical symptoms of my illness, too sick to walk and worn out from telling the world that “everything would be okay”.  I was unable to console another person who dumped their emotional baggage on me about their feelings of my transplant.   Somehow I was able to dig down deep and find the strength to persevere. As transplant patients, we can’t express this to our family and friends; it is "wrong"!  The only place for patients to go is in search of more seasoned transplant patients such as myself.  Candidates sit in fear that these emotions - anger towards the situation, fear of death and guilt or resentment that someone has to die are “inappropriate” feelings to have; feelings that some family members might try to suppress and have you never speak of again.  With a transplant, you are closer to death than any other situation you could ever be in…without someone else’s death you are going to die.  So, what emotions can ever be considered “inappropriate” when you are sitting, waiting on another family to begin mourning so that yours can celebrate?  I recently heard a 6 year old who had a transplant say they were scared of dying; a sobering moment in my journey.  I was glad to see that his parents made it okay for him to express these feelings; I hope one day that many more families can accept all of the emotions of transplant even if they do not understand them.  

Transplant Has It's Privileges

One of the most common complaints from transplant patients is about the medical bills. Non-transplant people are always shocked to hear that our meds alone, even with no doctor’s appointments, can cost up to $2,000 a month without insurance. Astounding, I know! Well, I finally found a positive aspect to being a medical high-dollar woman: preferential treatment at the hospital. Case in point: on August 17, I woke with an incredible stomach ache that ended up being appendicitis. Minutes after texting, “So, what is appendicitis like?” to him, my transplant doctor called me and told me to meet him at the hospital. (Come to think of it, having the personal cell phone number of a world-renowned transplant physician is a second perk from my insurance company and me spending more than $500,000 with him over a few month period.)

I spent a few minutes struggling to decide which of the people in my life I was going to burden with chauffeuring me. Ultimately I concluded that, rather than make that call, I would prefer to drive myself to the hospital even doubled over in pain. (I would like to brag on myself for this feat of willpower, but won’t belabor the point considering I had to share the road with more conscientious motorists …)

After what seemed like a much longer trip than it should have been, I arrived at the Treatment Center. Upon hearing my name the hospital receptionist said, “Why, Ms. Tippins, we have been waiting for you.  Come on back. There is no reason to wait or sign in!” Within 10 minutes I was sporting a sexy backless gown that was also missing one of the “handy” (read: pointless) drawstrings, while the nurse was prepping my needle for the good stuff: morphine. Maybe it was the drugs talking, but I thought to myself, “Wow! Now I’ve made it! I am the envy of everyone who has ever waited at a hospital.” Later, more sober, I reasoned that maybe transplant does have its privileges!

President's Letter for RockScar Love

Every morning I wake up knowing that I carry the DNA of three people. My uncommon genetic composition bears with it a tremendous responsibility. Each day I must live in honor of those who have given life to me.

As a teenager in 1993 I should have been consumed with boys, proms and pop culture. Instead I had to wrap my mind around the fact that my remaining lifespan was projected at maybe more than five years. My liver transplant that year literally changed my life. Though the journey has been far from easy, I know I am one of the lucky ones.

As a transplant recipient living for my donors* I have made the commitment to never use my experiences as a crutch. I believe that organ donors and their families desire for recipients to obtain a new lease on life through the precious gift they give. To create the lives of our dreams. To purposefully pursue our goals and aspirations, no matter what they are. In short, I believe that living a life unfulfilled would be doing a disservice to my donors.

Founding RockScar Love was a significant step in achieving my purpose. RockScar Love exists to teach transplant patients that their scars represent something amazing and beautiful. That their experiences are something to be proud of. That living less-than-amazing lives is unacceptable. For some, achieving that point of view takes time. It is a process that I believe is furthered by humor and a spunky attitude. As patients we can acknowledge that the journey has its challenges; but these just mean we have to dig deeper to overcome and become champions. A champion is someone who could look into her donor’s eyes and know that he would be proud of her. I make this thought my daily motivation.

With love for my transplant family, their donors and loved ones –

Amy N. Tippins

Founder and President, RockScar Love Designs

*February 20, 1993-Liver

February 3, 2010-Ligament Allograft