182 Seconds of Silence

Water

The pitcher is just far enough that I no longer want to reach for it. Someone should check the filter on something because I have asked any visitor to bring a bottle of water rather than taste what seems to be recycled sweat. Clearly it’s me and not the liquid, but some things never returned to their natural flavor after the chemo. In fact some things are better avoided because they are just reminders of items I enjoyed but know worry that cardboard will be the signal my brain receives.

I spent the past week being a captive of the medical establishment. At some point I really do need to ask if the drugs were designed to make things easier or worse? The entire task of getting up and walking a few feet didn’t work out as intended. Being dizzy just thinking wasn’t fun.

For 182 seconds I was dead. Nothing to report about that experience. I’ve needed the reports from the hospital to tell me what happened. Lots of people running around while I was laying on the floor of my den-mother’s living room. No bright lights, no angels telling me to go in either direction. Basically I was just there.

I’m glad I don’t remember or even understand all of it.

Being shocked back into some form of heart rhythm apparently doesn’t constitute a violation of a Do Not Resuscitate. Breathing being that line my body hadn’t crossed. Sure the heart was silent, but the rest of me was still trying to give it the “Old College Try”!

By the time people explained to me what had happened, my thoughts were about possibly making a few adjustments to what I thought I wanted versus what ended up occurring. The problem with that is this while depression thing that goes with basically everything surrounding my medical stuff.

I found a reason to not be so cavalier about my death. Not in such a rush to just let the cancer win out.

Every single attempt I have made to avoid letting new people in has led to finding the will of two people in particular to be stronger than my willingness to be alone. The therapist has always said I came back to Massachusetts to be around people who were going to push me to be more than I felt I was. But that is why she gets paid, to tell me things I don’t always see. Knowing that people did that same thing in order for me to tell them about economic forecasts, I get how much of a guessing game it can be at times.

The best thing I can offer is letting them have hope.  You can’t take that away from a person without it changing them in a very bad way.  They aren’t even hoping for a cure, it’s been about time and how best to spend it.  Facing simpler challenges that we might be able to conquer in an afternoon.  Something as simple as a puzzle or wanting to learn about a subject.

I know that there are times when people leave and that hug is about a full range of emotion.  Not too tight, but lingering long enough to carrying until the next time.

The funny thing I can say?  You drain too much water out of a person and they can’t concentrate on the world around them.  They slowly die.  You take away people who matter?  The same thing happens.

Advertisements