It’s been over a year-and-a-half since I died twice and came back–twice! I mean, it had to be twice, right? It would have been pretty weird if I said I came back once after dying twice. Not only would it be weird, but it would be not possible for me to die twice, come back once, and be writing this post.
Clearly, I use humor as a way of dealing with the experience. No wait. That’s not right. I’m not using humor to cope with what happened because cope gives the wrong impression. I don’t knwo how to put this delicately, but…aw hell. I’m just going to say it. It was not a traumatic experience in and of itself. I was out for a week, yes (in a coma), but when I woke up, I had all my faculties intact–more or less. Just a reminder–non-COVID-related walking pneumonia, two cardiac arrests, and an ischemic stroke. That’s all the things that happened to me within twenty minutes. I mean, I had the pneumonia to begin with, and it’s what triggered the rest.
This is going to sound like a humblebrag, but trust me that it’s not–I brushed my shoulders off and kept it pushing. Ok, yeah, it is a humblebrag even though I don’t mean it to be. It’s one reason I don’t talk about it much. It’s hard not to be all like, “Yeah, it was nothing” and have it land. Most people who have had strokes have to deal with the aftermath. Me, I have a few small things such as not being able to do simple math in my head and forgetting things, but those are easily remedied by writing shit down.
I feel slightly guilty at times for getting off so easy. I’ve researched the effects of a stroke. I watched a video from a Mayo Clinic doctor (best hospital in the world, and local!) stressing that someone with a stroke can’t think of going back to normal. He was much more diplomatic than that, but that’s what he meant. Basically, he was saying, it’s going to change. Your life, I mean. He was pretty unequivocal about that. Even while he was trying to be positive, it was clear that he wanted people to understand that life as they knew it was over.
I keep remembering a comment I read on Ask A Manager. I don’t remember the context, but it was in April of last year from someone who had had a stroke in January of the same year. She said that she went from having a full-time job to only being able to sit up for a few hours at a time. She would never drive again–which, by the way, is funny because the only time I was forbidden from driving was for a day after my angiogram. Other than that, driving was not mentioned at all. The physical therapist watched me walk twice (for five minutes each time two days in a row), then said she had nothing left to teach me. I passed all the tests with colors if not flying colors. Everything got checked off. Speech, eating, grooming, and walking. They never tested my writing, but that’s not necessary these days. I don’t type quite as fast as I used to, but it’s still faster than the average. I used to type over a hundred words a minute, and I’m probably closer to 80 WPM these days. Touch typing with the Dvorak system, yo.
Anyway. Back to the commenter. She could only sit up for two or so hours at a time. She couldn’t work more than four hours a day. She could only type with one hand. She wasn’t going into the office, but working at home. She tired easily.
It really affected me because it was clear that her life had changed. Mine, not so much. Again, there are some small things I have to adjust for. I will say that I’m not comfortable driving, but I never was. It’s just that my peripheral vision is even worse now than it was before. But it’s not a big deal. Lyft is a thing and my brother is willing to drive me if he has time.
More to the point, I’m so fucking lucky. I know this and appreciate it every day. I should be dead. That is not melodrama–it just is. My med team told my brother in not so many words to plan my funeral and get ready to pull the plug. This is not something I can talk about with most people. How do I explain what happened to me without it sounding weird?
K says that it’s my life and I don’t need to keep it to myself. She’s right. It IS my life, and it’s made an indelible impression on me. But my thing is to relate with people, and this is simply not relatable. I will say that I watched a video my mother sent me with an American doctor who fell into a coma for several months before waking up. He talks about his NDE (Near Death Experience), but I did not relate to him at all. He said it’s what made him believe in (the Christian) God, even though he was an atheist before. He also said that all the people he knows who have had NDE also feel that way. Um, ok. But you can’t speak for all of us. I had a death experience, not even a near-death one, and I don’t feel that way. At all.
My mother tried to get me to say that I saw God when I died, but I did not. She seemed disappointed, but I’m not going to lie about it. I did not see God. I did not see angels. I did see a bright light, but I was in the hospital. I heard a disembodied voice telling me to calm down, which was probably a nurse. And that was when I knew that there was no God with a capital G. It’s also when I realized that love was, indeed, the most powerful force in the world. Well, not at that moment, but when I left the hospital and saw all the well wishes I had received.
I’ve always believed in the collective, but that was when I realized taht the sum is, indeed, greater than the addition of all the parts. I have said over and over that I made it through with the help of luck, Taiji, and love. It’s the latter that I’m referring to when I say that we’re all part of something bigger than us.
But it’s not God with a capital G. It’s Us with a capital U. It’s the love we show each other when someone is hurting and when someone is beaming. I’m not a Pollyanna. In fact, most people would say that I’m a negative cynic. And oppositional. Which, fair. I am all that, too. But.
I will tell you a little secret. Back in the day, I had a friend who told me that I was an optimist. I was indignant because how DARE he? Me, the cynical realist! But he explained it by saying that I was disappointed when people didn’t do what I expected them to do. I opened my mouth to protest again, but then shut it.
He was right, damn it. SO RIGHT.
I do expect people to do the right thing and then am disappointed when they don’t. So yeah. Optimist. Grumpy optimist, but optimist, nonetheless. I’m done for now. More tomorrow!