Miracle Max is right. That difference is coming back to life. I’d forgotten about that scene in the movie until a friend shared a gif of it. It seems there’s a Princess Bride quote for every occasion, including my own recent brush with death.
Yes, I “briefly” died and came back, without the help of Miracle Max’s paddles or any paddles at all. The Doctors think I’m a mystery and a marvel. I think they’ve missed something, like I wasn’t really dead at all. But that could just be wishful thinking.
Wrote about what happened back in January after I returned home from the hospital and started to get some strength back. I’d promised to keep you posted on how things were going. So better late than never — here goes.
As you can imagine, it has been interesting. There have been more doctors than I know what to do with. Thank god I like them all. Cardiac Rehab is great. There have been tests and more tests. Even more tests are coming up in order to get cleared for the defibrillator/pace maker implant, hopefully in June. And I’m slowly adjusting to this new reality. There have been moments of real fear, sorrow, anxiety, thankfulness, joy, and peace.
Wrapping your mind around the fact that you died, mostly or not, that the doctors aren’t sure why and that it can happen again, isn’t easy. Lets face it. It’s terrifying. “Death” ceases to be an abstraction. A thing out there somewhere. Inevitable? Certainly, but surely not now!
The thing that can haunt me is how quickly and without warning I went from looking at a clock at the train station and thinking I had time for coffee before the train arrived, to waking up in the back of an ambulance. What haunts me is knowing it can happen again without warning. The feeling of utter vulnerability can be overwhelming. But then I remember that I’m here. I remember all of you and how you were there for my children and myself when things were so uncertain and frightening.
I remember that I was gone and then I wasn’t. Or as Miracle Max would put it, I was only “mostly dead.” I remember the slow progress that is being made in healing. I remember to be thankful for being able to write this to you.
Apparently I still have things to do. Things to learn. Things to be thankful for — the gifts each day brings, loved ones, and a sense of humor. All are crucial to healing and hope. You can laugh and cry simultaneously.
Today, for the first time it occurred to me that it may be possible to put together a stand up comedy routine out of briefly dying at a train station in Connecticut.
This morning a friend stopped by and was kind enough to take me to Dunkin Doughnuts for a coffee. Now a little back story is in order before we go any further. Since that infamous day in January when I dropped lifeless to the train station floor, it has become apparent that I was working towards that moment for some time.
I had been getting progressively more tired over the last few years and ascribed it to getting older and allergies. Given that I am allergic to all the green growing things I love — trees, grasses, etc — basically the state of Maine — the tiredness made sense.
That increasing exhaustion also had me mainlining caffeine. At least once a day for months, I went to my local Dunkin Doughnuts, conveniently located just down the road and around the corner. Every day I ordered my favorite iced mocha latte. And that was on top of the cups of tea I was having at home. Eventually I upgraded to an iced mocha macchiato. It came with more espresso than the latte. More caffeine! Yay!!
My daily appearances at the drive through led to the work crew knowing me pretty well. They knew how I liked my coffee. They liked my sense of humor and I liked them.
Spending a few moments with them became as important a part of the day as getting my caffeine fix.
That abruptly ended on January 24th, when my body hit the train station floor. Needless to say, I disappeared from the Dunkin Doughnuts drive thru lane for awhile.
Eventually I returned, the SO behind the wheel. But only infrequently. I’m mostly decaf now. The days of daily trips for caffeine were over. Even so I thought the word had gotten out about the reasons for my absence. Enough of my Dunkin Doughnuts "family" had seen me and asked where the heck I’d been. Every time the answer resulted in a momentary stunned silence.
There is no good way to explain briefly dropping dead except to say, “I briefly died at a train station in Connecticut, ” which after being said enough times starts to sound like the refrain from a bad country western song.
I end up feeling guilty for upsetting people and do my best to reassure, usually by kicking my sense of humor into gear. If I can make them laugh, it’s all good.
It happened again this morning.
"Lily," matriarch of the work crew, appeared at the drive thru window. Both of us being of a certain age, she and I enjoy one another’s company. She even cheered me on over a year ago as I picked up my latte on the way to a demonstration after Trump was sworn in. We’re older women who share a take on the world and make one another laugh.
Until this morning I hadn’t seen Lily since before I left to visit our Yasu in January. When my friend drove the car up to the drive thru window, Lily appeared with my latte in hand and said — Where have you been?!!”
Obviously none of her co-workers had told her about why I hadn’t been around. So I told her about briefly dying at a train station in CT on my way home from visiting a friend.
Lily froze in shock, eyes locked on my face, her mind needing a little time to process what I just told her. She literally did not move for a moment or two.
Eventually she said, “Don’t do that again!” To which I replied that dying hadn’t been on my bucket list. Silence. She was still frozen in place, leaning on the window sill of the drive thru window.
I smiled at her, trying to look reassuringly alive and healthy. A giggle may have escaped at which point she said — “It’s not funny!
I couldn’t help myself and said — “At the moment it is.”
I wasn’t sure what Lily would do. She looked like she didn’t know either. I could’nt even believe I had said that to her. The whole absurd surreality of it all left laughter as the only option. My friend and I burst out laughing because what else can you do?
So Lily ended up laughing too, because seriously, what else CAN you do?
After all, there’s something very “Waiting for Godot” about the whole thing.
Yeah. A stand up routine. A bad country western song. Who knows?
So keep the faith. Remember, each day does have gifts of its own.
All things are possible, including the occasional iced mocha latte — half decaf/half regular — and laughter at the drive thru window.
Love and blessings to all.