Morning Open Thread is a daily, copyrighted post, from a host of editors and guest writers. We support our community, invite and share ideas, and encourage thoughtful, respectful dialogue in an open forum.
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Special guest post today.
Sockpuppet and I had a very trying last week. She had a far worse week than I. She had a very close call, with the cold hand of the Grim Reaper on her shoulder, his icy breath on her neck. As for me, I was simply a hand-wringing wreck. Last Thursday night, I rushed her to the Emergency Department of the nearest Level I Trauma Center. She recounted that adventure last Saturday.
Sockpuppet wanted to write her thoughts and reflections about that experience. I urged her to post under her own username, but she felt that since I was the scheduled Wednesday diarist, it should be under my byline.
Having said that, all the below is a guest diary by Sockpuppet.
On Second Chances, or Three…
by Sockpuppet —
As some of you who were here on MoT over the weekend may know, I had a real tail-singeing narrow escape from the Grim Reaper.
Thursday night through Monday was one wild, and very long, weekend.
I honestly had no idea that my Clock was ticking down from hours to seconds.
I had passed multiple emboli (blood clots) from my leg, through my heart, and into both lungs. Pulmonary embolism. I learned a new medical abbreviation: “PE.”
Now that I'm back to Ordinary Reality, the full impact of The Narrow Escape is coming into focus for me. Acute focus. As it should be.
I feel like I was a character in a Monty Python plot twist, when the characters in a skit come to some terrifying moment (such as facing a firing squad), when suddenly the screen goes blank, with only a notice, "Scene Missing."
The next frame shows them all strolling around smiling, saying, "That was an amazing escape!"
I can't understand how I'm still here, but it seems that I might've won this round with The Dire Wolf.
"When I awoke, the Dire Wolf, six hundred pounds of sin,
Was grinning at my window, all I said was "Come on in".
Don't murder me, I beg of you, don't murder me. Please, don't murder me.
The Wolf came in, I got my cards, we sat down for a game.
I cut my deck to the Queen of Spades, but the cards were all the same.
Don't murder me, I beg of you, don't murder me. Please, don't murder me."
— Lyrics by Robert Hunter, Melody by Jerry Garcia
Do I feel grateful for another chance to "keep paddlin'", as MoTley regular River Rover is fond of saying? Yeah. The first warmth of sunlight on my face as I left the hospital felt like spun gold, softly brushing me with Redemption.
After all, I had metaphorically been on my knees bargaining for Another Chance during the life-saving uber clot-busting procedure that saved my life (during which I was allowed no anesthesia nor sedative). All of you probably know about that desperate bargaining, at least a time or two in your life: "Don't murder me, I beg of you, don't murder me. Please, don't murder me."
This is not the first time I've been on my knees praying for that 'Nother Chance. Once was as a passenger in a catastrophic car wreck. Another was when I found myself literally "on thin ice" on a steep, unmaintained trail in The Grand Canyon, where there was only ice on a foot-wide switchback in front of me, and thousands of feet down. Literally nothing between me and impending Eternity. Somehow, inexplicably, I got that second chance to make many more mistakes that should have, and almost did, kill me.
So this time, last Thursday night, here I was again, on my knees pleading for yet another Second Chance (Third chance?). I had been instructed by the surgical team, after they dryly informed me of the no-anesthesia news, to just "go to my Happy Place."
So, I took that opportunity to beg and bargain with The Ethers and the Powers That Be to please not take me now. I felt warmly enfolded, mysteriously enough, but also sensed that the answer was, "Here you are again, on your knees, making promises. Why don't you just stay there this time?"
Uh, yeah, I get it…
My next thought was, “What might’ve been My Last Words on this planet? What might I have been thinking and feeling in that Moment?” Yeah, just stay there, and maybe learn something indelible this time...
I am grateful, once again, for whatever Mysterious Intervention has allowed me yet another chance to maybe Get It Right. I remember the promises I made. Same ones I've made before, sad to say. But this may be the last time I get Another Chance.
I'm so happy to still be here with my betrothed, the venerable Scribe of the Otteray. We have so much ahead of us to live, love and enjoy. But, whew, that was a close one. My tail is still smarting from the singe!
How close did I come? Colter Wall nails just how close I came.
I am here to tell you that the Devil does indeed wear a suit and tie. I think I saw him waiting just outside the surgical suite in the wee hours of last Friday morning.
This is an open thread. Pull up a chair, get your cup and spill what’s on your mind.
What would you be willing to bargain, for a miraculous Second Chance?