Sometimes Not Remembering Is A Good Thing

Several people including my family have asked if I remember certain things from being in the hospital. The truth is I remember very little of that time. If I put all of what I remember together it might be an hour or two. In some ways that has been a little frustrating because it was three days the majority of which I cannot remember. However, in so many other ways it has been a blessing. 

I apparently had conversations with people that I have no memory of. Somewhere in my subconscious I have snippets of them I think, but for the most part I have no recollection of it at all. Sometimes I think God allows that so we do not become more overwhelmed than we already are. I know I was on medication for the pain from the surgery which kept me asleep or drowsy most of the time and that is a factor as well. I can only imagine what some of the conversations were because of no memory of them. Hopefully what I said made sense.

The blessing of not remembering everything is an important one. The good thing is that 99% of everyone who came in my room were filled with hope. That hope and support continues to be expressed every single day by those people to my family and myself. However, there were things said and discussions that occurred that my family will not tell me about and I believe I am better off not knowing. One thing I want to put in my book I am working on and will write about here at some point are things NOT to say to someone diagnosed with cancer. Again the majority of the people who came to see me did not do this. However, there was one nurse (and only one) that had already given up on me and she came to tell me that. She said it in a nice way according to my family and I am sure she did not mean it to have the impact it had, but they nor I needed to hear that at that time. Everyone else including my surgeon had come in to see me with the reality of the diagnosis, but also the hope of treatment and options. It took my family by surprise when someone came in talking about me going to Heaven as if it was going to happen soon. It took all that they could do, especially my little brother Gary, not to escort her out of the room. Had they not been so taken aback by what she was saying I think they would have because the result was me thinking I had no hope. It is not something I consciously recall, but my subconscious did because that is what I believed for about a month after my surgery. So just a word to the wise, whatever you say to someone whether they are coherent or not registers in their brain and can have an impact. Patients and families dealing with a difficult diagnosis of any kind need some reality and a whole lot of hope through the words of those supporting them. 

Some funny things happened that I sort of recall but not in much detail such as being served a plate full of fried food after being moved from ICU to a regular room. My brother Gary said I was totally dumbfounded by what they served, expressed that strongly and basically had no desire to eat any of it except maybe a roll and probably jello. Hospitals always have jello. Another funny thing happened in ICU before they moved me. The physical therapists came to see if I could get up and move around so they had me get up and use a walker to walk a few steps down the hall. I got going and they basically had to lasso me and stop me because I was ready to walk as far as I needed to. They kept telling me that's enough you can go back now. But a brain on medication works in strange ways. Part of my brain kept telling me you need to walk some more and show them you can get around while the other part was saying you are supposed to go back to your room now. It was a thought based tug of war so they took me by the arms and directed me back to the room. When I think of that now and recall it that is a funny moment too. It's good to find the humor where ever you can. 

I will be perfectly happy if the memories I have of that time in the hospital are all I ever have. In part because what I remember the most is the love and the outpouring of support from my family and friends. Even the woman at the desk at the front of the hospital commented to my friends Christy and Bud when they came to look for me, "that woman must know a lot of people because a lot of people are coming to ask about her and see her." The ICU staff had to kick some people out because there were so many there for me. How wonderfully heart warming that is. That is a memory I will hold close every single day.