Saturday, May 27, 2017

The Big Reveal

Dear Reader, no sooner do we leave Harrisburg than we've got to go back.  I forgot something!  But don't you worry, this won't take long.  We'll just pop in and out, and then we'll be done there for good! 

What I overlooked in my Harrisburg tale:  The Big Reveal!

Here's the curious thing, Reader Dear:  When I came to Harrisburg, it had been three weeks since my original surgery and I was still completely in the dark about the harrowing results!  I knew nothing about the complications.  I did not know about my lengthy time in the Land of Elsewhere.  I didn't  know about my second surgery, or the weeks that my family practically took up residency in the hospital to keep watch over me!  

Now, it's so curious that I was not curious!  While I was vaguely aware that the calendar now said March rather than February, I just let it go and lived in the moment.  Dear Reader, I'm sure you are asking, right about now,  "So where on earth did you think you saw the Holy Mother?! On earth?!!"
 The fact is, I never contemplated it.  When I was finally awake and aware, and my family cried to see me aware, I did not ask any questions.

Just before I left the ICU, a doctor stopped around to see me and exclaimed, "You look like a million bucks!"
I simply wise-cracked (via paper and pen): "When  a doctor tells you that you look like a million bucks, watch out!" I did not ask myself, "Oh, really? A million bucks? Compared to what, dear doctor, death warmed over?!"

Now, normally I am driving The Yard Man crazy with my insatiable appetite for facts and details.
"All this snow! Did you see anyone building a snowman?  Was it in a yard or out on the sidewalk?  Did the snowman have arms?  Was it wearing a hat?" Surely you get my drift, Reader Dear (And, for a snowman at the end of a rabbit trail--click on this).
So for days and days The Yard Man had been attempting to tell me "what happened". He was afraid that someone would ask about my second surgery and there would be an awkward silence as I responded with a blank look. 

But, here's the thing (I'll just repeat myself):  I was not curious!  Beyond that, I actively did not wish to know (when I thought about it for any length of time [which was rare]). What good would it do for me to know?!  I did not wish to hear what calamity had befallen me until I was far beyond the fall-out.  "No!" I would tell The Yard Man. "Don't tell me!  I don't wanna know!"

Finally we came to the night of the big snow.  It was late evening, and The Yard Man was leaving to go to his hotel room.  "Please let me tell you what happened!" he cajoled. "I reeeaaallly want to tell you!  I have to tell you!  Why don't you want to know?!  Aren't you curious?!"

I wrote:

And then I wrote "Okay".

The Yard Man then proceeded to give me The Big Reveal!
It was quite the chilling story:
Heart stopped!  I got a phone call!  Resuscitated, but messed up a second artery!  Rushed you onto life-support!  Lots of blood transfusions!  Doctors very unsure of your survival!  
(Yes, I know, Reader Dear, I've already given you the Big Reveal.  No need to tell it all again!)

I was stunned.  "No way!"  I said to The Yard Man.  Of course, it was true I had this weird hole in my neck and a breathing tube and a feeding tube, but...Dead?!  I had died?? And my chest ripped open twice?! 

He insisted it was true!  He had been so traumatized, he said.  The whole family had been traumatized!  How wonderful to have me back!

Soon after, The Yard Man said good-night and left.  I looked out the window at the never-ending snowy night.   Yikes!  What freaky news!  Now I was somewhat traumatized!**

**Promptly enough, however, I was back to grieving my inability to sleep, the forty days and forty nights of upcoming snow, the long night ahead.  I was NOT consumed with questions.  How very curious!**

**"Why would that be?!  How long did that last?! When did she start asking questions?! What kind of details did she ask for first?....."



Terry said...

I just caught up on the last five episodes.Your note "I can't explain. I think my brain is too busy trying to survive" is desperately powerful. What a time you have had.

KTdid said...

Hi Terry. Thanks for your comment. It's true (even now) that "I can't explain" and the whole thing, in fact, seems like a receding nightmare.