Cooking with Dee

A few years back I was in an accident that caused a traumatic brain injury, and a craniotomy. My husband the software guy says my brain hit Ctrl-Alt-Del. Haha. A month later I came out of an interesting coma. Interesting for everyone else because they had to determine my fate, and for me because I had many very interesting life-like dreams.

Those dreams culminated in a drab grey room where I asked myself “is this it?” Is this the end, is this all there is out there? At that point my brain said I couldn’t go now, there was simply too much to do and that was that. I woke up.

My husband says that when I was coming back he began to recognize me when I did particularly “Dee” things. When the nurse tried to pin me in the sheets by tucking them in tightly, I fought to get my feet outside the covers as I always do. He knew right then that I’d be back.

I didn’t get it until a couple of months later in brain rehab. A visiting psychologist laughed at me and called me “the smart one” before he told all the other medical professionals (in earshot) I’d never go home again. Of course that was a challenge and I proved him wrong quickly and decisively. He laughed because one day a fellow patient climbed the five steps intended to teach TMI patients to re-learn stairs. At dinner that afternoon I congratulated him on his effort. Yea!

It took me a while after discharge months later that that moment was the moment I got “me” back. The life of a patient is all me, me, me all the time. How’s my recovery. How many more language exercises. How many flights of stairs. Can I make it to the next handhold, perhaps twenty feet, before collapsing into my wheelchair.

They mocked me because even though I was as bad off as the other patients, I thought of others and was cheering on their recovery as well as my own. I got me back that day and while at the time I couldn’t put my finger on it or put it into words, I knew it and it gave me the will and strength to pass all their damn tests and get out of there and back to my life taking care of my family.

I’ve always cared for those less fortunate, kids who were mocked for being too smart or dumb or ugly or even gay. That caring has always extended to animals, which is why people in all my old neighborhoods still call me “the dog lady.”

I’ve never understood how selfish people can operate on a daily basis, thinking only of themselves and their own needs and desires to the exclusion of all else. And I certainly never thought we’d vote as a nation to hire a sociopathic, malignant narcissist as the president of the United States.

Parents, school, and Mass inculcated me to the “do unto others” philosophy that has driven me my entire life, even in grade school. I’m a senior citizen now with (currently) the right to vote and have my opinion heard. Perhaps the antithesis to the political circus of hatred that is coming into power is the polar opposite. I am considering becoming radical, using kindness as my message.

Most of us are caring, loving people who want government to serve our needs, try to keep grocery and gas prices low and have a working border and immigration policy. We don’t have an urgent need to ruin our constitutional democracy by hurting the majority of our people, the economy, our environment, our children because one person is mad at the world and is hell-bent on hurting everyone who has or may ever hurt him. I’m not a sociopath or a vindictive person by nature or diagnosis. I just want to live my life free from the intrusion of people who have no business being in my business, whether it be who I love, how I vote or how my doctors and I choose to treat my conditions as they arise.

Let’s be kind to each other. Trump has shown time and time again that he’ll push the envelope way too far and when people cry out in unison, he’s proved a bully that retreats at the slightest resistance. So that’s what we’ll have to do. With kindness. This election may have squeaked in an incredibly dangerous and unhinged person but I’m still the same, so are you, so are our families and friends. Let’s just kindly tell the MAGA crowd that we like our rights and our Constitution, thank you. We intend to keep them.

The mean visiting psychologist told me I’d never live at home and I’d certainly never drive again. When I took a driving test the instructor asked my why on earth I needed one. It was as if I’d driven yesterday, and I’m a good driver. Yes! Freedom. The State attorney appointed to fight either my doctors or my husband for my proper care actually forgot about the court hearing. I found out about it, called the lawyer and he stopped by only to find that I offered him freshly-brewed herbal tea and conversation, same as any normal homemaker would do. He immediately cancelled the custody hearing and left us alone.

Kindness. Radical kindness. Pass it on. Dee