I can’t be mad at anyone for asking how I’m doing. I appreciate it a lot, and it shows concern for me. But when I explain my situation to them, and they say “OK, get well soon!” and then feel they have done their duty, I must admit, it’s a little annoying.
I’m not going to “get well soon”. That’s not even a part of what I’m going through. There is no speedy recovery. I don’t need to feel better. I’m waiting for test results to come back, and I’m taking a bunch of medication in the meantime. I want people to understand that so that they don’t go into the “You’re in the hospital, you must be sick” mode, and then respond to me accordingly.
I’m fine. I’m better than I’ve ever been in my life. I’m not worried about me. I have the best medical care I’ve ever had. I’m having the experience of my life. I want to share that with as many people as I can.
Once I was asked
“Did you survive?”
The moment it came out he realized that it was so silly we both laughed. Someone is going to get teased about that one for a while.
Really, want to know is about you. I want to know is how you are doing. I want to know what’s going on in your life, how your health is, how you are maintaining, what you’re working towards. That sharing is way more interesting to me than my situation.
One morning I was working at the computer, and a nurse came by who was a floater (meaning they aren’t regularly there, just filling in for a staff shortage).
He commenced to tell me that I must hate it here, and feel like I’m in a prison, the other part of the hospital is much nicer, and don’t worry I’ll be getting better and out soon.
I was like “huh?!”.
This guy looked like the closest he’d come to a sit-up was leaning forward to get the TV remote off the coffee table. He moved slowly and breathed heavily when he did it. He exuded an air of general sadness, and he was mentally drained. We hadn’t had 3 sentences between us and I could see his unhappiness with his life, yet he was telling me how bad mine was. I felt sorry for him the moment he walked into the room. As not to gloat, I just told him that I was doing OK, and the place wasn’t too bad. I wanted him to leave quickly, as my space was being invaded with negative energy.
I’ve been kinda sensitive to energies lately. I don’t think that it’s something that needs to be explained. You either believe it or you don’t. Being in a situation like this has helped me to become hyper sensitive to the vibe, energy, spirit, whatever word you want to use of myself and others. Negativity is like a mist that seeps from the pores, and can infect others. Positivity is like a breath of fresh air that can clean and clear your spirit. But it has to be real. You can’t tell yourself to “See the positive”, you have to open yourself up to it, and it will be more than seen, it will become a part of you.
I think the initial reaction to most things is the negative one. It’s like a defense mechanism, to feel that every interaction is going to try and take away from our lives, or cause pain, or do something that will take us out of our comfort zone.
I’ve since decided that those with a less than happy outlook on the world are the people I need to interact with more. It’s easy to sit around happy people and be happy. It’s when the happiness isn’t there, when it’s dark, and people are scared that you can make a difference in showing them positivity, and that being OK is not about staying alive. We’re all going to stay alive until we aren’t anymore. Alive is not OK. Happy is OK.
While writing in the Yard one day, I had my mental lockup, and I was fighting the usual, which is me passing out. One of the guys came up to check on me and I started crying, and I kept telling him
“If something happens to me and I end up not waking up, or punching out or whatever, I need you to let everyone know that I was happy. I mean, I’m really happy, I don’t want them to think that I’m here suffering and in a lot of sadness.”
“Shaka, nothings going to happen to you, you’ll be fine”
“I’m not worried about being fine, please just make sure they know. I’m not suffering.”
I couldn’t get him to understand that I spent so much time unhappy. I spent so much time unsatisfied with life, and going through it without a purpose, or a plan that meant something to me. I was finally in a place that I was developing a life plan and I was truly happy with myself. But I also had some lesions and abscesses in my brain, so I might just not wake up one morning. It wasn’t a worry, because we all are going to be here for a limited time only. Maybe I was closer. Maybe I was not. Having my brain shut down on me and passing out on the table whenever I write is just a reminder that I could be done with things a little earlier than most people. But if that did happen I wanted my friends to not be sad, because not many people get to live happily, and I was doing that. I’m OK. I am happy.
Even if I am crying right now.
sGB