Relentless

As I crawl back to my former life after a rather serious brain bleed and a chunk of my skull carved out, I know things are missing of my former self, but often cannot put my finger on what it is. If you do not know what it is that is wrong, certainly you have no way to make it right. Then, I heard the word two days ago. Relentless. Of course. Relentless was a massive part of who I was since I was a little human, and it is, therefore, a massive part of what I have not consciously gotten back yet.

I prefer to think in terms of “gotten back yet,” because the idea that I may not get some things back at all is, well, beyond terrifying. The attitude of the doctors has consistently been that not dead should be enough. It is not. Not now, not ever, will it be enough. So, back to relentless. From little kid to head bounce on pavement, my mother referred to my attitude as a “dog with a bone” when I got something in my head. It was accurate. In life, in education, in business, I would make a decision to do something or get somewhere and I would not let go until I had arrived. Nothing would stop me and my brain was always, always working on how to get it done. In fact, I could not prevent my brain from doing that. Now? Not so much. My brain loses track, or maybe it just puts things on a back burner until I can deal with it.

But in saying that, I have to wonder if relentless is still going on at a lower level, for the fight to get my real brain back, not this cheap copy. I did not want the cheap copy. I refused all surgery, brain bleeding and not stopping, unless they could guarantee my old brain. If not, then let it keep bleeding. They made no guarantees, yet they did the surgery against my wishes. Cut out a chunk of my skull and played with my brain. I am pretty angry about that, but let’s move on. The bleed shifted the center of my brain 2.5 centimeters which, in brain speak, is apparently a real problem. Part of the problem is this whole left side paralysis thing that the brain being shoved over that far does. I keep saying “apparently” because I have no memory of any of it, for about 3 weeks in the hospital. I have snippets. Snapshots of moments, but nothing I would call a memory. A time came where I did not feel being in the hospital was of any benefit, so I refused all further medical treatment and dragged myself out of there. I believe what was left of my real brain made me do that. It is surely something I would have done sooner if my old brain was in full drive and my head was not physically wired to something and my wrists restrained (old brain was doing its best to escape, unsuccessfully, so I am told). I think this was the relentless trying to come out. I also do not remain contained, or restrained, well. Maybe dragging myself out of the hospital against medical advice and several doctors really, really mad at me was the last act of the old brain that I can latch onto.

Relentless. Maybe I just have to soften my definition for a bit for now. I have this neuropsychologist who is a real trip (certainly showing my age with that phrase). He tells me that after he read my medical records, he was braced to spend the next six months telling me everything that I would never be able to do again. It was eighteen months after the head bounce that I first started seeing him. By that point, I had my left side in pretty good shape. You could not tell that there was any weakness left, though my balance remained a complete joke. My speech was pretty normal, unless you knew me very, very well. My vision still sucked, heck, it still does, but no one can tell from the other side of my eyes. So far, there has not been one thing that he has told me that I can never do again. So far. He told me that what I believe I cannot do now with my brain and intellect is a result of not having been doing it. Would that it were so, right? I believe it is the residual relentless, often called “pig headed,” that puts me nearer to the old me. And maybe relentless is what I needed to strive to get my old brain back. It is very possible that relentless always defined me more than anything else and I simply forgot how to be intentionally relentless and my brain has been doing it for me until today when I remember to do it on purpose again.

I spent the first fifty-some odd years ruling my world. My physical strength and my brain could get me out of, or into, anything. I lost both in an instant. My sense of humor, cynacism, dog with a bone nature, dexterity in manipulating my thoughts, speed in that manipulation, manner of analyzing, assessing situations from the details and my physical strength gone in an instant. Replaced with blinding frustration and fear. Frustration I knew, fear I did not. In fact, I did not even recognize that it was fear I was feeling for more than a year. Wild, right? But I had surrounded myself, unknowingly, with fearless people. I lived with the most brave and fearless human on the planet. He dealt with adversity like nobody’s business. He, too, was relentless and fearless. Maybe he was carrying some of my relentless for me and took it with him when he moved on from this life. Maybe, he just found a way to give it back, a way to remind me what I need to consciously restore in my present world. Or maybe it was not his efforts. But I remember now: latch on to the goal and do not let go until you get there. No rest, just drive.

The moral of this story is that we should never forget relentless as a tool to get us where we need to go. No letting up. Surely no giving up. Just shoulder to the grindstone until the grain has become flour. Relentlessly. Put your mind to task and make it happen. Now, I remember how.

Death, Disrespect and Decency

This is a pretty hot topic for me right now. My true love died recently and I have seen such poor, poor behavior from people that I am devastated and floored and a thousand other things. I will give you one example so you know from whence I come. The family (we were not married so I was of no consequence to them) refused to follow any of his final wishes. Obviously this is disrespectful to both of us, out and out rude to me, a bit hateful and seriously selfish. But that is not the worst of it. This “family” allowed a former girlfriend to stand all through calling hours acting as, I swear I am not making this up, “the widow.” Let’s just look at it from a standpoint of courtesy and manners. I believe that it is clear to any feeling, breathing human that discounting the woman the deceased lived with for years (me) and allowing someone else to hold herself out as the “widow” is impolite to the woman with whom the deceased was living and sharing his life and love. It also is cruel, hateful and lacking all sense of decency, but let’s start with impolite, because I make a serious effort here to keep my own polite in tact. This has been a learning experience for me that I hope will never be repeated, and the poor behavior is not limited to the family.

What I want this discussion to be about, and I do hope others chime in on the blog, is what proper, decent behavior is when someone loses an important member of their life. First, as soon as you can, express your heartfelt feelings for their loss to them as a matter of basic manners and kindness. The thoughtfulness of a meal brought to their home because it is really hard to cook when one is devastated, don’t you think? If you do not see the survivor right away, even a month later, have the common decency to give your condolences. Do not ignore it like it never happened. It did, and it was pretty huge. Send a card, show up at their door. Let them know that they are not alone. This is all not merely a showing of respect for them, but for the person that they, and you, have lost. I believe that is the next question one should ask oneself, and it is dependent upon your level of relationship with the decedent: What would the decedent want you to do in the face of their loved one being suddenly left alone and without them. From my recent experience, most people get over it all right away, in under a week, and never give another thought to the loved one left behind. That is hurtful and unintentionally unkind and, depending on your relationship with either party, rude. The loved one is not over it in a couple of days. They are not over it for a very, very long time. Yet they are forgotten by all but their dearest peeps.

If you have found yourself in the position of being a friend to someone that has died, and they leave a wife or husband or significant other behind, I believe there is a further obligation under the rules of courtesy. Let them know you’re thinking of them for awhile. Help fill the horrible void for them. Wouldn’t your friend want you to do that? To help the one they loved get through this terrible time? Perhaps you could extend an invitation to something so they know they have not been forgotten. Perhaps a moment to write a text message now and again just saying, “How you doing?” or “Wanted you to know I was thinking of you,” or “Just wanted to say hi” or, again, show up at their door. It doesn’t have to be anything big. Just an acknowledgment that they still exist and are thought of at a point when their life has been ripped apart and will never be the same again. Don’t remove yourselves from their life as well. I have one person decent and kind enough to check on me, and it means more to me than I could ever express. I count myself lucky to have someone in my life that actually has a soul. What say you? Agree, disagree? Do I expect too much of my fellow man?