Where to begin...
Almost 5 years ago, my heart stopped, and I was literally dead for 10-15 minutes. I was fortunate enough to not be alone when my heart stopped (aka cardiac arrest). I remember being stuck on inpatient rehab for 6 month, thinking, dreaming of the world beyond my hospital enclosure. Looking back, I had zero concept, that inpatient rehab was the first of many hurdles in my new world of brain injury rehabilitation.
Over the past few years, I've developed some rather distasteful qualities, or ideals, in my mind, simply asa means of survival. For example my trust/faith in others is relatively diminutive at this point. I find this quite tragic, but I feel that recognition is the first step towards rectifying a problem. I thinks it's because I'm aware of what I view as issues I've incurred from my brain injury, and how I perceive myself now, as well as how I think others perceive me. Relearning social nuances of your world in your mid twenties is pure he'll, from my point of view, though far less frightening than seventh grade, I will say.
I keep thinking about the childhood tale many of us learnt in grade school, about the tortoise and the hare, and how slow, and steady always wins the race. I never had the patience for such an adage, prior to suffering this injury, but now that I am, where I am today. Slow and steady progress has opened countless doors for me, along this journey. Now that I know I won't be stuck in the vice grips of state and federally funded programs for all eternity, I can say I'm strangely grateful for the lessons I've learned along this path. Granted, I'm tremendously unappreciative of the more permanent ramifications, which I may never learn to accept, such as vision loss, and variable mobility. I've learned that 'perfect' is just a pretty word or ideal we all place certain value on, despite it's nonexistence. To me, perfect, is someone else's version of ideal for a given situation. Because, we as individuals, all place different values on different ideals, perfection doesn't actually exist.
Well, here I am philosophizing the night away, and back to my own co rots and ideals. In a fierce wave of impulsive foolishness, I miraculously convinced my mother and father to attend this initial discharge planning meeting, and furthermore, to carpool. I'm fairly certain no one was actually happy in ones others company. What a fun weekend...not.
Don't get me wrong, I could not be happier/ more grateful to still have my parents be willing to make every effort and sacrifice necessary for my well- being. Nothing says love quite like that.