April 28, 2019
“Try Meditation”
Ah, that’s better. Now, about last
week’s article. Who can remember? I sure can’t. I intended to write about being
in the hospital after having an appendectomy and a physical inspection of a
20-foot length of wet rope called “my small intestines.” The surgeon saw a
couple of things attached to my intestines that didn’t belong, so removed ‘em,
right after yanking my appendix. If I hadn’t been asleep at the time, I
would’ve fought that man tooth and nail.
Because of the surgeon’s discovery,
I had to visit an oncologist this afternoon. Until a few years ago, I thought
an oncologist was a person who played a particular wind instrument in an
orchestra. I’ve learned so much over the years. Anyway, in a few weeks, the
doctor is going to fill me with a bunch of dye, and then shoot me with a bazillion
protons that will light up any cancerous areas. I asked him if my brain would
be part of the area tested. He said it wouldn’t, and then asked why I asked.
I came up with a couple of sarcastic
comebacks. – “I wanted to know if it would be a waste of time for me to learn
to play the guitar.” or “I was hoping you could tie into the part of my brain
that remembers where all of our lost spoons ended up. However, while I’ve seen
several good comedians that came out of India, I thought it a bad time to test
the good doctor’s fondness for levity. So, I told him I was concerned about
Alzheimer's… even though I’m not.
Well, actually, I am a little
concerned. I just don’t want to know if I’ve got it. If I were told I was in
the first stage of Alzheimer’s, I would immediately skip through to phase
eight. If the doctor informed me a week later that his diagnosis was in error,
he would discover that I had already fulfilled his diagnosis. I once got a
kidney stone after hearing a guy describe his kidney stone experience. My body
is so easily influenced.
After I mentioned Alzheimer’s, the
doctor told me that there are ways to curtail Alzheimer’s. Eat more vegetables
and less meat. -- He sounded like the owner of a Chinese buffet. -- He
suggested I tax my brain with puzzles and the like, and get plenty of rest. --
I mean exercise. I always get those two mixed up.
Then the doctor recommended
meditation. Seek the place in your mind that produces mental clarity and
emotional comfort. If the doctor had the time, I would’ve told him about what
all my brain uncovered while I was in the hospital.
I didn’t care about reading, writing
or watching TV. I wasn’t even a big fan of answering questions. -- “Mr. Hayter,
would you care to sit in the chair by the window?” – I had no idea. There was
no comfort to be found anywhere in my room. But in my brain? Oh, yeah, there’s
plenty of stuff in there.
I’m fairly sure the meds had
something to do with the mental images that often appeared when I shut my eyes.
On several occasions, I saw the smiling faces
of people I didn’t even know. They just stared for a moment, and then
disappeared, only to be replaced by another charming soul.
The same thing happened with scenes
of various landscapes, some familiar, most not so much. I could scan an entire
panorama with my eyes shut. Normally, when my mind displays a scene, I never
get to focus on individual objects. If I try, the scene disappears right before
my closed eyes. However, while in the hospital, the scenes allowed me to look
around.
The best of all moments occurred while
I was sleeping. I think they’re called dreams, but these were super special
dreams. As I’ve mentioned more than once, my dreams stink on ice. The worst-case
scenario occurs in every one of my dreams. Whether I’m teaching, driving,
shopping, or at church, something horrible happens. Each time when I wake up,
I’m so relieved to find it only a dream.
However, while in the hospital, each
dream was a peach. I kid you not, my mind was creating some fascinating
stories. During the happenings, I tried to make mental notes about everything.
Each dream was a novel or movie yet to be created. And the dialog was
exceptional. Of course, upon awakening, I had lost a great deal of each story.
I thought about creating a montage of the occurrences, but I’m not a fan of the
montage. I don’t even like the word montage. So, what say we quit repeating it?
While the drug-induced meditation and dreams were a good side
effect of my hospital visit, I’ve come to grips with the thought that
everything about my stay was helpful. Poet Maya Angelou once wrote, “You are the sum total of
everything you've ever seen, heard, eaten, smelled, been told, forgot - it's
all there.”
So,
had my health issue not occurred, I’d be less of a person. As is, I’ve seen
fire and I’ve seen rain. But I didn’t see any lonely times when I could not
find a friend. That’s one of the lessons learned from pain. I don’t know what I
did to deserve all of the cards, visits, prayers, and well wishes, but each is
now a part of the sum total of me. Blessed is what I am.
end
You can
contact Mark hayter.mark@gmail.com
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