Confessions of a Therapist

Ten years ago today, I entered the hospital for what ended up being an almost month-long stay. I was suffering from kidney failure related to an autoimmune disease, and because it went misdiagnosed all of my other organs began to fail. I spent most of the time in ICU and came very close to dying, but ultimately recovered completely. I was lucky. (For astrology fans out there, this happened during my Saturn return in Taurus.)

It seems like a very long time ago. There are some things I remember well: My brother's face when he came to visit, reflecting the fear that I would not make it; the way my mom took charge to get me the help I needed, including a transfer to a better hospital; how I, under the influence of some strong medication, told one of my nurses she should really take better care of herself (I regretted that one!); and the phlebotomist/ angel who told me God doesn't give you more than you can handle. I remember the intense sense of freedom I felt when I left hospital number one to drive to hospital number two. I refused to take an ambulence and basically had to sign my life away in order to do so, but that 2 hour car ride was worth it. I begged my husband to stop by a mall so I could do some shopping, but he refused. Still, I felt more like I had just been released from twenty years in prison than a few weeks in ICU during that drive. I also remember packing my bags one morning while in hospital number two so that when my admitting physician came to check on me he would be more likely to let me go home that day. And he did. I appreciated his willingness to listen to my own self-assessment. I knew it was time to leave and recover at home. Anyone who has spent any time in hospitals knows that they are not the most conducive environments for healing.

I wanted to write a blog about how this experience changed me, or how it didn't. To reflect on the memory and gleen some wisdom from having faced death and survived. I don't have anything to say about this, though. I'm not sure how or if it changed me. Whereas at first it shifted my priorites a bit, I soon realized that although it sounds good to live as though you will die tomorrow, there is also something to be said for a long-term perspective. If I were going to die tomorrow, I wouldn't have had the healing session I did this morning, nor would I have updated my accounting software, or taken a young friend/acquaintence to breakfast. I would have, instead, visited with friends or family. Why focus on self-development, accounting, and service to someone you barely know if you are going to leave this world tomorrow? But why not focus on it if you are going to be around a bit longer?

If I ever write a memoir I might call it Confessions of a Therapist. One such confession is that I often feel like a failure for having gone through something like that and not discovered the secret of life or the way to more joy or satisfaction. I know what it is like to almost lose all chances at life and yet I still can't seem to translate this into anything like happiness for myself. I feel like a failure for having almost died and ten years later still not living the life I wish to, or think I'm supposed to. So I keep trying, because really it's all I can do. And whether I learned this lesson or not, the whole near death experience does remind me that we need to take care of ourselves, and our bodies, or they break down. So as I keep trying, I attempt to do so with some semblance of self-compassion and self-care. May be that's all any of us can do?