The Band Played On….
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The Band Played On….
Hey there Taverneers. Sunday I crawled out of my hole, saw my shadow; it scared me so much, I crawled back in. When you live in hospitals, and everything else you do revolves around going to and from or being at the hospital, or dueling with the medical industrial complex, you start to feel like Bill Murray in “Groundhog Day.” But just every once in a while you encounter a special grace that makes the ordeal…somehow worth the effort. You end up the prospector who after months on his knees in a muddy stream, finally scores a gold nugget. Long story short, Trish is doing about as well as someone with a traumatic brain injury can be, everything else complicating things aside. The medical intelligencia still has no idea what happened to Trish to cause such a massive brain bleed, but worse, they for sure have no idea how long it takes to get over it. Progress is heartbreakingly slow, and some days it’s two steps forward and three steps back. But today, I was helping Trish eat her breakfast, and she commented, that I was working too hard. I responded, “That ain’t working,” to which she replied, to my utter amazement, “That’s the way you do it; you play the geetar on the MTV.” (Apologies to Dire Straits’ “Money for Nothing.”) Anyway that got the ball rolling. We started listening to her favorite music on my tablet, and lo and behold, she sang along, word for word. She knew them all. It’s the first time we’ve had a “fun” moment since the surgery. Don’t get me wrong, every time I get to see Trish, it’s a gift. But this was different. It was enjoyment on a different level. Mike always talks about how therapeutic music is, and today it was good medicine. No matter how serious the injury, or how slow the overall healing process seems to be, a big thing which Trish and I have long shared, and both loved, individually and together as soulmates, was still in tact. The injury nearly took her life; but it didn’t take her (our) music. When the fellow who takes my parking money at the hospital said, “You have a blessed day, Mr. Acker,” he had no idea how prophetic he was being. Like Robert Hunter of the Grateful Dead wrote, in his monumental and healing classic “Ripple,” “Let there be songs to fill the air….” Can I get an Amen?
- This discussion was modified 7 months, 2 weeks ago by Dana Acker.
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