Surviving Traumatic Brain Injury

One of the mediators of a Traumatic-Brain-Injury group to which I belong posed a question to all the members. She asked – What makes YOU happy, deliriously happy, sing-out-loud happy, dance-in-the-rain happy? It’s a question not often asked of us caregivers.

I thought for a second. That’s easy. Then my fingers flew over the keyboard as I typed my answer. But, before I hit the “Send” button, I stopped. I thought again. I let the idea roll around my brain for a few moments and reconsidered the question. What makes YOU happy, deliriously happy, whoop-to-the-moon happy? Was this a trick question?

I knew what would make me over-the-top happy. That would be for my husband, David, to be better – for me to wake up one morning and see him walk and run and drive again, hear him talk without his raspy voice, and never again fear that he will aspirate his food. Yes, that would make me crazy-happy. But, I knew that was not what she meant. I can almost guarantee that every one of us caregivers would have offered a version of the same answer. And, then her question would have become rather boring.

I considered some possibilities. I know many women take solace in going to the salon, to be pampered – a new haircut, a mani/pedi, a spa day with massage and facial. But for me, those are chores. In fact, I did do a mani/pedi today, and I couldn’t wait to get out of the salon. I know! Most would think I’m nuts. So, I pondered a while longer. What would make me gloriously happy???? Something just for me! And I knew! I knew from the moment my fingers first hit the keys. (I’m glad I didn’t delete my answer.) Having my book published! That would do it! That would make me deliriously happy, sing-out-loud happy, dance-in-the-rain happy. It would make me whoop-to-the-moon happy. Seeing my book, “Prisoner Without Bars: Conquering Traumatic Brain Injury,” in print on the shelves next to Lee and Bob Woodruff’s “In An Instant,” Su Meck’s “I Forgot To Remember,” Gabriele Gifford and Mark Kelly’s “Gabby,” or Trisha Meile’s “I Am The Central Park Jogger” would make me gloriously, over-the-top happy. I bet you’d hear me whooping all the way to Nova Scotia and all parts in between.

In the meantime, I can be very happy when I finish writing a really good blog post (like this one), and folks stop by to read it, offer comments, and share it with their friends. Yep, that would make me happy too … but not as happy as a book contract.

As I say after each post:

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(Clip Art compliments of Bing.)