I heard what I was telling the nurse and I thought my hospital roommates must be thinking that I was lying.  I felt like the guy from Big Fish or Forrest Gump re-telling their unrealistic tales of adventures. I was just a regular psych-patient telling the nurse a story, as she ran food and medicine through my feeding tube.  Each shift was a new nurse that got a different story from me. The thing is, the stories were all true. They were all from this one life of mine. 

With one nurse, I referred to my days at Hollywood Studios as I played Mickey and/or Minnie mouse.  For another nurse, I told of how I used to be a ‘soccer’ mom that drove around town with my two blonde-headed children in my automatic-everything minivan. Then there were the days that I was the owner of a paint-your-own-pottery shop.  I think I talked to one of the nurses about my time at Sunset Celebration in Key West, where I peddled my glass art from my cart, as a vendor by the street performers in the evening.

The stories were experienced by the ‘old Noelle’.  I was just answering the nurses questions. My medical trauma left me with the feeding tube, depression and a host of other ailments. I lost a lot of things physically due to the stroke. Hence, one of my psych stays in the hospital.  It is severely depressing going from everything to nothing.  

Years later, I found the same thing happening again. I started talking about the restaurant in Key West after talking about the pottery studio.  April, the home health aid, saw the Writer’s Market book on my bed and looked at me. April chuckled. And there it was again. I was repeating some of the events from my life, and it sounded like I was lying. Did I mentioned I was a freelance writer?  There was that time I was editor in Southern Living’s custom publishing department.

When I was 21, my grandmother died. ‘Gram’ was my first experience in life with death. I was very close with her. My sister and I spent a lot of time with our grandmother and had a great relationship. We spent some weekends over at her house.  We played games and old card games. I had my license and a car that I drove all around the town with my friends.  Before Gram died, she kept asking me to take her to Friendly’s for lunch and a milkshake.  She asked me several times, if we could go but I pushed her off. I had cool things to do at 21 with my friends.

I never made time for that simple lunch with Gram. Her health took an unexpected turn and she passed away. Gram died. I never took her up on the offer to Friendly’s and it absolutely devastated me.  After that I made a promise to myself. I promised I was not going to live my life with that feeling again. No regrets on missing out. When the chance comes around, I want to blow it out. I want to do everything because the time will come when the window closes.

Through it all, I really tried to live a good story. Or stories. I always joke, I don’t want to be on my deathbed and look back at my life and regret that it was boring.  My advice to those who have suffered a medical trauma- live a good story. You’ve been up close and personal to life altering circumstances. There is no time like the present. We are not promised tomorrow. We can go at any time, just like Gram left unexpectedly. Don’t leave the meal unfinished at Friendly’s.

 Make sure you order the appetizer, milkshake, sandwich and ice cream with the person you love before it’s too late. Are there things you wish you had done or are there things that you left unfinished? The solution is to never let that happen again. Flood each situation with your passion for life when opportunities arises. Don’t walk away with regret no matter what is the level of your ability. I found an Erma Brombeck quote and memorized it. “When I stand before God, at the end of my life, I would hope I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, ‘I used everything you gave me’.”