Dear readers, as we approach the end of the year, I just wanted to let all of you know how much I appreciate you.
Nothing makes me happier than when I hear from you and you tell me that you look forward to reading my column or that I always make you smile or laugh (whether with me or at me, it makes no difference). That makes me so happy, because it is all about me.
The other day I was walking, as I do every day, and something happened. I am not sure what, but one minute I was running across Garrison and the next minute I was looking up at a bunch of faces I didn’t recognize and I thought I was having a dream. I could also hear my friend’s voice in the background, and I had no idea how she got there. Long story short, I was in an ambulance. And then I was in the hospital. And, so far, thank God a million zillion times, all the tests have come back okay. Which is wonderful, but also not so helpful in figuring out what the problem is.
As long as it doesn’t happen again, I am fine with that. But here is what I did learn. When you are unconscious, you don’t know it, so I am guessing that means that when you are dead, you don’t know it either. Which, I guess, is a good thing.
It has been a tough year. Back in March, my dad had coded while I was with him, and for a brief amount of time, he was gone. For those brief moments, when I looked into his eyes, I tried to remember the last thing I said to him. Fortunately, he came back, even if the worse for wear. He shared with me that he was dreaming about the camp he went to when he was younger, and then he sang the camp song, much to the amusement of the nurses who had been saving his life. Bizarre, right?
I realize how lucky I am that I got him back. And even though his life is not what is was before, selfishly, I still have him here.
As I lay in the hospital bed, I kept looking at the door, waiting for my tall, handsome dad to walk in and visit me, like he did after I had my babies. I knew that he wasn’t coming to visit me, but I still was hopeful. Being at Holy Name, I had some visitors, people who I have met over the years. One of them, a woman whom I met years ago through a mutual friend, was kind enough to bring me a copy of the Jewish Standard and some things for Shabbos, when we thought I was staying for another night. It made me feel better knowing that I had made others laugh when they were at their worst.
With every test I had, and every person I met, I did my best to amuse them with my routines. Of course my routines were being brought on by severe anxiety and fear — but you gotta do what you gotta do to get through the day. Right?
So as I write this, I am at another doctor, getting more tests. Husband #1 is being amazing — beyond amazing — though I think it is because he is so afraid of something happening to me. Though, I do remember that when he came to the ER, the first thing I said to him was “Please remarry right away if I die.” And I really and truly mean that. He is in big trouble if left to his own devices.
The doctor I was seeing while writing this decided to interject his own gallows humor into my gallows humor, and said, “Well, she will really be Wife #1 if something happens to her!” Ha ha.… Everyone is a comedian.
So to all of my readers, if this is the last column that I write —and hopefully it won’t be — please make sure Husband #1 is taken care of. Please make sure that Sons #2 and 3 marry young ladies as sweet and special as Dil #1, and please remember to tell the people you love, every single day, how much you love them.
Every. Single. Day.
And that is my Chanukah gift to all of you, because I am not allowed to leave my home by myself this week.
Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck would love to know who called 911 and would love to thank the TVAC for coming to my rescue. And to the cute girl with the brown hair and glasses who kept telling me that “Everything is going to be okay,” you are amazing. You are all amazing. And I hope I never need your services again!!!!