Continuation of Yocheved Golani's outstanding essay
License to Cry
We learn from the Talmud in Bava Metzia 59a "Even though the Gates of Prayer are closed (after the destruction of the grand Jewish Temple called Bait HaMikdash), the Gates of Tears are never closed."
GOD keeps the Gate of Tears open so we will cry to Him. Crying is part of our relationship with Him.
A medical crisis - you'd cry too, if it happened to you. Use your tissues and handkerchiefs with my blessings borne of experience. HaShem gives you Permission to Weep. And you can say that to any critics after explaining that "It's MY Crisis and I'll Cry if I Need To."
Hello, GOD, Hear Me Sing
I spent a lot of time planning strategies preceding my admission to the hospital, for my hospital stay and my return home. I prepared lists of foods and medicines to which I'm allergic so the information could be displayed over my hospital bed. I instructed friends about how to greet me as I came out of anesthesia. The song that I'd requested, "Kol haolam kulo," would remind me not to panic. I sang it often after surgery. I'm probably humming it as you read this essay.
Attract Happiness. It's a Mitzvah and a Medicine
It was hard to perform the mitzvah of "Ivdu et HaShem b'simcha." I was terrified. Just as Rabbi Brody advises in "Trail to Tranquility," I spent my time with a new hobby: being happy. I literally made a point of forcing myself to say upbeat things about the weather, food, sights and sounds, so I could reprogram my brain to think happy thoughts. If I gave in to dwelling on my fears that I might die during surgery or ending up paralyzed forever (realistic problems at the time), then I could have destroyed my will to live. The intentional habit paid off.
I became confident that HaShem would save me and that I'd have a life worth living again. I gave Him something to work with so that He could save upbeat me instead of salvaging (or possibly losing) the emotional wreck I could have become. Each time I had to be at the hospital to prepare paperwork or to see a doctor, I treated myself to a kosher fruit Smoothie. Focusing on the nutrition, pretty colors and taste eased my mind during painful and frightening doctor visits. The medical staff was almost incredulous to learn that I do not smoke or drink as a rule, and that I had not turned to substance abuse by the time I'd reached the hospital for surgery. "I bury my anxiety in fruit Smoothies, chocolate and pleasant music," I told them. "And I pray a lot when I eat and listen. I pray a lot besides that, too."
I was weak after the operation. I needed months of physical therapy, speech therapy, housekeeping assistance and help getting dressed. I compensated for the limitations by playing music, asking for and receiving soothing foot rubs. I learned to dance rhythmically when I performed my muscle-strengthening exercises. I made brain jokes with my therapists. In brief, I drowned my fear in cheerful conduct and giggles. I convinced myself that my future was improving. It did. People flocked to be with me and to increase my happiness.
The secret to my happiness was pretending that I felt cheerful until I did feel happy. Then, happiness poured from my soul, spontaneously. Miracle upon miracle fell onto my body and soul. I made an astounding recovery in physical and mental ways, against great odds for such success.
Several people asked me to write a book about my recovery experience. They found it inspiring. I accepted the challenge. Writing the book became a catharsis. that made me smile as I realized how far I'd come since the day I'd learned my diagnosis.
To be continued after Shabbat, G-d willing
