If I wind up in a coma again, I immediately want a CD player, and headphones, playing (favorite music) Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon" and the first Asia album on repeat play--when I am alone. On the tv in the room, I want a DVD player playing (favorite tv show) the 6 "Sportsnight" discs, and occaisionally throw in (favorite movie) "Caddyshack" for a nice change of pace. At night, when the regular lights are off, I want (favorite night-light) at least 3 purple lava lamps in the room. And I want mirrors on the walls, so that if I wake up at night it will look like a DOZEN purple lava lamps in my room; yeah. Beside the mirrors, on the walls, I want (favorite band posters) Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin and the Who posters; also, (favorite women posters) posters of Cindy Crawford and Heather Locklear; take those 3 pictures I keep of my girlfriend and blow them up into posters, too. I want fresh coffee brewed, incense burned, vanilla candles, and Stetson cologne sprayed on me every hour, too. Also, we've got to figure out a way for me to taste chocolate, and bubble gum. Are you getting the idea here? Sensory activation; and this room is going to be so beautiful TO ME that I will HAVE to wake up and enjoy it; I don't have a choice. Okay; these are the "decorations" that I want in my room; now here's what I want people to do for me:
I want friends, family, co-workers; anybody who knows me or knows of me, I want them in my room and talking loudly and happily. Happy Happy, Joy Joy; that's ALL I want around me. No offense to the people who care, but the crying and whining needs to be done out in the hall. And jokes, I want lots of jokes told in my room. In fact, I want comedians--and aspiring comedians--to come and practice their acts in my room; the other people there will laugh and clap and enjoy it. There should also be a cassette deck in the room so that we can listen to (favorite entertainers) tapes of Sam Kinnison, Bill Hicks, and George Carlin. This is not a joke, and I am not making fun of a tragic situation; there NEEDS to be good, strong, happy, loud, comedic energy around me.
Hospital workers; everybody working on my floor has to come in and say "Hello!" to me, loudly, during every shift they work while I am comatose. And I want every (willing) female nurse to speak in her own sexy voice and tell me that "it's time to get up now"; say it loudly once, and then get up in my face and whisper it to me, too. And I want the males to walk in with a frisbee, or a football, and say "Hey Overnight Guy, why don't you get up, and we can go throw some disc/chuck the pigskin? Come on; it'll be fun!" Have them put the frisbee in my hand, too; I want to feel it. Do you see the intent? Everybody has to EXPECT me (the patient) to get up; there is NO other option.
This is creative thinking; we are now, officially, "outside the box". There's no whimpering, there's no "oh you poor thing", and there is NO "well I guess you had a pretty good life". Even while in a coma, a person has 5 senses; and all 5 of them need to be appealed to. And the energy must INSIST that the patient get up and march out of the hospital room. RIGHT NOW you need to do everything you can to make that hospital room--or that section of ICU--as happy, yummy, and familiar as possible to the patient. Later, after everybody is awake and recovering, you can e-mail me and thank my Mom. Now get busy!
Update: The guy who had the accident a couple of months ago is awake and recovering! It turns out that his wife thought, as I have already established, that more things needed to be done to stimulate his senses. A copy of this commentary had been sent to the wife, and she was running errands to go and get items to hopefully "awaken" her husband. Amidst the errands, she had to fill up her gas tank. Accidentally, she forgot to wash the gasoline off of her hands before returning to the hospital. She touched her husband's face, he smelled the gasoline, and immediately woke up! It turns out that her husband was a "gearhead"; a mechanic, and the smell of gasoline is ONE OF HIS FAVORITE SMELLS! Class dismissed; and now we know that NOT ONLY am I a genius, but apparently my Mom is, too. Thank you.
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