This is a play off the pun 'Cleopatra, queen of denial'; this week I was challenged to examine if I'm in sort of denial in terms of my coming to grips with the fact that I was attacked by someone with an intent to kill me, and I did in fact suffer a wound that should have killed me. I think I mentioned that I have a friend who (unbeknownst to me at the time) used to be a coroner, and when he examined my scar, his first comment was: "you're lucky to be alive." That was the first clue of the seriousness of my wound - no one at the hospital said a word to me up to when they discharged me. I think that's a large part of why it's always seemed somewhat surreal - the nonchalance of it all. Oh, you just happened to suffer an injury that kept you in ICU for the better part of a week, no big deal.
My mentor (who I meet with every two weeks) has observed that I've wrapped up everything neatly at an intellectual level, Early on I was able to depersonalize the event and ascribe a motive that I categorized as displaced anger. Or as my mentor might describe it, I found an answer that I could accept. But have I really looked into the abyss? Do i need to? Where exactly is this abyss? Does it mean going out to Patton State Hospital and looking into the face of my attacker?
I'd like to think that my willingness to consider the idea means I'm not in denial about any of this. But this is pretty much how I operate in moments of stress; I go into a zone and compartmentalize my emotions. I've been as much focused on the health of Tuesday nights as much as my own recovery. But then I am Tuesday nights in many ways - I've let it define me. Am I still in triage mode years later? I honestly don't know right now.
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