Cookie Dough and a Joint
We were psychosis buddies and around the same age, but that’s about all we shared in common. We were rivals as he wore his Alabama shirt and I wore Orange and Blue. Yes, we still “represented” up in the hospital.
Taylor was always sitting in my spot by the window. It was the warmest location on the hall. We just sat on the floor and chatted about random things. Like how he got there.
One day he went to a field with a roll of cookie dough and a joint. The next morning, he’s in the hospital.
“Are you kidding me? That’s how you got here. I just wake up one day and transcend worlds, even with medicine. There is no eating cookie dough or smoking the reefer involved,” I said.
I will note this occurred before God led me to the right doctor with the right treatment. I’ve been in full remission for almost two and a half years. It’s kind of like sobriety day for me.
He was really struggling because he thought he could be Jesus. Ironically, his parents were named Mary and Joseph. He even had the whole long, wavy dirty blonde hair thing going for him.
“You are not Jesus,” I said.
“I mean, it all felt so real. Why couldn’t it be possible?” he said.
“Because Jesus wouldn’t wear a Roll Tide shirt,” I quipped. “And He wouldn’t need cookie dough and a joint to know He was Jesus. But that does explain the shirt.”
I pulled a “Hail Mary” right there. Say what you want about Auburn girls, but we are sharp. Even when we are down with one second to go.
I think he was struggling with a lot of other things. Most people do at some point in their life. Taylor would walk the halls with me and sit at the same table in the cafeteria. He didn’t talk much about the “things” going on with him, but he did advise me about things I didn’t know about myself.
Apparently, I came from the “dangerous” hall. I honestly didn’t remember as I cut in and out of consciousness that night. I vaguely recalled some of the events as he mentioned them. Let’s just say I’m a bit of a comedian, even when unconscious. I remembered the caretakers laughing quite a bit.
But the “dangerous” floor did give me a bit of an edge so no one would mess with me – a little street-cred for the soccer mom.
Honestly, I can laugh about it now. I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried. When it happened originally, I went through a deep depression. I couldn’t tell light from dark or day from night. But every morning God made me get up, fight hard and eventually I could tell when the rooster crowed again.
But it wasn’t easy. I didn’t do it on my own. God never left my side. And neither did my close family and friends. I owe them everything.
But, you know what depression taught me? Those who mourn hard, feel hard. And when you feel hard – you experience joy even harder! And the light is brighter on the other side!
Besides humiliation, Taylor gave me a better gift. He let me know that I had the sun in my eyes – just like him. That was the only other thing we had in common.
One afternoon, we were sitting on the floor by the big window as usual. I mentioned just how gorgeous all of the blue eyes were around the hospital. A lot of the patients had these deep blue eyes, no matter their skin color.
Our eyes are hazel green though and when the light is bright, the pupil of our eyes become the center of the sun with golden rays all around.
I’d never noticed such a beautiful detail God had given me.
How many times had I looked in the mirror, skeptical of what I saw and skipped over the sun?
I bet I’m not the only one who misses the little details.
Taylor was still there the day I left. We waved at each other, giving each other a nod of sportsmanship. I left that day having received one of the greatest gifts.
I made sure to return the favor. I went back the next day and left an anonymous gift of an Auburn jersey for him at the front desk.
True Story! War Damn Eagle!