Inspired Series: Holding onto those attitude-changing moments

“I got to work early. I was in my street clothes, so I went into the family bathroom to change.”

“And I think this was a God thing because all the regular bathrooms were full.”

Usually we call unforeseen miracles or survivors of seemingly unrecoverable diseases “God things.”

But to Mary, the fact that the only available bathrooms at the store were the family ones revitalized her faith in God. 

Because minutes later, the aneurysm in Mary’s brain burst. She collapsed on the floor, at the mercy of the quickest night shift worker to notice that the family bathroom had been locked for hours. 

And if “I was in a regular bathroom, I don’t think anyone would have discovered me.”

During those hours on the ground , the ruptured aneurysm, the bulge in the blood vessel that popped, started leaking copious amounts of blood throughout Mary’s brain. 

Even by just hearing the description of this occurrence, you can grasp the difficulty and rarity of recovery from such a medical event. 

"4%."

That’s the survival rate. 

The surgeon, who made Mary part of that 4%, stood in front of Mary for her first moments of consciousness. Recognizing the confusion and haziness as Mary wondered who “the hell” he was, the surgeon held her hand tightly and said “Mary, you survived a brain aneurysm.” 

As she let these words sink in, understanding that what started as a sure-fire cause of death can now be remembered by the two small, post-surgery divots in her skull, Mary realized that “she was a walking miracle.”

And, from every interaction I’ve had with Mary, I can say that she certainly treats every day like she is. 

Although she must permanently reside in an advanced care facility, suffers from short-term memory loss, lost her ability to work again, and can no longer spend facetime with her family due to her facility’s COVID-19 lockdown, Mary is full of positivity. 

How?

Gratitude. 

“I am blessed to see every new day.”

And the joys you feel from just being alive deserve to be shared, Mary emphasized. 

“I’ll ask people, do you have 11 fingers? They say no. But I say yes, I can prove it to you. I have 11 fingers, count backwards with me starting with the pinky 10, 9, 8, 7, 6. How much is that? Six? And your other hand has five? Oh my God, I told you you had 11 fingers!”

“And they laugh. And you feel good when you laugh.”

What Mary often notes as one of the pillars to her post-aneurysm optimism is her experience during her week-long coma. When, she shares, she met God. 

“God has green eyes, a white beard, white hair and a white robe all the way down to his ankles and he’s got soft brown skin.” 

“He said he didn't want me yet.”

“And then,” Mary chuckled, “I asked him if I could live to be a healthy 100. He said he’d see what he could do.”

Although it may not be God or religion, there is often an unexpected source of faith or experience that shakes us with a new-found appreciation for life. Maybe it’s a heart attack, maybe it’s reading a book that shapes you, maybe it’s traveling to a city, maybe it’s having a conversation with a stranger. 

These moments don’t seem to follow a logical pattern, they just sort of happen. 

And they don't have to be as grand or extreme as an epiphany during a medically-induced coma, they don’t have to be long-lasting, and they don’t have to be understood by anyone else. 

They’re subjective moments that “can” lead to clarity. 

And like Mary, who refers to her aneurysm as the reason for her changed attitude, we should try to make that “can” a “do” as much as possible. 

Instead of treating these experiences as fleeting, Mary highlights that allowing these moments to shape us comes from reminding ourselves of them often and implementing life-long changes from them. These two things can give us the strength, courage, and confidence to live our lives as changed people. 

“I always wake up, thankful to God that I woke up the next day and I never go to bed without saying prayers,” Mary shares. 

It takes her five minutes to do every day but reminds her of the moment that changed her attitude. 

Hold onto those moments.