Conscious

Conscious: (adj) the state of being awake and aware

In a spirit of candor, I will tell you that it is much easier to discuss pain when it is not your own.

Speaking of it in the abstract does afford an opportunity to be philosophical instead of devastated. So I preface my comments today with that realization.

My son was hit and run by a car and suffered a severe brain trauma which left him in a coma, unconscious.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

We stayed with him, we loved him, we prayed for him–even though the doctors felt the prognosis was grim. We were about a month-and-a-half into the experience when I asked a nurse when my son would come out of the coma.

I just wanted her opinion.

She looked at me, surprised, and said, “I thought you knew. He’s been out of the coma for about a week.”

I was bewildered.

You see, the reason for my confusion was that the young fellow was not responsive, couldn’t communicate and just stared off in the distance.

I assumed there was more work to be done, but the nurse explained that the coma was over and that he was conscious–but the accident had robbed him of skills and brain-power.

After she told me this, I looked at him carefully and realized that he was exhibiting waking and sleeping periods, and that there seemed to be some presence of life–but no conscious effort to reach out of the shell of his body.

It was frightening, debilitating and agonizing.

It is a great gift–to be alive.

It is even a greater bestowal–to be able to hear and receive information.

But we must never forget how blessed we truly are–to be conscious of the world around us, and able to offer a response.

 

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Coma

Coma: (n) a state of deep unconsciousness that lasts for a prolonged or indefinite period

Vigilant.

It is the most frustrating, mystifying and perhaps unachievable emotion available in the human heart–to continue to pursue a path of behavior and passion with no evidence that such devotion will ever guarantee success.

When my son was in a hit-and-run accident, he suffered a severe brain injury which placed him in a coma.

I was very young, and not just in years. I was young to the idea of inconveniencing myself.

Even though television portrays dutiful family members staying by the bedside of their loved one who is in a coma, the TV dramas only dwell in that lonely, still room for thirty seconds or so.

The silence is maddening.

Some nurses told me that people in a coma can hear, and others said there was absolutely no medical evidence that the patient has any awareness of the outside world at all. I stayed by his bedside.

Minutes were hours.

Hours, days.

And the days seemed like years.

I hated it. I felt like I was putting on a show for those around me by perching next to the unresponsive body of my young son, pretending to create a connection.

To my regret, I often slipped away early or arrived late.

A coma is when a human separates from us before drawing his or her last breath, letting us know how fragile life truly is.

My son finally did emerge from his coma, only to live in a vegetative state for about six years. The only thing he gained was an obvious function to feel more pain.

A horrible experience.

At times I have tried to glean some value from it, but ultimately, in my more cognitive perceptions, I declare it darkness.

 

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Abstain

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Abstain: (v.) to restrain oneself from doing or enjoying something 2. to formally decline to vote either for or against a proposal or motion

l have discovered the quickest way to make sure that I eat a chocolate candy bar in the next twenty-four hours. All I have to do is promise to abstain from them.

This works with almost anything else, too. It’s like the decision to abstain is really similar to purchasing a billboard in your brain to advertise the product. Once I’m convinced that I’m deprived, it’s is an easy journey to convince myself that the deprivation is … terminal.

This is why I have to giggle when people talk to me about encouraging teenagers to take the “vow of abstinence.”

When I was sixteen years old, I only thought about two things: food and sex. And most of the time, in some bizarre way, I mingled them.

So to turn to an adolescent and suggest that he or she should make a vow of celibacy when they are sitting on a raging reservoir of tempestuous hormones is to create the tiny cracks in the dam of their resistance, which will certainly lead to a flood of error.

I raised a whole bunch of boys. Here’s what I found out about their appetites: unless they were totally exhausted, ready to fall into bed, to enter a coma of sleep, they were constantly pursuing, through their curiosity, the entire panorama of feminine mystique. To eliminate the power of exhaustion from a teenager is to grant them license to explore their lusts to an inevitable result. (After all, the Catholic church has learned that asking its clergy to abstain from the “pleasures of the flesh” does NOT mean that they will not find divergent methods.)

Abstain is a funny word–and by funny, I mean strange, unusual and not particularly helpful.

I taught my sons to be busy, active and to burn off a lot of their physical energy instead of sitting around studying all the time, having temptation lure them into porn sites on the Internet. I also instructed them in the intelligence of masturbation as an alternative to becoming a daddy with pimples. It was quite successful.

And when I sensed that they were still bursting and bubbling with sexuality, I sat down with them to talk and giggle about it until they were saturated and once again ready for a good night’s sleep.

Abstain. It’s a word old people impose on the younger of our flock–once the elder rams have lost interest in what now preoccupies the young bucks.

Like I said … it’s a funny word.