A COMA IS A FUNNY THING – well, not a funny-ha-ha kind of thing – but it wasn’t what I expected. After her stroke on December 5, 2009, Mary Elizabeth was in a coma for much of December and January – except when she wasn’t. 

In the last few weeks I’ve been going through past blog posts to add tags and categories and it’s amazing to me how much I’ve forgotten already.  It’s also extraordinary how things I’d forgotten are triggered by reading the entries and comments again.

Within a few days of the stroke, Mary Elizabeth would occasionally squeeze her hand when asked to.  She also recognized me as early as December 26 – although at the time she could neither see nor speak.  But then she was gone for almost a month because of infections in her brain and spinal fluid.

Her recovery was far from linear – in fact it felt downright meandering.  Each day brought with it uncertainty about her level of responsiveness and whether she’d be there.  Occasionally, she’d come close to the surface and we’d have a momentary interaction, and then she’d be gone again – unresponsive and unaware.

It was like she was a beautiful mermaid, swimming under water and every now and then she’d come close – sometimes even breaking the surface – only to vanish into the depths a moment later, into her own world – far from ours.

Early on, I got a lot of advice of course and some of it suggested playing music to her.  So I tried playing my iPod, first using the earphones, which she struggled against, and then just laying it next to her head on the pillow.  She didn’t seem to like that either, turning her head away from the music and even frowning sometimes.

So I started to sing to her.  Now I’m not the worst singer around – dogs don’t start howling when I open my mouth – but I’m not very good either.  And my biggest shortcoming is that I can never remember the words.  Never.  It’s ridiculous in fact how few lyrics I retain.  I do know the words of many hymns, through years and years of singing the same ones in school and church, but I didn’t think she would be up for that – even in a coma.

But I knew that she liked the Carpenters (I married her anyway) so I started to sing the only Carpenters song I could think of which was “(They Long to Be) Close to You.”  I’d lean my face close in to her ear and begin singing, “Why do birds suddenly appear, every time you are near? Just like me, they long to be close to you.” And so forth.  I felt a little self-conscious and the nurses definitely thought I was losing it.  I ran out of lyrics pretty quickly and so hummed the song for a while.  Now, I’m not usually one who is deeply moved by 70s pop music – especially not the Carpenters – but I found my self choking up, singing that insipid love song in my wife’s ear, in the medical high dependency unit of Royal London Hospital day after day.

But after all those impromptu performances, it wasn’t until I was re-reading the posts last week and thinking about our situation that the main message of the song hit home – I needed to be close to Mary Elizabeth – no matter what.  Even when she was far away, and unresponsive – when I’d put my wedding ring on her finger and sit for hours having a one-sided conversation – I got something from being close to her.

Our situation has improved 1,000% since those days, with Mary Elizabeth awake, aware and participating fully in family life.  I’ve said this before, but it bears repeating – she is in so many ways the same person she was before the stroke, but is different in many ways as well.  It’s difficult to say, and probably difficult to hear, but it’s really true.  When I’m feeling down, I sometimes wonder who this person is who’s sitting next to me.  Where did my Mary Elizabeth go?  When we don’t connect at all – which happens sometimes – I can get very frustrated and feel like I just want to walk away.  And sometimes I do – usually for a few minutes in the next room.

But then I hear the words of the song in my head , “Why do stars fall down from the sky every time you walk by? Just like me, they long to be close to you” and I realize that no matter what, I need to be with Mary Elizabeth, close to her, by her side, as I have been for the last 20 years.

So I guess I owe a debt of gratitude to the Carpenters, and to you all for your support and kindness over the last few years.