Your Blessed Brain

and a Blessed Friendship

In 2005, my best friend since the 8th grade, Gigie McPherson, died of a brain tumor. It had been a long five-year battle. Her husband left a message that this would be Gigie’s final week, and I flew to Colorado the next day. I cried a lot and tried to prepare myself for this experience. I imagined I would sit at her bedside until the end, holding her hand and making her laugh.

I walked slowly up to her front door when all of a sudden the door swung open and there she was! Standing up, dressed for a hike, walking stick in her right hand. “Hello! Let’s go!” she exclaimed. Suddenly, we were walking in the Garden of the Gods. She moved a little slower, and we had to take many breaks, but other than that, you would never know this person was at death’s door. It was interesting being together in person because we had to talk over the phone for the last five years. Her tumor was in the area of the brain that stores long-term memories. She called it the nostalgia part of her brain. If she “saw the past,” she would go into a seizure. Her future was very uncertain, so we didn’t go there much. Talking about the present while being in the present is very meta. There isn’t much to say. It just is. You could say, “Do you hear those birds?” “Are you hungry?” “Look at that cloud!” Other than that, being is just being.

Her husband said that as soon as she found out I was coming, she rallied. Our hike was the last time she would leave the house. I still have my 2005 flip phone with our last pictures together. I can’t access the photos, so I see her in my mind. She is sitting in a warm patch of sun, basking in the orange glow around her.

I saw her a few more times before I left town. Once back in LA, it became difficult to reach her as she was in and out of consciousness, and her husband wasn’t returning my calls. Finally, her mom reached out to say that Gigie wanted to talk.

The timing could not have been worse. I was driving north up the 5 freeway between Los Angeles and San Francisco. There is a flat part of the 5 where cell reception is terrible. There was no place to pull over, so I had to keep moving forward. My best friend was dying, and we were having what would be our last conversation. She obviously didn’t have a future, so there was nothing to say there. Her voice was weak. She said she wanted to hear my voice and to tell her what I was seeing. If you have been on this part of the 5, you will understand how challenging this assignment was, as it is entirely flat and plain.

To add to the pressure, during this call, at the worst times, my phone would cut out, and I would have to call her back. After the third time, laughing at the horror of it all, we decided to end our call. “Goodbye,” she said. “I love you, Magoo.” “I love you, Gigie.”

For the last 20 years, since this experience, I’ve been fascinated by the brain. If you coach with me, you know I’m always going on and on about the brain, but it is truly extraordinary.

This was the moment I understood that the brain has compartments that do very important things. It stores information and facilitates actions. It is amazing, and many of us don’t know enough about it. In fact, many of us believe our brains torture us! (That’s usually our egoic mind, not our brain, but that’s another story.) It wasn’t that I hadn’t heard everything about the brain, but now the learning really stuck.

Over the next month, I’m going to focus on various parts of the brain and how they relate to our communication and connection with others. I’m hoping that you connect to your own noggin and your listeners’ noggins as well.

In the meantime, please take a moment to bless your beautiful brain and relish all that it does.

Jo

jomcginley333@gmail.com

www.333-communications.com