Go to Jail, Don't Pass Go

 

Winter Bouquet, coloured pencil, 12" x 9"

Blog 1 2022



On December 14, 2021, my world changed in seconds when our dog, Shadow, pulled me down the stairs chasing after a squirrel. The fall landed me in hospital, my first time aside from giving birth to our children.

Time in a hospital was very stressful. Over the past two years, I have gotten used to a quiet home where our puppy, Shadow, is the primary source of entertainment. At the hospital, many different nurses took care of me. Some I saw for a couple of shifts, others I only saw once. I felt very alone even though a hospital is a noisy place. The nights were long because the pain and the noise on the floor kept me from sleeping. One person was screaming in pain for hours, instruments beeping, nurses taking vitals and giving medication. Most of the nights, I was awake for hours. Even sleeping pills did not help. I could hardly wait for the sky to lighten up.

I was a prisoner in a bed. I was stuck in one position, lying on my back. I could not even adjust my legs because I could not move my left leg. Luckily, I could put myself in a semi-seated position with the help of the electric hospital bed and the bedrails. It is amazing how few thoughts we spend on marveling about all we can do until we cannot do them anymore. Luckily, I had only abrasions on my hands and a sore left shoulder, so I could still keep myself busy.

Especially in the early morning hours of the first couple of days, I cried quite a lot. The pain and the self-pity for all that was lost and the slow recovery ahead of me crushed me. I feared that all the hard work I had put into the last year would be for nothing. I was afraid that I would never keep up with my husband in our activities again. I feared that Shadow would not pay attention to me anymore because I could not care for him for a long time. Once, I picked myself up again. I read a bit, practiced Spanish and drew whatever was around me. Luckily, my in-laws had sent a beautiful winter bouquet that brought colour into the room.

Starting with the second day on the floor, I did my physio exercises dutifully. Once or twice a day, the nurses transferred me with a turning device to a chair. Once Ingo dropped off my laptop, I wrote tons of emails cancelling all kinds of appointments and tried to keep up with my regular posts. However, only when I picked up my drawing materials did I lose myself and forget about my dreary situation for a while. I only finished the coloured pencil drawing of the beautiful flower bouquet after returning home because I could only sit for about two hours each day. Coloured pencil drawings take even longer than needle felted artworks. They require patience, something I need a lot of these days.

On the sunny days, time passed fast when I enjoyed long naps warmed by the rays hitting my bed.

I was so glad when my husband and daughter and later my son came to visit. Nobody could tell me how long I would have to stay in the hospital. I worked hard with the health professionals to be released before Christmas, especially when most nurses suddenly started wearing two masks. Two days before Christmas Eve, I could indeed leave the hospital with a private transport organization due to the need to transport me on a stretcher and up the stairs to our house.


I find it very amusing that you use the same word in English to describe someone who has patience and for the person receiving medical treatment. What helps you to stay patient when things don't go as expected?