The life in the diary – IV

Fiction

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February 6, 2013

I am in the hospital bed – my surgery was two days ago. I woke up 2 hours after it. The doctor did not visit me yet, but one of the residents did. She said the doctor did a good job and the surgery went well. My vital statistics are good and I am into recovery. I will stay in the hospital a couple of more days just to make sure there is no serious post-surgery concerns before I can be released. The resident says my doctor will tell me the future course of my medical care. I am waiting; it has been two days with no sign. I feel deprived but at the same time, I do not care. If it was a serious issue, I am sure my doctor would just fire the news.

The bed is not bad but the other patient in the room is noisy – I am happy for her that she has visitors; everybody needs that. But I am not happy with the long loud phone conversations. I feel like I know her entire ordeal, which is dare. She has broken her ankle and it got infected. I have seen the foot – it is all brownish, reddish, blackish colour. I felt for her. She hopes to get our of this without losing her foot. I totally understand and wish her good. I seem to be doing better than her.

I feel a lot better now prior to the surgery. I am not shaky or scared anymore. I am sure the surgery removed the bad cells and we will do our best to remove the rest too. It is good that the bulk of them is gone, the task at hand seems easier now. I know deep down that I will handle that well. It will be over sometime.

I have three different nurses come and check me, draw blood to do the tests. They are so nice; nurses should be given a higher level of respect and appreciation. For a patient there is nothing better than a smiling and affectionate look and words. On one occasion each, two of the nurses almost made me cry. The first one was a nurse who was trying to withdraw blood and was not able to find the vein or get the blood in two trials. She had to go thru my hand and she apologized for it. It was thin butterfly syringe that is really kind to my nerves. And when the nurse saw the blood filling the vial, she exclaimed with joy and said “bull’s eye!”. She is a sweetheart and I am wishing the best of everything for her. The second nurse I have seen only once so far and she asked me whether I would like her to help me with my bath and wash my back…. I wanted to cry so hard…. Affection is the kindest act ever. May she find happiness, health, and whatever she is wishing in life.

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The life in the diary – IV

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The life in the diary – III

Fiction

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January 29, 2013

I went to pre-surgery check up today. I am not a fan of these visits – they ask all bunch of questions, some of them I do not even have an answer. Do I have any allergy to medication? How would I know if I am allergic to something if I have not discovered it yet? I think they have to ask these questions, but it does not help really. I need answers myself. Sadly, nobody would give a concrete answer to what would happen to me; my doctor should know better, this visit is about the surgery. Fine. I will ask her when I am not shaky. In the mean time, they advise me to relax. Sure. Why not? And the usual advise, too; have someone to pick you up from the hospital – the general anaesthesia and the surgery can make you dizzy and weak – better someone gives you a hand. Sure. I did not tell them I did not plan to have anyone with me.

I should thank these pre-surgery visits actually – a little bit anger helps me to keep going. This appointment was better than the first time. I had felt like a victim at that time; now I seasoned. I know what to expect, what to feel.

I did not tell anyone yet about my ordeal – does my boss need to know? I am not ready to talk about it right now. The best thing I can do is to try to finish critical things as soon as possible, if I can, and then let the talking be done at the least unavoidable time. That is the best solution I have right now.

I have a surgery in 6 days – I better take care of the grocery shopping. I need to get slippers and a bed rob for the hospital stay, too. I wonder what happened to the rob I had purchased last time. Cannot remember it at home. I will walk pass the store I had bought them last time. If I am lucky, I can find new ones there. I admit despite all the emotional turbulence and the anxiety, there is something calming about shopping; I feel like I am taking care of myself.

Whether it is shopping, or I am extremely relieved to be out of the appointment, or am angry with the questions and all, I do not know what, but I feel a little bit strong walking. I keep telling myself “I will do my absolute best to support myself during these difficult times. Yes, I will. Watch me.”

Better said than done.

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The life in the diary – III

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The life in the diary – II

Fiction

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January 26, 2013 – continued

I came home. As I predicted, yes I have cried as soon as I left my doctor’s office. There were people around, I am sure they knew why. I did not care – there is a sweet freedom in not caring what others think.

Yet I was shaky; eyes wet, feet dragging each other. I felt the need to distract, pamper myself. I think I bought a cup of coffee and a muffin from the Second Cup located on the main floor of the hospital. Patients, visitors, staff, and nurses/doctors are all mixed up in the line up. It is interesting how we all wait our turn – no matter what we are, how we are. Just yesterday I was in the same line up, all tensed up and absent minded thinking about the work, the issues, and how to get over them. Yesterday, it turns out, had been a fine day.

My misery today is due the prospect of future desperation. What am I going to do? This question is brutal… Particularly when I do not know the answer. When there is no one around to ask a hand. I will have to figure out a lot of things myself… Maybe it is good. Maybe it will force me to get out of my chain of thoughts. What else can I hope for?

I walked up to home; half crying, half hurrying. Home is as usual welcoming and warm. I just threw myself on the couch, holding my face between my hands, my legs crawled to my belly.

I cried like an unborn child.

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The life in the diary – II

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The life in the diary – I

Fiction

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October 8, 2014

I do not know what to say any more – I felt like whatever I thought so far, I put in writing.
Though it is possible that if I had written more,  I could have discovered more. Said more. I just cannot continue.
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January 26, 2013

My doctor is optimistic; she says I will be fine at no time. It came back, so what?  I am not worried, I have done this before. Yet, I know as soon as I step out of the door, I will start crying. Because it feels unfair.

The first days are complete shock. Being told that you are sick and need immediate medical care is….weird or something…..Its meaning is so thick, so heavy; reality does not sink for some time.

After that, it changes you though. Priorities change for one; I do not care about work that much for example; it does not fill in my entire mind or future worries. No. Neither the fences that I was planning to paint nowadays. I do not care. Let them rot. I hope though I will not lose my job along the way; I need the insurance and the salary. That is the most critical thing I need to keep now.

Will I need someone to care for me at home? Will I be able to find someone to do so? Can I afford it? Who will shop or cook for me? Will I be able to find any friends around me?
But no; let’s not think about these yet.

Not yet.

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The life in the diary – I

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if you ever need to undergo a surgery alone

if you ever need to undergo  a surgery alone, I want you to know that you are a strong and determined person. You will handle it to your best. And when you leave the hospital, however tired or weak you may be, you will know that you have done an extraordinary thing. Be proud of yourself – you way deserve it.

it is gonna be okay, I gotta say

I want to lie down tonite

feeling sick, as if something is coming

a bug, a tiredness, something

no tea, no soup, no nothing

is gonna make it better

just need to lie down

warm and silent

under a blanket

lights dimmed to help my eyes

rested and my body and mind

feeling contemplations

it is gonna be okay, I gotta say

holding my own head

checking my fever

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Sasha – part 2

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Where shall I start?

The beginning is too long ago; but maybe the most impactful will make it. I was mid 30s unhappy with my job. We all thought that we would have opportunities to move up within a pretty reasonable period of time. But we did not. The economy was not good and works for people like us were highly competitive. I had this desperate wish to leave my current work place and move to somewhere else with a better level of job, respect, and financial prosperity.

Well, it did not happen and I got more and more agitated. I started to have problems at my current work place; I was good at what I have done but I was not particularly a pleasant person. So people working with me, specifically my boss, were having a hard time to deal with my career-frustrations. I lost my motivation quite a bit and decided to do something else, mostly to get away from my work place. Hence, I started studying French language. My aim was to have a feeling of how much I could get into it and if I was into it at a sufficient level, then to attend a course to learn it. I was buying the books and listening to the CDs for pronunciations. I could turn the TV on French channels and try to grasp. It was all fun.

What I have not seen coming was that while I was not working the analytic side of my brain because of the less time I spent at work, even though I thought I was as I was studying, my brain would just collapse. Not literally; but that is how it felt. At one point of time, I felt a sudden and powerful rush and vicious, violent dance of all bunch of emotions, not necessarily the positive ones for that matter, into my conciousness.

I was sitting on my couch when that happened and it was a nice afternoon. As soon as it happened, I started to freak out with the strength of the feelings. I did not know what was happening but I knew I was feeling incredibly bad. I was scared by the thoughts running in my mind; I was living in a terrible world created by my mind. I believed every single thing it said. Otherwise was not possible.

With this new “reality”, I walked around as if I was being dragged around with the heaviness in my chest. I could not sleep. I could not find one moment of peace. This horrible state and my lack of understanding of it continued quite a bit. I bought books, realizing it was possibly a mental situation, but focusing was so difficult I could not read them for quite sometime. I thought about seeing a doctor, yet I did not even know how to define it. I could not ask help, I could not focus on anything, and I could not understand it.

Eventually, I identified the core feeling as fear and thus was able to find self-help books on fear. There I realized what I was happening to me was a kind of anxiety. It was a relief finding a name to my situation. It also helped me to see that whatever looked real was not real; I was safe. But in the majority of time when I could not focus on reading and thus understanding my feelings, my mind was busy playing me the worst scenarios over and over, more vivid than ever, and more fearsome than anything. My mind was the worst enemy and finding a way to subsidize it did in fact  prove to be difficult.

– to be continued

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Sasha-part 2

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she was difficult to deal with

she was difficult to deal with

weird, and quick to get mad

and when mad, she spoke harsh

over small things we would fight

yet she never stopped fuelling my dreams

except when it was hard on me

then she would show her attitude

expecting me to have gratitude

I completely ignored her

I took no steps to see

nor called to ask how she was

though she did contact me

over the years time to time

she passed away lately

after a long illness I was told

I wonder why she never told me;

come to think about it

I never happened to ask her her life

the attention was always on me

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