There wasn’t much to do so I looked at the ceiling. It was clean, had nothing more than the air conditioning vent, sprinkler and two lights. I hate not having anything to do.
It feels wrong to look, to see beyond the curtains of my little cubicle. And yet there is nothing to do but look and hear and see.
Healthcare professionals are still creatures just like us. In need of food, water, sleep and rest. They are just like us. Why do we forget that.
I was craving something unhealthy when I came out of the hospital. It was a bad choice.
Hospital, Heart, Heart, Hospital
Body & mind in a hospital. A photo journal.
In the ICU when I didn’t have my phone
After coming off of anaesthesia, it takes a while for the body to get back its “normal” functions. Peeing, pooping and such. One of the things that I found hard is peeing. It happened the last time too when I had surgery for achalasia.
I cried because I couldn’t pee. I cried because it was humiliating to press my hand into my belly and push the pee out. I cried because the doctor was dismissive and saw me as a nuisance. Then I peed.
Did the whole thing again the next day.
These were the shoes of the doctor who came to admit me into the ICU. The shoes were cute.
I struggle quite a bit with not having scars. It feels like everything that is going on in your body doesn’t and did not exist. Not even a scar remains, it’s a terrifying feeling. But I remember everything. Someone putting their whole body weight onto my femoral artery by that I did not bleed out. A sand bag replacing that hand. Doctors coming in, visiting me, charting. Nurses chittering about my age. My parents and their fear. The fifteen minutes it took for my procedure to be done. The humiliation of not being able to pee and the pain that came with it. My blood pressure being high. My spine feeling uncomfortable because I was prohibited from moving my legs. My hips becoming stiff and sore. The back of my ears hurting because I COULD NOT FOR THE LIFE OF ME PEE! Body hating all of it. Esophagus despising all of it. I remember it, and yet I have not a mark on my body anymore.
I remember the procedure, being in the Cath Lab, being on local anaesthesia, the pressure of the tubes going in, the pressure of the tubes coming out. I felt the device. It was a quirk, a blip, I felt it. I remember the nurses talking about my Blood pressure being a little high, asking me to eat something but my esophagus was uncomfortable. I was uncomfortable being fed by someone else. But language, words, they escaped me. I remember the nurses talking about food, chattering about charting, talking about long shifts, horrible pay, stolen phones, prospective marriages. I remember one bargaining sleep, the ladies who cleaned my body, a nurse pulling blood for a creatinine test in the middle of the night while I was half asleep. I remember thinking, “this too shall pass.” I remember, I remember, I remember.
Hospitals are a struggle between personal autonomy, pain, grief, fear intersecting with hospital staff, their lives, employment, their pain, their grief and administration. The making mundane of something that is idealised.
Hospital, Heart, Heart, Hospital
A photo journal of the time I was in the hospital for ASD (Atrial Septal Defect - A hole in the upper chambers of the heart) device closure.