“Never, never, never give up” – Winston Churchill.
Things happen. They happen to us when we least expect it. Whenever I am feeling overwhelmed, overworked or scattered, I turn to my blog which is my little shelter of stories and freedom. My stories ground me and all these aches, tranches and pains I have crawled out of recently are life lessons and will provide nice little roots of who I am. And maybe these stories may seem like meaningless little bits and pieces of my past self but I have earned every single second of it which gives me power in the long run. Whenever life gets chaotic and stressful, jotting down a couple of thoughts makes me feel better while observing what the outcome might be.
I experienced the worst pain ever in my stomach last Wednesday while I sat patiently through my evening class at University. It did not start out too badly but increased slowly to the point where I felt overwhelmed. I suffered through it until class was over. I went to hospital the next day to find out what this is all about because I could not take it anymore. With me – my three year-old son. While we waited patiently (going up and down the escalator several [felt a million] time) for my blood results I thought anything could happen at this point. I consider myself pretty healthy, so this felt pain I experienced was totally new to me. “Anything could have caused it really”, I thought. So finally, the test was back and the doctor told me I cannot leave the hospital. They need to do an ultrasound because the blood tests results were significantly higher than normal.
First thing on my mind: What will happen to Petit Joel? What if I have to stay in hospital? What if I need surgery of any kind? These thoughts made me sick to my stomach [no pun intended]. I worried even though I did not know what will happen next but this is just me. Many thoughts crossed my mind. I am at the beginning of my Master studies, I am working somewhat on my thesis [don’t ask me about it though] and Petit Joel and I are enjoying life in Ottawa. We just moved here. Why did this have to happen now? Things changed rather quickly at this point. Waiting for this test result was painful and scary. They eventually did the ultrasound. This was seven! hours of waiting at the emergency room with Petit Joel. I am so glad that at this point, I did not have to go through it alone anymore. Someone helped me out and I am deeply grateful. Seriously forever grateful.
Long story short: I am okay now. I take medication for a severe gastritis and gall stones that wandered through my intestines and I am thankfully on the road of recovery. It was a nightmare. I can take a lot of pain but this sort of physical suffering took the best out of me. I was knocked out cold for days and university work besides other thing were piling up and today was the first day I could actually focus again and get things done.
Hospital 101: What I learned from staying/waiting at an Emergency room with a three year-old for 9 hours:
1. Don’t mess with the nurses or receptionist. Be nice. Wait. They are doing their job. If you are mean, you wait longer. Stay polite even though they might be rude.
2. Try to stay calm. It is difficult, especially with a child. Unconsciously and luckily I packed my iPAD for him to watch things and (strangely) even took a couple of snacks. Staying calm for him is key. We went down to the cafeteria and at supper at Tim Hortons and he was okay. [Actually, he stayed beside me for the entire ordeal. He was good because he knew I am sick. He did not even cry or fuss. When I was in a fever/coma on the couch he did not leave my side for one second. Be aware: he is three years-old]
3. Be patient. A bed will be assigned to you but things will move slowly. You wait for this bed. You wait for blood and whatnot samples and of course their results. You wait until a doctor sees you and tells you what is going on. You wait for ultrasound, radiology or MRI. You wait and wait and you wait. Fact is: Things will get out of control. I broke down. I cried and wept. I walked around more but I managed [with help] to stay in control and did not allow this to stress me out. I just skipped peeing and waited. You never now when this buzzing things blinks. [Am I waiting for fries here?]
4. The best seat. The best seat is no doubt next to an electrical outlet if you took a phone charger, which I, of course, did not. From now on, no matter what, a phone charger is in my purse. The phone became my connection to real life. A life where I don’t hear people cry, puke, machines beep or see nurses and doctors run by. I tried to meditate but it was not working with my son climbing up on my shoulders while I tried to hold my intestines together in one place.
5. Friendships are formed in the hospital waiting room. In this room, everybody is in the same boat and everybody waits to hear their name being called and randomly thinks to just take another one just to get out of this hell. Everybody in this waiting room has one thing in common: They are in pain or accompanying someone who is. You become friends fast. You listen to each others jokes event though they are sometimes not that appropriate [“We waited for hours after my wife had a miscarriage the last time. Holy shit, they let us wait even though she had the miscarriage already at home!] You don’t exchange names really or you would not ask them to come over for Christmas or Thanksgiving but you will feel close to them for whatever reason for the time being.
Whenever the doctor appears and calls out your name, you will drop your new nameless “friend” like a hot potato and turn your attention to doctor Ryder. You might even feel a little special because YOUR doctor came out before your new friend’s doctor did. And before you leave you will tell your friend “good luck to you” or “I hope things are okay”. At this point however you don’t really mean it because you just want to get the hell out of there. No matter what. [Lesson learned: Do not share too many details about yourself, your disease or your traumatic experience – either in real life or in this hospital but also be aware that sharing a tiny bit of yourself keeps this mutual emergency room experience of some sort of comforting short-lived relationship. Always keep in mind: You will meet more “stranger-friends” the longer you have to wait. By the time I left I even knew the cleaning guy Hank, his story, his family and the Time Horton’s grill guy Steve who also worked at the salad bar because he is actually a vegetarian.
Friends are the most important things through tough times. If it is Steve, Hank, Ryder (green turned red) or the Security guard who told me I cannot ride the escalator with my son anymore because people feel disturbed by his laughter. I asked the Security guard if he likes his job and the midnight shift and he just looked at me weirdly, tired and kept on walking miserably trying to get a cigarette out of the pack and find a lighter in his pocket. “The hospital is a different place at night, ” he said, while he walked through the revolving door.
