An honest life

Life becomes very honest very fast when you find yourself in the emergency room. This is what happened to me a few weeks ago. My menstrual cycle got a little bit out of hand and I lost so much blood I couldn´t stand up anymore. It turned out to be a severe case of anemia and I needed three bags of blood transfused. It was terribly scary for a moment. And I do feel like it was a close call once again in my life (my life has hanged on a thread a few times before). Besides it being scary there was also some beauty to the situation. It all happened at night and I found myself so thankful for the hospital staff working night shifts. And how lucky I am to live in country where first aid is so well organized? My mother brought me there and stayed with me until it wasn’t needed anymore. I cried when she left, not because I needed her to stay, but just because I felt I loved her so much. And also, because I was afraid. At that point I was still waiting for treatment, waiting for the bleeding to stop, waiting for the blood transfusion. I was honestly afraid to die. But the hospital staff was calm and they assured me it was going to be okay.

Then there was the night nurse who kept checking on me every hour and who was so very sweet. Hospitals aren’t the nicest of places to be, but somehow it is al so comforting knowing you are taken care of and getting a lot of attention. When you need it, the hospital is the best place to be.

And so, everything was put into perspective. And afterwards I notice I’m more empathetic towards people in need of medical help. Some things you take for granted until things go south. Some things you consider to be normal until you know you would have died without them.

The next day my mom came back and she sat with me for all the hours I needed to wait for outcomes and decisions. We did absolutely nothing. Long stretches of time we were silent and bored out of our minds, but we were with each other and I was so glad she was there. She went and got me some stuff for my stay in the hospital and eventually it wasn’t needed, because I was released the same day.

Back home I was still shook by what had happened and I really felt it had had a big impact on me.

Unfortunately, the case was that I wouldn’t get much rest for another two to three weeks. I hardly had the chance to recover, because I had been changing between antipsychotics. This new type of medication was making me rest- and sleepless, which led to a few more weeks of enduring suffering. I know it sounds dramatic. But besides no rest and no sleep it also made me very depressed and sad and anxious. I was overwhelmed by a big sense homesickness for a home that doesn’t exist anymore. I felt so lost and so much loss.

Now, I am finally back on my old medication and I finally feel like I’m able to live again. I regained rest, I regained sleep and I sort of regained peace, though not entirely. Actually, I’m still quite unhappy with how my life looks and feels. Back on my old medication I have this sense of unfulfillment again. Feeling like I want to do stuff, need to change things, have to achieve something, or something, but just not being able to. Being stuck, being unable to grow. I know now it’s a side effect of these medications. And I know I’m better off now than I was before. I’m so glad I can move again, read again and most of all sleep again.

I’m still getting examinations for how this extreme blood loss could have happened and I might even have to have an ovary removed. And psychologically I really don’t know what has to happen. The grief with this other medication was so overwhelming and I feel like it’s being suppressed now. I feel like, somehow, I need a miracle to be able to recover from the loss I felt. It didn’t feel possible to heal from that pain. And now it is just sort of gone, but I know it is not.

So, this isn’t the end of all of this. But one thing I do know. My life has gotten more honest somehow.