Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Monday, October 17, 2011
Riding on
12 days to Rich Happy and Hot
Music: The Social Network soundtrack
Location: the study
The last thing I remember is riding. The wind in my face, rushing in my ears, sun on my cheeks. Then blackness. Then confusion. The musings of the mind is so subjective. What I think is the next thought might be a dream, might be real, might be the suggestion of a thought or story that I saw or read somewhere. Scary to think one can'r trust their own recollections, the images in their own minds. So cerebral!
The next thing: waking up in hospital. 11 days later. WTF. Sensory overload. Voices. Faces. It would take another 5 days before I could trust what I was thinking, what I heard, what I was seeing.
PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: Intensive Care Unit (ICU) psychosis is real. It happened to me, and most likely countless others. Should someone you know or love end up in the ICU, please make sure you familiarize your self with the signs and symptoms. It will save you and your loved one a world of grief. There is more than enough data to support my notions. But who wants numbers and figures when there are stories to be had?;)
My family told me I was in a bad bicycle accident. My husband would tell me a year later, that it is a miracle I survived and a blessing that I can walk today.
I stayed in hospital for 3 months. I have an injury list the size of a weekly shopping list. I have many scars. My body still feels the after shocks of the last day that I rode my bicycle. My mind, well, on a good day it is succinct. My psyche took a massive hit.
It is two years, one month and seven days since the accident. I am much better in some ways. Before the accident I worked as an Emergency Room Nurse. What I knew then about mind and body feels so immature compared to what I know now. My understanding has deepened, like a leather jacket that has over time moulded to the wearer's frame. If or when I go back to work, I will be a completely different nurse. More present. The line between nurse and patient is blurred. Less absolute.
Thank god for the internet. Once I was discharged, I was at home. Undergoing therapy. Resting. Sleeping. My head felt full of cotton wool from lying dormant for so long. The internet gave me access to the rest of the world. Other bloggers, online businesses. This was around the time that using social media as a marketing tool and running businesses online became very popular. I found Etsy, the online market for crafters alike. Etsy became the perfect starting point for hobbyists to test the waters - setting up shop, learning how to sell and run an online business. The handmade movement sprang up and bloomed quickly, a renaissance of all things arty and UN-bigbox store. For someone stuck at home, it made for the perfect entertainment. I went from a thrifty, in person shopper to an internet savvy, cyber consumer of handmade goods. The net was my band aid, and it provided the best day to day distraction from my current reality possible.
Bedtime. Tired. Sore. Pain creeps up like the boogey monster at night. Slowly, slowly and suddenly intense. It's medtime. Nighty night.
Xxx
J.
PS - I'd like to start a segment called Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes. Any good Blog has a sense of balance, and I'd like to share information as well as personal happenings, neat net discoveries as well as the realities of recovery. More later. Good night!
Music: The Social Network soundtrack
Location: the study
The last thing I remember is riding. The wind in my face, rushing in my ears, sun on my cheeks. Then blackness. Then confusion. The musings of the mind is so subjective. What I think is the next thought might be a dream, might be real, might be the suggestion of a thought or story that I saw or read somewhere. Scary to think one can'r trust their own recollections, the images in their own minds. So cerebral!
The next thing: waking up in hospital. 11 days later. WTF. Sensory overload. Voices. Faces. It would take another 5 days before I could trust what I was thinking, what I heard, what I was seeing.
PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: Intensive Care Unit (ICU) psychosis is real. It happened to me, and most likely countless others. Should someone you know or love end up in the ICU, please make sure you familiarize your self with the signs and symptoms. It will save you and your loved one a world of grief. There is more than enough data to support my notions. But who wants numbers and figures when there are stories to be had?;)
My family told me I was in a bad bicycle accident. My husband would tell me a year later, that it is a miracle I survived and a blessing that I can walk today.
I stayed in hospital for 3 months. I have an injury list the size of a weekly shopping list. I have many scars. My body still feels the after shocks of the last day that I rode my bicycle. My mind, well, on a good day it is succinct. My psyche took a massive hit.
It is two years, one month and seven days since the accident. I am much better in some ways. Before the accident I worked as an Emergency Room Nurse. What I knew then about mind and body feels so immature compared to what I know now. My understanding has deepened, like a leather jacket that has over time moulded to the wearer's frame. If or when I go back to work, I will be a completely different nurse. More present. The line between nurse and patient is blurred. Less absolute.
Thank god for the internet. Once I was discharged, I was at home. Undergoing therapy. Resting. Sleeping. My head felt full of cotton wool from lying dormant for so long. The internet gave me access to the rest of the world. Other bloggers, online businesses. This was around the time that using social media as a marketing tool and running businesses online became very popular. I found Etsy, the online market for crafters alike. Etsy became the perfect starting point for hobbyists to test the waters - setting up shop, learning how to sell and run an online business. The handmade movement sprang up and bloomed quickly, a renaissance of all things arty and UN-bigbox store. For someone stuck at home, it made for the perfect entertainment. I went from a thrifty, in person shopper to an internet savvy, cyber consumer of handmade goods. The net was my band aid, and it provided the best day to day distraction from my current reality possible.
Bedtime. Tired. Sore. Pain creeps up like the boogey monster at night. Slowly, slowly and suddenly intense. It's medtime. Nighty night.
Xxx
J.
PS - I'd like to start a segment called Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes. Any good Blog has a sense of balance, and I'd like to share information as well as personal happenings, neat net discoveries as well as the realities of recovery. More later. Good night!
Friday, October 7, 2011
Heroic act #1
This blog has been ages in the making. I don’t really know what I was so afraid of. Frank Herbert once wrote “fear is the mind killer.” My mantra for when things got frightening, overexposed. A blog is nothing more than a discussion with your self in cyber space, where people eventually join in and start to talk. I feel like I have so much stored up in my mind that maybe if I just puncture the seal, and get it all out on to paper/a computer screen, I’d have more space to grow something new and vibrant. I’ve spent the last two years taking in information, opinions, and points of view. Perhaps it is time to change the flow. A two way valve is so much more advanced than a one way valve. But enough babble.
I started Recovery Inc a year ago. It fizzled out, most likely because everything was still too new. Too raw. There wasn’t enough incorporation and not enough recovery.
You wouldn’t believe how often I’ve dissected the word “recover, recovery”.
Recover: To find, to save, to hide, to soothe, to tuck into bed.
Recovery: the process of starting again
How ever you spin it, a story is waiting to be told.
So here I am. One year wiser. I am ready to give this project another go, if for no one else than for myself. Recovery is a business - my business. Let’s see which way this dice rolls.
I started Recovery Inc a year ago. It fizzled out, most likely because everything was still too new. Too raw. There wasn’t enough incorporation and not enough recovery.
You wouldn’t believe how often I’ve dissected the word “recover, recovery”.
Recover: To find, to save, to hide, to soothe, to tuck into bed.
Recovery: the process of starting again
How ever you spin it, a story is waiting to be told.
So here I am. One year wiser. I am ready to give this project another go, if for no one else than for myself. Recovery is a business - my business. Let’s see which way this dice rolls.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
musings
Quiet here as of late. Just returned from a week of bliss in Tulum Mexico, with my traveler family. Great fun.
This blog post gave me much to ponder: http://thevamoose.blogspot.com/2011/01/from-earth.html
This blog post gave me much to ponder: http://thevamoose.blogspot.com/2011/01/from-earth.html
Monday, January 3, 2011
Reverb 10 - Day 31
Prompt: Core story. What central story is at the core of you, and how do you share it with the world? (Bonus: Consider your reflections from this month. Look through them to discover a thread you may not have noticed until today.)
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 30
Prompt: Gift. This month, gifts and gift-giving can seem inescapable. What's the most memorable gift, tangible or emotional, you received this year?
I received some lovely gifts throughout the year. I prefer to give gifts rather than receive - I rarely like the attention that receiving a gift can bring. I prefer siting back and watching someone open a gift - the excitement, the pleasure, the chuftness of it. I enjoy planning and shopping for gifts for others. I like getting an idea for one and hunt for signs or clues as to whether or not the intended recipient will like it or not.
I emember viewing a socia anthropology film in Society class in high school, that broached the topic of giving. They examined a pacific tribe in which the act of giving is a community pass time. A large handmade pot sits mounted on a pedestal. Always adorned with fresh flowers etc. The pot never stays long in one place. It is constantly in motion, a symbol of the pride and community spirit of this tribe. The pot exits to be given. This tribe holds the act of giving much more esteemed than receiving. Once received, the receiver gets the pot for a period of time during which they become the giver and ponder who in the village they will give the pot to. Much thought is valued and weighed as giving the pot to someone begins a new partnership.
I wish I could remember the film's name so I could see it again.
I love love love spoiling E. There is nothing more wonderful then seeing the look of surprise and then glee he gets whenever I buy him something. E is more of a do-er - he likes to do things for people, makes him feel useful.
I took a friend shopping recently and also reserved at first, she really got into it. So much fun.
I have no clue why I love giving, but I have been doing so much of my adult life. I don't intend to stop. It brings me so much joy, so much fulfillment
I received some lovely gifts throughout the year. I prefer to give gifts rather than receive - I rarely like the attention that receiving a gift can bring. I prefer siting back and watching someone open a gift - the excitement, the pleasure, the chuftness of it. I enjoy planning and shopping for gifts for others. I like getting an idea for one and hunt for signs or clues as to whether or not the intended recipient will like it or not.
I emember viewing a socia anthropology film in Society class in high school, that broached the topic of giving. They examined a pacific tribe in which the act of giving is a community pass time. A large handmade pot sits mounted on a pedestal. Always adorned with fresh flowers etc. The pot never stays long in one place. It is constantly in motion, a symbol of the pride and community spirit of this tribe. The pot exits to be given. This tribe holds the act of giving much more esteemed than receiving. Once received, the receiver gets the pot for a period of time during which they become the giver and ponder who in the village they will give the pot to. Much thought is valued and weighed as giving the pot to someone begins a new partnership.
I wish I could remember the film's name so I could see it again.
I love love love spoiling E. There is nothing more wonderful then seeing the look of surprise and then glee he gets whenever I buy him something. E is more of a do-er - he likes to do things for people, makes him feel useful.
I took a friend shopping recently and also reserved at first, she really got into it. So much fun.
I have no clue why I love giving, but I have been doing so much of my adult life. I don't intend to stop. It brings me so much joy, so much fulfillment
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 29
Prompt: Defining moment. Describe a defining moment or series of events that has affected your life this year.
Besides the obvious?
When I realized that returning to MSH ER was more than likely out of the question. I'd had an inkling for a while, but refused to admit it. One visit to the the ER earlier in the year, I'd sat down with my manager for a chat and had steered the topic towards my return to work. She seemed slow to reply and said that it would have to be done via Occupational health and to do so two months before I wanted to return. Something in her tone - it was flat, guarded. Not encouraging. At this point I thought I could return a year to the day of my accident. I was working hard to do so. After the summer surgery in July I realized that October wasn't likely given how slow I was to recover. Early fall I saw my manager at a retirement party for one of the senior nurses. We'd had a great chat and I told her I would be taking longer than I had previously thought I would. She had half smiled and told me to take all the time I needed, and that no one expected anything more.
In November I was able to face the truth. It still rips me to shreds but hopefully I'll find something else to do. The heartbreak and pain just doesn't stop in this recovery.
Besides the obvious?
When I realized that returning to MSH ER was more than likely out of the question. I'd had an inkling for a while, but refused to admit it. One visit to the the ER earlier in the year, I'd sat down with my manager for a chat and had steered the topic towards my return to work. She seemed slow to reply and said that it would have to be done via Occupational health and to do so two months before I wanted to return. Something in her tone - it was flat, guarded. Not encouraging. At this point I thought I could return a year to the day of my accident. I was working hard to do so. After the summer surgery in July I realized that October wasn't likely given how slow I was to recover. Early fall I saw my manager at a retirement party for one of the senior nurses. We'd had a great chat and I told her I would be taking longer than I had previously thought I would. She had half smiled and told me to take all the time I needed, and that no one expected anything more.
In November I was able to face the truth. It still rips me to shreds but hopefully I'll find something else to do. The heartbreak and pain just doesn't stop in this recovery.
Reverb#10 - Day 28
Prompt: Achieve. What’s the thing you most want to achieve next year? How do you imagine you’ll feel when you get it? Free? Happy? Complete? Blissful? Write that feeling down. Then, brainstorm 10 things you can do, or 10 new thoughts you can think, in order to experience that feeling today.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 27
Prompt: Ordinary joy. Our most profound joy is often experienced during ordinary moments. What was one of your most joyful ordinary moments this year?
Friday, December 24, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 25
Prompt: Photo - a present to yourself. Sift through all the photos of you from the past year. Choose one that best captures you; either who you are, or who you strive to be. Find the shot of you that is worth a thousand words. Share the image, who shot it, where, and what it best reveals about you.
Reverb 10 - Day 24
Prompt: Everything's OK. What was the best moment that could serve as proof that everything is going to be alright? And how will you incorporate that discovery into the year ahead?
A while ago I was pretty low. Very down, sad, angry. I did something I shouldn't have and then panicked and phoned a friend. Someone I knew would understand my thoughts and would be able to talk me through. A kindred spirit.
She did that and more. This was the first time I had called someone when I was truely low. She came through for me. Restored my faith in my friends. My faith has been so shaken this year. But there are some who have stayed with me throughout all this and for them I am truely thankful.
I am going to remember who they are. So if this ever happens again, I will know I don't have to be alone. An upturn in an otherwise downward spiral.
A while ago I was pretty low. Very down, sad, angry. I did something I shouldn't have and then panicked and phoned a friend. Someone I knew would understand my thoughts and would be able to talk me through. A kindred spirit.
She did that and more. This was the first time I had called someone when I was truely low. She came through for me. Restored my faith in my friends. My faith has been so shaken this year. But there are some who have stayed with me throughout all this and for them I am truely thankful.
I am going to remember who they are. So if this ever happens again, I will know I don't have to be alone. An upturn in an otherwise downward spiral.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 22
Prompt: Travel. How did you travel in 2010? How and/or where would you like to travel next year?
Due to my recovery we haven't traveled much. We went up to my dad's house many times, just to get out of the city. He lives in the rolling hills of Moonstone, just N of Barrie. His lot faces a small valley which is a great place for the dog. We brought Higgins up when he was very wee and he loved it. Tearing through the long grass at the back of the property, running around the lawn, chasing small animals. A dog's life!
Our first Vacation was to BC for a wedding. I've already posted about it earlier in the blog. It was pure magic. A perfect two weeks.
In January E and I are headed to Mexico. The in Feb I am going to the Western coast of Mexico with my mum and sista for a yoga retreat at an eco-lodge. I'm imagining it will be a riot.
Then in June we are headed to Portland for ten days.
So some plans, nothing epic, simply a short break with my family. Perfect.
Due to my recovery we haven't traveled much. We went up to my dad's house many times, just to get out of the city. He lives in the rolling hills of Moonstone, just N of Barrie. His lot faces a small valley which is a great place for the dog. We brought Higgins up when he was very wee and he loved it. Tearing through the long grass at the back of the property, running around the lawn, chasing small animals. A dog's life!
Our first Vacation was to BC for a wedding. I've already posted about it earlier in the blog. It was pure magic. A perfect two weeks.
In January E and I are headed to Mexico. The in Feb I am going to the Western coast of Mexico with my mum and sista for a yoga retreat at an eco-lodge. I'm imagining it will be a riot.
Then in June we are headed to Portland for ten days.
So some plans, nothing epic, simply a short break with my family. Perfect.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 21
Prompt: Future self. Imagine yourself five years from now. What advice would you give your current self for the year ahead? (Bonus: Write a note to yourself 10 years ago. What would you tell your younger self?)
Five years from now, erm. 2015, at the dawn of 2016. I'll be 38. Hoo boy.
Interestingly enough this prompt comes on an interesting night. The total lunar eclipse is just winding down. It was beautiful. The moon was this reddish brown colour, we could see it flickering between red, bronze and brown. My dog went nuts at totality, running around in the snow, back and forth, chasing something only he could see. Dogs and the moon. Something to that, it seems.
The last lunar eclipse I witnessed was in 2001 on Paradise Beach, just outside of Gorkana, SW India. One state south of Goa. Fresh off the holiday season madness that befalls Goa, my friends and I had ventured south to Gorkana, in search of chill beaches, chiller charis and a group of friends we had last seen in Diu. Dawn, a rad Californian had found us in Arambol, Goa at some point around New Years and had come south with us to meet up with her friends Dave, Nadia and Andy, who had been camping in the Hampi Caves since Xmas. She knew they were headed for Om Beach, a 45 minute hike south over the cliff tops. Om Beach is quite cool. If you stand on the cliffs just North of the beach, the beach is actually two smaller beaches split from each other by a sand bar. From the cliff, the whole beach looks like an OM symbol. We thought it would be chill and peaceful, but the Goa crowd had moved south as well following New Years, and had set up shop on OM Beach for a 3 day psy-trance party. Fueled mostly by the Israeli contingent, who are known to spawn mass migrations towards anywhere quiet and near a beach, usually by hauling the craziest speakers system into the middle of nowhere. How they do it, is a mystery unbeknown-st to us Anglo lot. We arrived at one of the cafes and eventually found Dave, Nads and Andy (DNA). They had word of a quieter beach, Paradise beach, and were heading in that direction, having no interest in partying like it was New Years all over again.
The party was in honour and in awe of an Eclipse, which occurred on the last night of the party. What better way to view an Eclipse than to stay up all night, dancing and thrashing about on the beach while the ocean goes mad. Primal madness at it's best.
We stayed on OM beach for the first night, to take in the vibes and music. India is full of characteurs to begin with. Goa and anywhere involving an Israeli rave has the oddest, sketchiest, craziest characteurs, all who temporarily (or permanently) lose their minds at some point and make the best spectacles of themselves. Maybe the drugs are more potent, maybe the elements work one into a frenzy, maybe a combo of both. Who knows. My friends and I spent the night dancing, sitting, dozing, dancing. We had rented a storage room where 6 of us could dump our bags and sleep on the floor if needed, but the room was to the side of the party so it was like sleeping in the speaker itself.
After one crazy, hilarious and endless night we decided to head for Paradise Beach as well. I joined Dawn in her search for her group DNA, after splitting from Corinna and Annwyn, who were heading back up to Arambol to guesthouse sit for a few weeks.
Another 45 minute hike down the beach and we were there. A quiet craggy beach, nestled next to a large steep rocky outcrop. One shack with one restaurant, and a few basket like huts next to the restaurant. The outhouse was a trench dug into the cliff side (I'm not kidding), and the bottom of said trench was exactly what you think it was. A bed of toilet tissue and rapidly drying waste. How it didn't stink up the beach is another Indian mystery.
I opted to sleep on the beach with a few friends and keep my bag in the shack. My larger rucksack was in a storage locker at a hotel in Gorkana, and I had filled my day bag with what I needed for the next few days. The honour system was highly regarded, as everyone had stuff lying in and around shabby basket huts. Our belongings remained safe. The first night was spent chatting with the other residents of the beach, building campfires, smoking chillums and making plans for the Eclipse.
The next day we swam, ate, smoked, swam, ate, hiked, swam, chatted, smoked etc. The shack did a special Eeekleepse curry with rice and lassis. The Indian guys told us to build our fires further up the beach as the water would get big. We built it almost as high as they had recommended because why would peeps who had lived on these beaches their entire lives and probably seen 5 dozen beach side Eclipses know better than us backpacking folk where to build a fire. Duh.
The sunset was absolutely stunning. Blood red to purple to pink to orange. It lasted for well over an hour, the colour was insane. At one point Nadia looked back to me an mimed "What the Fuck" with big Indian arm gestures. Al I could do was nod in agreement. The sunset was so incredible that all us watching had a group hug to celebrate the fact that our heads didn't explode from what we just witnessed. Incredible.
The eclipse was expected to start at around 12-1230. After sunset we noticed an increase in ocean activity - the waves usually hit the beach with a quiet thump, like a heart beat. This time it was harder, more intense. The tide was excited and the closer it got to the Eclipse beginning, the more frenetic the waves and tidal movement got. Bubbling, crackling, more aggressive in movement. The waves ran longer up the beach, as if to swallow the earth in its path. Our fire was raging by this point, and as it grew, so did the ocean. Soon we were inching up the beach, to the shore side of the fire. All of a sudden a wave hit the beach with a snarling thump and the oceans of water flew the length of the beach, into the side of our fire. We scrambled to get out of the way, as the ocean was claiming whatever was in it's path. The air felt completely electric by this point. Under the full moon he wave caps looked like snowy mountains and avalanches of sea water. As the light dimmed, we could still make out the waves, more of a muted grey. Nadia grabbed my arm and hissed "we're going in." She pulled me towards the water. I barely scrambled out of my clothes before hitting the water. The chill of the water wasn't what made me startle. The water felt alive, as if every droplet was a different entity. We didn't go deep, but sat in the shallows, barely able to take it all in. I had always known the power of the ocean but never felt it, never experienced it in this way before. It crashed around us, merciless, unrelenting, hissing, bubbling, the sea foam dancing all around us.
One of the crazy swedes from the shack swam further out and he told us later the ocean was insane. He literally felt like he was riding a wild animal. Fantastic.
Nads and I left the frothing water, and shimmied back into towels and clothes. The fire by this point had been breached and completely swallowed by the water. Everyone was huddled around a large fire further up ground. Dawn told us later the Indian guys were laughing at us down on the beach and were further entertained by the drowning fire and us "kraaaaaazy" swimmers.
The moon by this point was almost swallowed whole, only a sliver of light could be seen. We could still hear the roar of the ocean, could see the thrashing spitting waves. The fire was a good size and roared back at the ocean. It was truly a natural phenomenon. I fell asleep that night next to the fire, listening to the sounds around me, exhausted by the experience I had witnessed.
The next day I was awoken by the heartbeat of the waves on the beach. Much of the shoreline had been altered slightly, sharper lines in the sand, sand banks were worn down. No driftwood etc. to be seen. Andy returned from the party. It had been nuts over there as well, the music completely bonkers, driving many into a worked up frenzy. More internally charged as opposed to the external show we had seen at our little beach. Quite the Paradise.
We would eventually leave Gorkana and head East to Chennai, where we'd catch the 3 day boat ride to the Andaman Islands. Probably the most incredible experience ever. I'm so grateful I recognized a good thing when I saw it.
Tonight this eclipse was quieter. The dog was the only thing worked up and I wonder how much of that was due in part to his puppiness. I woke Erick just before totality, and he came outside to see it. Cold, clear night outside. Perfect viewing.
My future self's advice to myself for the year ahead: Keep your head in game and don't lose hope. Be kind to yourself. Enjoy the little moments. Love your friends. Be thankful for what you didn't lose and what you have. Change is a given. Rewrite your stars.
My current self's words of wisdom to myself ten years ago: 2000. I was in India. In Diu, Gujarat. Just before the earthquake. About to enjoy a Christmas that I only just connected with some of the participants to remember what a great time that was. A week away from heading south to Goa for NYE, and Gorkana for the Eclipse. although I certainly didn't know it.
Hmmmmmmm. Don't over think things. Enjoy yourself. Make friends, stay in touch. Follow your instincts but don't forget to follow your heart too. Don't worry what if. Things have this funny way of working themselves out.
Ten years ago, almost to the day I had just re-met Nadia in Diu, having first met her in Pushkar. We were all eating at a long table in a restaurant. Corinna and I had just arrived and met up with Chrissy and Co. Dave and Nadia, Dawn and Andy were leaving the next day for Hampi. Nadia came up beside me touched my arm, said "it's good to see you again." I had smiled back and nodded, too shy to say anything else to this adventurer I so wanted to be friends with. Nads told me later she couldn't remember how she'd met me only that I was familiar, quiet, and that she was sad she was leaving because she wanted to know me better.
Connections within connections. In January Erick and I are heading down to Tulum, Mexico to visit Dave and Nadia in their eye shaped casa in the jungle. I love living with them. My only regret in life is not spending more time with them in Manchester, as they really wanted me to stay it seemed. My soul breathren. During my time at Bridgepoint Rehab Dave had seen my Facebook wall posts from concerned peeps and had messaged me. I told him what had happened to me, and he told Nads. They both sent me messages and cards throughout the year, even reminding me of the Hangi we did on the Andamans. Another pair of arms holding us up, supporting Erick and I through a very dark time. We are so lucky to have the friends we do.
We mix Tulum and Tofino up frequently. Both small touristy towns, beautiful, magical, holding so many good memories. Each representing a sister-friend - my Didi in Tulum, and my Banyani in Tofino.
Connections within connections.
Five years from now, erm. 2015, at the dawn of 2016. I'll be 38. Hoo boy.
Interestingly enough this prompt comes on an interesting night. The total lunar eclipse is just winding down. It was beautiful. The moon was this reddish brown colour, we could see it flickering between red, bronze and brown. My dog went nuts at totality, running around in the snow, back and forth, chasing something only he could see. Dogs and the moon. Something to that, it seems.
The last lunar eclipse I witnessed was in 2001 on Paradise Beach, just outside of Gorkana, SW India. One state south of Goa. Fresh off the holiday season madness that befalls Goa, my friends and I had ventured south to Gorkana, in search of chill beaches, chiller charis and a group of friends we had last seen in Diu. Dawn, a rad Californian had found us in Arambol, Goa at some point around New Years and had come south with us to meet up with her friends Dave, Nadia and Andy, who had been camping in the Hampi Caves since Xmas. She knew they were headed for Om Beach, a 45 minute hike south over the cliff tops. Om Beach is quite cool. If you stand on the cliffs just North of the beach, the beach is actually two smaller beaches split from each other by a sand bar. From the cliff, the whole beach looks like an OM symbol. We thought it would be chill and peaceful, but the Goa crowd had moved south as well following New Years, and had set up shop on OM Beach for a 3 day psy-trance party. Fueled mostly by the Israeli contingent, who are known to spawn mass migrations towards anywhere quiet and near a beach, usually by hauling the craziest speakers system into the middle of nowhere. How they do it, is a mystery unbeknown-st to us Anglo lot. We arrived at one of the cafes and eventually found Dave, Nads and Andy (DNA). They had word of a quieter beach, Paradise beach, and were heading in that direction, having no interest in partying like it was New Years all over again.
The party was in honour and in awe of an Eclipse, which occurred on the last night of the party. What better way to view an Eclipse than to stay up all night, dancing and thrashing about on the beach while the ocean goes mad. Primal madness at it's best.
We stayed on OM beach for the first night, to take in the vibes and music. India is full of characteurs to begin with. Goa and anywhere involving an Israeli rave has the oddest, sketchiest, craziest characteurs, all who temporarily (or permanently) lose their minds at some point and make the best spectacles of themselves. Maybe the drugs are more potent, maybe the elements work one into a frenzy, maybe a combo of both. Who knows. My friends and I spent the night dancing, sitting, dozing, dancing. We had rented a storage room where 6 of us could dump our bags and sleep on the floor if needed, but the room was to the side of the party so it was like sleeping in the speaker itself.
After one crazy, hilarious and endless night we decided to head for Paradise Beach as well. I joined Dawn in her search for her group DNA, after splitting from Corinna and Annwyn, who were heading back up to Arambol to guesthouse sit for a few weeks.
Another 45 minute hike down the beach and we were there. A quiet craggy beach, nestled next to a large steep rocky outcrop. One shack with one restaurant, and a few basket like huts next to the restaurant. The outhouse was a trench dug into the cliff side (I'm not kidding), and the bottom of said trench was exactly what you think it was. A bed of toilet tissue and rapidly drying waste. How it didn't stink up the beach is another Indian mystery.
I opted to sleep on the beach with a few friends and keep my bag in the shack. My larger rucksack was in a storage locker at a hotel in Gorkana, and I had filled my day bag with what I needed for the next few days. The honour system was highly regarded, as everyone had stuff lying in and around shabby basket huts. Our belongings remained safe. The first night was spent chatting with the other residents of the beach, building campfires, smoking chillums and making plans for the Eclipse.
The next day we swam, ate, smoked, swam, ate, hiked, swam, chatted, smoked etc. The shack did a special Eeekleepse curry with rice and lassis. The Indian guys told us to build our fires further up the beach as the water would get big. We built it almost as high as they had recommended because why would peeps who had lived on these beaches their entire lives and probably seen 5 dozen beach side Eclipses know better than us backpacking folk where to build a fire. Duh.
The sunset was absolutely stunning. Blood red to purple to pink to orange. It lasted for well over an hour, the colour was insane. At one point Nadia looked back to me an mimed "What the Fuck" with big Indian arm gestures. Al I could do was nod in agreement. The sunset was so incredible that all us watching had a group hug to celebrate the fact that our heads didn't explode from what we just witnessed. Incredible.
The eclipse was expected to start at around 12-1230. After sunset we noticed an increase in ocean activity - the waves usually hit the beach with a quiet thump, like a heart beat. This time it was harder, more intense. The tide was excited and the closer it got to the Eclipse beginning, the more frenetic the waves and tidal movement got. Bubbling, crackling, more aggressive in movement. The waves ran longer up the beach, as if to swallow the earth in its path. Our fire was raging by this point, and as it grew, so did the ocean. Soon we were inching up the beach, to the shore side of the fire. All of a sudden a wave hit the beach with a snarling thump and the oceans of water flew the length of the beach, into the side of our fire. We scrambled to get out of the way, as the ocean was claiming whatever was in it's path. The air felt completely electric by this point. Under the full moon he wave caps looked like snowy mountains and avalanches of sea water. As the light dimmed, we could still make out the waves, more of a muted grey. Nadia grabbed my arm and hissed "we're going in." She pulled me towards the water. I barely scrambled out of my clothes before hitting the water. The chill of the water wasn't what made me startle. The water felt alive, as if every droplet was a different entity. We didn't go deep, but sat in the shallows, barely able to take it all in. I had always known the power of the ocean but never felt it, never experienced it in this way before. It crashed around us, merciless, unrelenting, hissing, bubbling, the sea foam dancing all around us.
One of the crazy swedes from the shack swam further out and he told us later the ocean was insane. He literally felt like he was riding a wild animal. Fantastic.
Nads and I left the frothing water, and shimmied back into towels and clothes. The fire by this point had been breached and completely swallowed by the water. Everyone was huddled around a large fire further up ground. Dawn told us later the Indian guys were laughing at us down on the beach and were further entertained by the drowning fire and us "kraaaaaazy" swimmers.
The moon by this point was almost swallowed whole, only a sliver of light could be seen. We could still hear the roar of the ocean, could see the thrashing spitting waves. The fire was a good size and roared back at the ocean. It was truly a natural phenomenon. I fell asleep that night next to the fire, listening to the sounds around me, exhausted by the experience I had witnessed.
The next day I was awoken by the heartbeat of the waves on the beach. Much of the shoreline had been altered slightly, sharper lines in the sand, sand banks were worn down. No driftwood etc. to be seen. Andy returned from the party. It had been nuts over there as well, the music completely bonkers, driving many into a worked up frenzy. More internally charged as opposed to the external show we had seen at our little beach. Quite the Paradise.
We would eventually leave Gorkana and head East to Chennai, where we'd catch the 3 day boat ride to the Andaman Islands. Probably the most incredible experience ever. I'm so grateful I recognized a good thing when I saw it.
Tonight this eclipse was quieter. The dog was the only thing worked up and I wonder how much of that was due in part to his puppiness. I woke Erick just before totality, and he came outside to see it. Cold, clear night outside. Perfect viewing.
My future self's advice to myself for the year ahead: Keep your head in game and don't lose hope. Be kind to yourself. Enjoy the little moments. Love your friends. Be thankful for what you didn't lose and what you have. Change is a given. Rewrite your stars.
My current self's words of wisdom to myself ten years ago: 2000. I was in India. In Diu, Gujarat. Just before the earthquake. About to enjoy a Christmas that I only just connected with some of the participants to remember what a great time that was. A week away from heading south to Goa for NYE, and Gorkana for the Eclipse. although I certainly didn't know it.
Hmmmmmmm. Don't over think things. Enjoy yourself. Make friends, stay in touch. Follow your instincts but don't forget to follow your heart too. Don't worry what if. Things have this funny way of working themselves out.
Ten years ago, almost to the day I had just re-met Nadia in Diu, having first met her in Pushkar. We were all eating at a long table in a restaurant. Corinna and I had just arrived and met up with Chrissy and Co. Dave and Nadia, Dawn and Andy were leaving the next day for Hampi. Nadia came up beside me touched my arm, said "it's good to see you again." I had smiled back and nodded, too shy to say anything else to this adventurer I so wanted to be friends with. Nads told me later she couldn't remember how she'd met me only that I was familiar, quiet, and that she was sad she was leaving because she wanted to know me better.
Connections within connections. In January Erick and I are heading down to Tulum, Mexico to visit Dave and Nadia in their eye shaped casa in the jungle. I love living with them. My only regret in life is not spending more time with them in Manchester, as they really wanted me to stay it seemed. My soul breathren. During my time at Bridgepoint Rehab Dave had seen my Facebook wall posts from concerned peeps and had messaged me. I told him what had happened to me, and he told Nads. They both sent me messages and cards throughout the year, even reminding me of the Hangi we did on the Andamans. Another pair of arms holding us up, supporting Erick and I through a very dark time. We are so lucky to have the friends we do.
We mix Tulum and Tofino up frequently. Both small touristy towns, beautiful, magical, holding so many good memories. Each representing a sister-friend - my Didi in Tulum, and my Banyani in Tofino.
Connections within connections.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Dr does not mean Right
I fucking hate doctors. The idiots. The plebs who got the title because they can figure out a multiple choice test, have a trust fund backing them, sucked the prof's dick or studied for hours without actually reading the words on the page.
THIS IS A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT!
Just because some yobo in a white coat comes in the room and introduces themselves as a doctor DOES NOT MEAN THEY KNOW WHAT THE FUCK THEY ARE TALKING ABOUT!
Being a doctor does not mean they understand what is wrong with you. If you are at a tecahing hospital, often the staff doctors will send the residents who will send the junior residents who will send the med students if their's one swanning about, full of themselves because they got into med school and if they can survive the next 5 years or so of pure torture they will be bankrolling $300,000+ for the rest of their lives.
So please, people, take your health in your hands. You have the absolute right to ID the person coming into see you and the eternal right to ask for clarification when they say "I'm on the medical team/ I'm one of the Doctors." You want to speak to the person who makes the final decision which direction your care goes. There are too many idiots with the title of "Doctor" running around discrediting all the good, intelligent Drs actually working and treating Pts and not mincing around tripping over their own ego. Ask questions. Own your health and the care you receive.
THIS IS A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT!
Just because some yobo in a white coat comes in the room and introduces themselves as a doctor DOES NOT MEAN THEY KNOW WHAT THE FUCK THEY ARE TALKING ABOUT!
Being a doctor does not mean they understand what is wrong with you. If you are at a tecahing hospital, often the staff doctors will send the residents who will send the junior residents who will send the med students if their's one swanning about, full of themselves because they got into med school and if they can survive the next 5 years or so of pure torture they will be bankrolling $300,000+ for the rest of their lives.
So please, people, take your health in your hands. You have the absolute right to ID the person coming into see you and the eternal right to ask for clarification when they say "I'm on the medical team/ I'm one of the Doctors." You want to speak to the person who makes the final decision which direction your care goes. There are too many idiots with the title of "Doctor" running around discrediting all the good, intelligent Drs actually working and treating Pts and not mincing around tripping over their own ego. Ask questions. Own your health and the care you receive.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 20
Prompt: Beyond avoidance. What should you have done this year but didn't because you were too scared, worried, unsure, busy or otherwise deterred from doing? (Bonus: Will you do it?)
Is it me or are some of these prompts repetitive? I'm not feeling this one.
However.....
2010 was in part about me discovering the on-line world. Namely the creative side. Etsy. The mecca of meccas for crafters, creators, artists. A springboard for a new business. I discovered so many amazing businesses and people via Etsy. Definately helped me rebuild myself so I owe them all serious props.
I really wanted to try owning an Etsy store. For vintage clothing and maybe adding something else, something that I made. I am so inspired by the creativity of others. What people are capable of creating with their own hands as opposed to a machine stamping out the same thing repeatively. Little differences here and there. Driven by passion, by expression. A friend of a friend started a knit wear store, inspired by her life on the west coast. This inspired me to knit again. And so I did, and during the winter olympics I sat in my Lazy boy and worked on a sweater, after being inprired by this person I didn't know and a colleague from work who believed in my abilities to knit. I am half an afternoon from being done. One more seam to graft, fix up any small tasks and then block. And then wear with pride.
My Etsy store was a venture with my sister. We were going to sell all our vintage and vintage-esque clothes. This task would keep me occupied with a modest income. The more time I spent online, the more I was exposed to the online entrepreneurial community. I found business courses and guides and bought some as an investment in my Etsy store dream or any venture I or E decided to do.
But I chickened out. Too frightened to risk exposure to failure my Etsy stores sits empty, a skeleton business plan drawn out but covered in dust. Maybe next year, when I am not so afraid.
I think I also caved due in part to my recovery status. 2010 was a hard year - much fatigue, pain and a busy rehab schedule. I figured I wouldn't have the energy to see to the day consuming tasks of owning an Etsy store. It is a full time job for many, a side project for others. I can only imagine how much time and energy it would take from me. Not one accustomed to fear dissuading me rom a chosen path, I kept glancing over my shoulder at my oasis of a dream. Of expression and creativity.
If this post seems disjointed, it is because it is. I am tired, you see. I've been up, looking and searching on Etsy. For inspiration. For my dream. For 2011?
Is it me or are some of these prompts repetitive? I'm not feeling this one.
However.....
2010 was in part about me discovering the on-line world. Namely the creative side. Etsy. The mecca of meccas for crafters, creators, artists. A springboard for a new business. I discovered so many amazing businesses and people via Etsy. Definately helped me rebuild myself so I owe them all serious props.
I really wanted to try owning an Etsy store. For vintage clothing and maybe adding something else, something that I made. I am so inspired by the creativity of others. What people are capable of creating with their own hands as opposed to a machine stamping out the same thing repeatively. Little differences here and there. Driven by passion, by expression. A friend of a friend started a knit wear store, inspired by her life on the west coast. This inspired me to knit again. And so I did, and during the winter olympics I sat in my Lazy boy and worked on a sweater, after being inprired by this person I didn't know and a colleague from work who believed in my abilities to knit. I am half an afternoon from being done. One more seam to graft, fix up any small tasks and then block. And then wear with pride.
My Etsy store was a venture with my sister. We were going to sell all our vintage and vintage-esque clothes. This task would keep me occupied with a modest income. The more time I spent online, the more I was exposed to the online entrepreneurial community. I found business courses and guides and bought some as an investment in my Etsy store dream or any venture I or E decided to do.
But I chickened out. Too frightened to risk exposure to failure my Etsy stores sits empty, a skeleton business plan drawn out but covered in dust. Maybe next year, when I am not so afraid.
I think I also caved due in part to my recovery status. 2010 was a hard year - much fatigue, pain and a busy rehab schedule. I figured I wouldn't have the energy to see to the day consuming tasks of owning an Etsy store. It is a full time job for many, a side project for others. I can only imagine how much time and energy it would take from me. Not one accustomed to fear dissuading me rom a chosen path, I kept glancing over my shoulder at my oasis of a dream. Of expression and creativity.
If this post seems disjointed, it is because it is. I am tired, you see. I've been up, looking and searching on Etsy. For inspiration. For my dream. For 2011?
Reverb#10 - Day 18
Prompt: Try. What do you want to try next year? Is there something you wanted to try in 2010? What happened when you did / didn't go for it?
I'd like to try getting on my bike. Even just riding a few feet. My physiotherapist wants to make this a treatment goal for May next year. The idea of riding in the city makes me want to vomit. Too soon.
I'd like to join the Toronto Temperance Society. I think it would be fun, a real treat, and a possible return to actually having a life. E and I enjoyed ourselves immensely last time. My sister and her boyfriend purchased a membership between them. This allows them and two others to enter the club and hang there. Drinks are $10. These are true cocktails, pre-prohibition style. All the ingredients are made in house. The menu is fantastic, a smorgasbord of tasty drinks, for a steal of a price. Plus they hold tasting nights, where a product is featured, and on those nights, the drinks are free. E and I have decided that or xmas our presents to ourselves is this membership. We could take our friends, have a night out twice a month. Have an actual social life. The club is above Sidecar restaurant, which has an excellent prix-fixe menu, in the heart of Little Italy. It'd be brilliant in summer. We also want to start a movie night twice a month.
We are also hoping our trip in January to Tulum will enable me to try diving and see if it is something I could do again. I hope so. If I can we are buying ourselves a full dive kit. And learning the maintenance for it. If not, maybe one day.
I'm also hoping to develop a creative side. I loved making the mouse ornaments for the ornament exchange. I got a sewing machine for my birthday this year so here's hoping I can have fun with it. My knitting continues, although I've frogged the same sweater countless times. Sigh.
Little things begin big things. Bunny steps.
I'd like to try getting on my bike. Even just riding a few feet. My physiotherapist wants to make this a treatment goal for May next year. The idea of riding in the city makes me want to vomit. Too soon.
I'd like to join the Toronto Temperance Society. I think it would be fun, a real treat, and a possible return to actually having a life. E and I enjoyed ourselves immensely last time. My sister and her boyfriend purchased a membership between them. This allows them and two others to enter the club and hang there. Drinks are $10. These are true cocktails, pre-prohibition style. All the ingredients are made in house. The menu is fantastic, a smorgasbord of tasty drinks, for a steal of a price. Plus they hold tasting nights, where a product is featured, and on those nights, the drinks are free. E and I have decided that or xmas our presents to ourselves is this membership. We could take our friends, have a night out twice a month. Have an actual social life. The club is above Sidecar restaurant, which has an excellent prix-fixe menu, in the heart of Little Italy. It'd be brilliant in summer. We also want to start a movie night twice a month.
We are also hoping our trip in January to Tulum will enable me to try diving and see if it is something I could do again. I hope so. If I can we are buying ourselves a full dive kit. And learning the maintenance for it. If not, maybe one day.
I'm also hoping to develop a creative side. I loved making the mouse ornaments for the ornament exchange. I got a sewing machine for my birthday this year so here's hoping I can have fun with it. My knitting continues, although I've frogged the same sweater countless times. Sigh.
Little things begin big things. Bunny steps.
Reverb#10 - Day 19
Prompt: Healing. What healed you this year? Was it sudden, or a drip-by-drip evolution? How would you like to be healed in 2011?
This year was all about healing. Physically I have done well. In January I could barely move without fatiguing, my backside was that of an octogenarian. I was thin, weak, frail. I didn't walk so much as shuffle. My main point of rest was my Lazy Boy. I couldn't cook, stand for long periods. I couldn't even lie in bed without constantly shifting, so my battered pelvis didn't hurt. Each night I wore a bone stimulator over my pelvis, to prompt the calcium cascade to regenerate my bone, cause them to grow and heal the breaks and cracks, strengthen the integrity of the entire pelvis. Fuse it.
Tonight, at the sunset of 2010, my situation is changed. I still walk with aids but I can stride longer, farther, stronger, more uniform in my steps. I can fend for myself and cook and clean, albeit slowly. I am tackling my cognitive issues, finding and developing strategies. I attended care conferences, physio, OT, psy-chology and -chiatry. I took the necessary steps of recovery.
Am I healed? I recovered from the summer surgery well. Much fatigue and pain and swelling but now I move so much more free-r. Baby steps.
This year was all about healing. Physically I have done well. In January I could barely move without fatiguing, my backside was that of an octogenarian. I was thin, weak, frail. I didn't walk so much as shuffle. My main point of rest was my Lazy Boy. I couldn't cook, stand for long periods. I couldn't even lie in bed without constantly shifting, so my battered pelvis didn't hurt. Each night I wore a bone stimulator over my pelvis, to prompt the calcium cascade to regenerate my bone, cause them to grow and heal the breaks and cracks, strengthen the integrity of the entire pelvis. Fuse it.
Tonight, at the sunset of 2010, my situation is changed. I still walk with aids but I can stride longer, farther, stronger, more uniform in my steps. I can fend for myself and cook and clean, albeit slowly. I am tackling my cognitive issues, finding and developing strategies. I attended care conferences, physio, OT, psy-chology and -chiatry. I took the necessary steps of recovery.
Am I healed? I recovered from the summer surgery well. Much fatigue and pain and swelling but now I move so much more free-r. Baby steps.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 17
Prompt: Lesson learned. What was the best thing you learned about yourself this past year? And how will you apply that lesson going forward?
I learned many things about myself this past year. Some good, some bad. Most valuable. If anything, the best was how adaptable I am. Having come off the worst four months of my life, with the next 12 months poised to be just as trying, I was pleased to discover that I developed an ability to adapt to whatever was before me. Be it falling down the stairs, keeping my cool when in a trying situation, or preparing to possibly have to take the stand to testify in the criminal case of the guy who caused the accident, I was able to keep it together long enough to get the job done. When my hairdresser cut my hair just a little too short from my comfort zone, I swallowed my tears, embraced the new, shorn me, and remembered that hair ultimately grows. Nothing lasts forever. Words to live by. Be it pain, distress, joy or a good bottle of Sauvignion from New Zealand, nothing is permanent. Change will always win. Being able to adapt is key to surviving this life.
The same is true for the most enjoyable moments. The week in Tofino for our friends wedding flew by and E and I knew it would. We tried to enjoy every moment while we could. The beach, the lodge, the cinnamon rolls. All spectacular. The big tree trail. Stunning. We also realized pretty quick we wouldn't do everything we wanted. Instead, we loved what we did do, and put the rest on the list for next time.
Going forward into 2011, I hope to keep this attitude of adaptability as needed. I've been to edge of my abilities. I can walk, I am alive. I have enough control of my brain to live independently and fulfill most of my dreams. I have a fantastic partner, of whom I owe so much. I have an incredible dog and a gorgeous cat. I have a supportive family. And a career in what ever form it decides to take. All I need to do is adapt which ever way I can and all will work itself out.
I learned many things about myself this past year. Some good, some bad. Most valuable. If anything, the best was how adaptable I am. Having come off the worst four months of my life, with the next 12 months poised to be just as trying, I was pleased to discover that I developed an ability to adapt to whatever was before me. Be it falling down the stairs, keeping my cool when in a trying situation, or preparing to possibly have to take the stand to testify in the criminal case of the guy who caused the accident, I was able to keep it together long enough to get the job done. When my hairdresser cut my hair just a little too short from my comfort zone, I swallowed my tears, embraced the new, shorn me, and remembered that hair ultimately grows. Nothing lasts forever. Words to live by. Be it pain, distress, joy or a good bottle of Sauvignion from New Zealand, nothing is permanent. Change will always win. Being able to adapt is key to surviving this life.
The same is true for the most enjoyable moments. The week in Tofino for our friends wedding flew by and E and I knew it would. We tried to enjoy every moment while we could. The beach, the lodge, the cinnamon rolls. All spectacular. The big tree trail. Stunning. We also realized pretty quick we wouldn't do everything we wanted. Instead, we loved what we did do, and put the rest on the list for next time.
Going forward into 2011, I hope to keep this attitude of adaptability as needed. I've been to edge of my abilities. I can walk, I am alive. I have enough control of my brain to live independently and fulfill most of my dreams. I have a fantastic partner, of whom I owe so much. I have an incredible dog and a gorgeous cat. I have a supportive family. And a career in what ever form it decides to take. All I need to do is adapt which ever way I can and all will work itself out.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 16
Prompt: Friendship. How has a friend changed you or your perspective on the world this year? Was this change gradual, or a sudden burst?
My view on Friendship in general has changed. I have no expectations anymore where friends are concerned. I've found it hurts too much whenever they aren't met. Until I am able to feel I can trust people and myself again, I will try to refrain from having expectations.
I mat discussed this before, but the notion that you learn who your friends truly are in times of crisis is so true. And it has surprised me. There were some that I thought hands down would stick by me. And although they initially visited me in hospital, once I was discharged home, they left, rarely returned my phone calls and seemed to not want to know me or my issues. My oldest friends did this. She was coping with big life issues of her own and perhaps couldn't handle anything else but I did think we would at least stay in touch and commiserate on the unfairness of life together. No such luck. I did get an apology of sorts a while back but when I've tried to follow up on how she is doing I get no response.
The same can be said for the emergency department I worked at. At the beginning, when I in he ICU and on the trauma unit, I would hear from people, friends would stop buy. I constantly received well wishes, etc. I was told once I felt up up it I would receive an enormous wave of visitors. Only a handful visited and once I was at rehab, very few. I went to social events when I came home - dinners, camping trips, I stopped by the department. But eventually I heard from no one, invitations weren't extended any more. I went by the department the other day and realized I didn't belong there any more, or so they all thought. Most odd. You'd think a group of nurses would be supportive and understand what I am going through, but again this is an expectation without thought. Just because someone works in health care doesn't mean they care. Or they understand.
My closest work friend was someone I knew from nursing school. She had gradated to the ER too, to everyone's surprise. I always got the impression she was afraid to go it alone somewhere else, so when I was accepted to work at MSH and I told her about it, she applied as well. The day of my accident she was with her mum, and a mutual friend/co-worker called her to tell her what had happened to me. She called E at the ER I was at, and she quickly became my families liaison between work and them. At the beginning she visited often. One of my first memories is her face. She was sitting next too me, giggling and smiling. Erick arrived then too and we all sat together, smiling. In my delerium I named her one of the pretty girls because she was, along with my sister and another co-worker. As I gradually got better her visits stayed frequent,but when the MRSA scandal hit, very soon she lessened her visits. Soon she would come only with someone else, and then not at all. I would see her at work events but she woulds always be with other people. I'm still not sure what happened. Maybe she finally got the acceptance she was after into the upper social echelons at work, and had no need for me further, as it was becoming doubtful I would be able to return to work at the ER. I miss her. I always knew I was more her friend than she was mine. The summer before the accident I was on medication to proactively treat a latent TB infection. I told my friend to keep this info on the down low, and she agreed but later outed me via joking around with our co-workers while working at Triage. I was so disappointed, as at first she tried to brush it off as a joke, but later apologized. It was then I realized we were friends so long as it was beneficial to her, much as it had been in school. I did hear from her recently when I was gearing up to present at the SMH trauma conference. She had initially told me she would be at the conference to support me etc. but later told ,e she couldn't get her shift covered and had to work the day of the conference. She didn't call me after to see how it had gone - I assume she heard what she needed to from those who went. Now that she had complete acceptance at work and was in the leadership ring that seemed to be the cool kids of the ER, I doubt I will hear from her much. Sad, but true.
I understand that life goes on for those still working and that mine is the only life affected by my accident. Crisis is a terrible time to lose friends, as it is then one needs the comfort and support of other people. But being supportive isn't many people's bag as ultimately it draws attention aware from the individual. Petty, but this seems to be what being an adult is all about. Self-interest, self-preservation. I am not truly in the thick of fending for myself, there is no buffer of youth to protect me. Once you are exposed to the darker sides of life, to many you are tarnished and not worth the effort of knowing. Adults are the most self-centered form of humans, even surpassing teenagers, which at first seems doubtful. Teenagers are all about their friends and the opinions of others. Adults seem to care less.
My view on Friendship in general has changed. I have no expectations anymore where friends are concerned. I've found it hurts too much whenever they aren't met. Until I am able to feel I can trust people and myself again, I will try to refrain from having expectations.
I mat discussed this before, but the notion that you learn who your friends truly are in times of crisis is so true. And it has surprised me. There were some that I thought hands down would stick by me. And although they initially visited me in hospital, once I was discharged home, they left, rarely returned my phone calls and seemed to not want to know me or my issues. My oldest friends did this. She was coping with big life issues of her own and perhaps couldn't handle anything else but I did think we would at least stay in touch and commiserate on the unfairness of life together. No such luck. I did get an apology of sorts a while back but when I've tried to follow up on how she is doing I get no response.
The same can be said for the emergency department I worked at. At the beginning, when I in he ICU and on the trauma unit, I would hear from people, friends would stop buy. I constantly received well wishes, etc. I was told once I felt up up it I would receive an enormous wave of visitors. Only a handful visited and once I was at rehab, very few. I went to social events when I came home - dinners, camping trips, I stopped by the department. But eventually I heard from no one, invitations weren't extended any more. I went by the department the other day and realized I didn't belong there any more, or so they all thought. Most odd. You'd think a group of nurses would be supportive and understand what I am going through, but again this is an expectation without thought. Just because someone works in health care doesn't mean they care. Or they understand.
My closest work friend was someone I knew from nursing school. She had gradated to the ER too, to everyone's surprise. I always got the impression she was afraid to go it alone somewhere else, so when I was accepted to work at MSH and I told her about it, she applied as well. The day of my accident she was with her mum, and a mutual friend/co-worker called her to tell her what had happened to me. She called E at the ER I was at, and she quickly became my families liaison between work and them. At the beginning she visited often. One of my first memories is her face. She was sitting next too me, giggling and smiling. Erick arrived then too and we all sat together, smiling. In my delerium I named her one of the pretty girls because she was, along with my sister and another co-worker. As I gradually got better her visits stayed frequent,but when the MRSA scandal hit, very soon she lessened her visits. Soon she would come only with someone else, and then not at all. I would see her at work events but she woulds always be with other people. I'm still not sure what happened. Maybe she finally got the acceptance she was after into the upper social echelons at work, and had no need for me further, as it was becoming doubtful I would be able to return to work at the ER. I miss her. I always knew I was more her friend than she was mine. The summer before the accident I was on medication to proactively treat a latent TB infection. I told my friend to keep this info on the down low, and she agreed but later outed me via joking around with our co-workers while working at Triage. I was so disappointed, as at first she tried to brush it off as a joke, but later apologized. It was then I realized we were friends so long as it was beneficial to her, much as it had been in school. I did hear from her recently when I was gearing up to present at the SMH trauma conference. She had initially told me she would be at the conference to support me etc. but later told ,e she couldn't get her shift covered and had to work the day of the conference. She didn't call me after to see how it had gone - I assume she heard what she needed to from those who went. Now that she had complete acceptance at work and was in the leadership ring that seemed to be the cool kids of the ER, I doubt I will hear from her much. Sad, but true.
I understand that life goes on for those still working and that mine is the only life affected by my accident. Crisis is a terrible time to lose friends, as it is then one needs the comfort and support of other people. But being supportive isn't many people's bag as ultimately it draws attention aware from the individual. Petty, but this seems to be what being an adult is all about. Self-interest, self-preservation. I am not truly in the thick of fending for myself, there is no buffer of youth to protect me. Once you are exposed to the darker sides of life, to many you are tarnished and not worth the effort of knowing. Adults are the most self-centered form of humans, even surpassing teenagers, which at first seems doubtful. Teenagers are all about their friends and the opinions of others. Adults seem to care less.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 15
Prompt: 5 minutes. Imagine you will completely lose your memory of 2010 in five minutes. Set an alarm for five minutes and capture the things you most want to remember about 2010.
Rescuing my dog: In April E was starting a new job which required him to be gone for long stretches of time. I was feeling quite stuck and meaningless, unsure of what to do with me days and so sick of me and my recovery. I'd wanted a dog for sometime. I knew of an organization that rescued unwanted dogs from the Northern reserves. When I went in on the website I discovered a new litter of puppies had arrived at the shelter and after discussing it with E, we applied for one. My Reiki practitioner had rescued a dog from said organization and wrote a letter of endorsement for us. Our lack of backyard was a strike against us but my including our intent to purchase a house in the summer softened said strike. Before we knew it, arrangements were made to bring the litter to our house for the in home interview. A truck pulled up outside the house. A large man knocked on the door, grabbed Erick and went back outside. Two minutes later a bewildered Erick arrived, carrying 3 puppies, followed by the owner and three more. In total 6 puppies arrived and ran all around the study. Two were tired and immediately fell asleep on either side of my sister, like book ends. This left us with a hyper female who was the runt of the litter, a soft, big eyed friendly male and a daydreaming, energetic male. This daydreamer was of different colouring to his siblings: brown red and white a white face with a black mask. It didn't take long to pick him. He became my world - it was nice to finally be looking after someone else. I quickly fell in love with him and here he sits beside me as I type this. He was a rescue dog was Higgins, but in actual fact I think he rescued me.
Other memories to keep are purchasing our house this summer, our trip out west, meeting Lucy, our cat, all over again when I came home. And finding ourselves together again, when all the dust had settled.
Rescuing my dog: In April E was starting a new job which required him to be gone for long stretches of time. I was feeling quite stuck and meaningless, unsure of what to do with me days and so sick of me and my recovery. I'd wanted a dog for sometime. I knew of an organization that rescued unwanted dogs from the Northern reserves. When I went in on the website I discovered a new litter of puppies had arrived at the shelter and after discussing it with E, we applied for one. My Reiki practitioner had rescued a dog from said organization and wrote a letter of endorsement for us. Our lack of backyard was a strike against us but my including our intent to purchase a house in the summer softened said strike. Before we knew it, arrangements were made to bring the litter to our house for the in home interview. A truck pulled up outside the house. A large man knocked on the door, grabbed Erick and went back outside. Two minutes later a bewildered Erick arrived, carrying 3 puppies, followed by the owner and three more. In total 6 puppies arrived and ran all around the study. Two were tired and immediately fell asleep on either side of my sister, like book ends. This left us with a hyper female who was the runt of the litter, a soft, big eyed friendly male and a daydreaming, energetic male. This daydreamer was of different colouring to his siblings: brown red and white a white face with a black mask. It didn't take long to pick him. He became my world - it was nice to finally be looking after someone else. I quickly fell in love with him and here he sits beside me as I type this. He was a rescue dog was Higgins, but in actual fact I think he rescued me.
Other memories to keep are purchasing our house this summer, our trip out west, meeting Lucy, our cat, all over again when I came home. And finding ourselves together again, when all the dust had settled.
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