The Chorus of Concussion :
Ramblings from a post seizure, concussed and vaguely delirious woman. I have been asleep for most of today, but I’ve been haunted by the childlike figure of the man I saw yesterday. He has played on my mind and so I have to write a few words and make the agitation and sadness more tolerable. I have concussion and a headache so please forgive any grammatical errors or my over use of exclamation marks … bear with me, have heart!
Is it possible to feel any more melancholy than in the month of January?
Yesterday I spent over 8 hours in Hospital in Accident and Emergency with a very noisey goat!
For the most part I was either confused, asleep or wide awake and desperate to be confused , removed or fast asleep because the reality was much much worse. ( please note: The goat was purely of my own imagination/ confusion and turns out to have been another poor misplaced soul, called Vera, with a terrifically bad cough….pneumonia /given intravenous antibiotics – moved to ambulatory care. No visitors …)
I spent most of the day on a trolley in the waiting area of the Main Nurses hub, because all the cubicles were full to capacity. There at a the pc station were a Dr and Matron, sat calmly ( calm in the face of chaos! Amazing job! ) for the most part doing what sounded like code breaking or quantum physics on speed. It was like a game of musical bingo beds. Patient 21 moved to bay 7, bay 8 occupied with patient 4, 3 moved to resus, 18 to 4, so on, so on….over and over and interspersed with results to interpret and attending to the high volume of patients, frenectically coming and going, over and over. The logistics of illness is fast paced and they were absolute professionals and have my up most respect for being so efficient and caring as what felt like a “shit storm” continually lashed around them.
It was very busy ALL of the time. There was no quiet time. There was no peace, it felt and sounded like bedlam, or the zombie apocalypse as lost elderly patients wondered round staring blankly at walls and quietly the nurse would reassure them and take then back to their allocated spot. Poor vacant faces, such confusion.
maybe I randomly slept through the quiet time for the half hour I was in a cubicle with the lights down but the rest of the day was spent under the stark bright Hospital lights, which are not good for a patient who has just had a seizure and head injury.
Every ring of the phone next to my trolley felt like noise torture and I would jolt but there was absolutely no where to move me to, the Only peace for me was when I had my brain scan which meant going into the tunnel and lying very still. I actually wanted to stay in there! Oh the silence ….
Anyone post Seizure Just wants to sleep, to recover, to be calm. This was impossible and yet I am totally in awe of the staff whom work at the Hospital and the dedication and care they offer, often in the face of extreme pressure and with very demanding patients and complicated tasks to complete.
I didn’t want to be taking up space at Hospital but because I had hit my head on the door frame during my seizure and then again on the floor as I landed ( fell) I had to be checked out. ( nothing serious just concussion and to rest / recover from the Seizure)
so what made me feel so melancholic whilst watching the wonderful care administered by the staff and carers of the patients?
Displacement …and not just of the elderly patrons at the hospital but as a wider platform in society, how even now in January 2017 Donald Trump is trying to displace and dehumanise and ostracise people. In general it feels like things have taken a turn for the worse. ( or is it just my jumbled emotions post seizure?) ( I aspire to be an optimist. I am an optimist! Look for the helpers. Be a helper ….) but these turns of events are worrisome.
There were so many elderly people whom were suffering from dementia and had had falls, or urinary tract infections, that at 39 I was probably the youngest person in there.
This was Just a normal cold mid winters January Monday but the A&E was fit to burst with dear poorly elderly vulnerable geriatrics. Most of them were alone or had paid carers get up and leave because their paid time was up.
It felt so sad and I desperately wanted to leave but I desperately wanted to help, I tried. I really tried.
One frail old man, alone and clutching onto the trolley for dear life was wheezing his last breaths, I’m sure of it. He had his oxygen mask on and looked and sounded very poorly.
I wanted to stroke his hand and tell him it was all ok and ” Please don’t worry you’re not alone ” but after a seizure I’m very wobbly and unsteady on my feet so I couldn’t leave my bed. I also don’t make any sense at all as my brain is scrambled and exhausted. My vocabulary is diminished and the tiredness so overwhelming. I can still see his fragile hand in my minds eye, clutching onto the rail)
I feel bad that I take up the hospitals time when poor old people are dying alone.
I felt displaced too as my role should have been with my son, at home, not immobile and pathetic, however from my trolley bed I was able to get help for the man as I felt his breathing was deteriorating and they took him around to resus, they understood my jumbled speech, “him, him, old chap, help him, please !” they listened to me.
Maybe he didn’t die, maybe he got better. Maybe my perspective was all wrong. Maybe I wanted to focus on him so I didn’t have to think about me. I like to do that.
Anyway, I kept smiling at him as my bed was adjacent to his, but he had a fixed glassy stare, up at the harsh lights above him. I hope he could see Angels.
I was so glad to leave Hospital , and so glad that I can recover but each seizure makes me feel all the more vulnerable yet all the more blessed as well , for the love and joy I have in my precious, fragile beautiful life.
I often worry about how unpredictable epilepsy is but then I realise that life is one big unknown, life is unpredictable.
” There go I, but for the grace of God”
tomorrow is February ….. forwards….
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