Part 7: Birth and Death

After my surgeries (the big one and the emergency one), there was nothing left for me to do but lie in the hospital and recuperate. That I could handle! I was put on blood thinners to prevent any further problems. I was on patient cruise control.

Naturally, I had a lot of time to think on my hands, as I was not even allowed to get out of bed for five days. A very unusual concept for me, as I am the type that loves to run around and "do" things. I didn't even feel like reading much, either, because I was too tired.

I started thinking about birth. My son had been born in another hospital in Santa Monica, but my daughter had been born in the same hospital where I was now. And what joyous occasions the birth of my children had been! I mean, bringing life into the world is the BOMB! :-)

Suddenly, however, I could relate to babies in a crazy sort of way, too. Lying in my bed, I was completely, utterly helpless and reliant on others for EVERYTHING. The highlights of my days were visitors (thank you dear friends!), meals and baths. No wonder babies cry when they want to be held and fed! That's all they've got going on! A person -- no matter what age -- can go nuts just lying down all day. And I can certainly tell you that warm sponge baths are beyond awesome when you are bed ridden!

I lost track of days and nights, too. I woke up at all hours; sometimes it was on my own account, other times I would be in a nice slumber when my doctor or nurse would wake me for one reason or another. One night I had a terrible nightmare, thanks to all the pain meds. I dreamt that I was at some kind of Mardi Gras, but there were devils and ghouls out to get me. Kind of like Michael Jackson's Thriller video but for real. Fortunately, the night nurse woke me up for something. I felt as if I'd been rescued from a terrible fate. I thanked her and said, half-asleep, "There's evil everywhere!" I'll never forget the look on that poor nurse's face!

Besides birth, I also thought about death. I thought about death, because I was surrounded by it. While I was still in the ICU I noticed a group of visitors going back and forth in the hallway for several hours. Then I noticed they were all leaving, crying. I could just tell...the looks on their faces, the sobbing, their posture...someone they loved had died. So sad!

Two days later, I was finally moved out of the ICU, but to a room that was right next to the ICU unit. Sure enough, I watched a new parade of people going in and out of the ICU. I got to know their faces. This went on for a day or so and then I heard a shriek. Looking out of my door, I saw the familiar faces only this time they were in agony. One woman could barely stand up, she was consumed with grief. Other family members held her up. All the nurse told me (I asked) was that the deceased had been "young." At times like these, you see how vulnerable life can be. I so appreciated being alive. And I wanted to go home desperately!

Finally, on day six I was allowed to get out of bed. I was incredibly dizzy; but sitting in a chair for an hour was a real victory! On day seven, I met a physical therapist who took me for a walk around the halls using a walker. I saw people of all ages in their rooms, with their visitors, their balloons, their flowers. It felt great to be on my feet. Actually, let me take that back. It actually hurt like hell, but I was glad to make progress. If I was lucky, I'd get to go home tomorrow.

Tomorrow came and I went home!