Friday, May 1 – Hold Your Broken Back Together
By Lisa Walsh ANTIGONISH, CANADA
Broken? Let’s talk broken…
My heart, it’s broken, my shell it’s very much so broken as I lay here and listen to the constant pumping of fluids and medicine going through my veins and the never-ending sound of the IV pump, trying to save my broken shell.
I’m tired, not just the normal tired either.
I’m talking about my soul, always fighting with my body and mind for peace.
I’ve been in this hospital for almost a week.
It’s been a blur.
In the last two days, I’ve been healthy enough to be coherent and move around a little more.
Which I am grateful for, it was pretty scary for a while.
I am grateful for getting better, but as I get better, the more impatient I get to get answers, to go home…
Patience has never been one of my strongest virtues when it comes to myself and medical issues.
Hospitals make me uneasy. I’ve spent most of my life in them and avoid them at all costs. Especially in the time of a pandemic.
I am confined to this unit, ( keep telling myself I’m safe)
My Covid test was negative, but we still don’t know why I’m so dehydrated, why my creatinine level is so high and why any of this started?
Why can’t I just be patient?
Why can’t I accept that I am here, I am safe, I am COVID free, and these nurses are trying to help me?
Maybe it’s from the years of Trauma and isolation I spent in The IWK Children’s Hospital from 12 until 18 years of age.
I don’t know any of these answers, or maybe I do.
All I am being asked to do is sit in a hospital bed and get hydrated, take my medicine, and do the daily routine.
Somehow at age 14, I found myself getting dialysis training, as to take that responsibility away from my parents and give them a break.
To become more independent and knowledgeable.
By 15, I was hooking up my own machine, hooking myself up to my own machine, etc.
Now 32 in 3 days, grown-ass woman, sitting in a hospital bed crying like a child because she wants to go home and is sad.
Grow up Lisa, this isn’t anything new, it’s life, and you’re lucky you’re still here, and you’ve overcome so much.
This is what I tell myself, and I know it’s true, but today I want to cry.
Today I am vulnerable, today I am tired of it all. I just want this kidney to be okay.
I’ve watched the virus from behind the comfort of my phone screen in my own home since it has started.
I kept telling people that it’s better than being stuck in the hospital during it.
Boy, was I right.
When I got into the hospital, I could barely keep my head up.
I suffered for 3 days before I ever gave in to my own stubbornness and asked my fiances sister to wake him.
He came and got me. The look on his face was wearisome and scared. I thought this may be the last time we see one another.
I tell him I love him and to look after himself and our cats. Whatever happens, they will need you.
It was quite sad and maybe over dramatic but as is life.
The rest of the night was a blur, I got seen, they admitted me. The next day they sent me to a ward, and now for the last two days, I am starting to get back to myself.
There have been many questions as to why I got sick, why my kidney function went down, and still what is causing some of my problems.
I think the doctors are just as hopeful as I am, that it was viral, and now it is passing, and I am on the mend.
It’s like a twilight zone in the hospital.
You’re not allowed to go anywhere off the unit, you can’t go outside to get fresh air. The nurses and doctors look scared and uncomfortable and yet still try to ease their patients’ troubled minds, bodies, and hearts.
I’ve grown even more fond of how they are presenting themselves with their masks, gowns, tired and scared eyes, and over washed hands.
As I lay in my bed with no mask, getting waited on hand and foot.
How selfish of me to shed tears for myself.
These heroes in their uniforms, masks, gloves, have to go home after this.
They have to worry if one of their patients like “me” has given them something that they could take back to their families.
I will put my big girl persona on now. I’ve cried enough.
It will all be okay.
We will all be okay.
I haven’t watched the news in almost a week.
I couldn’t tell you if the numbers have climbed, stayed the same or any of that.
Maybe it’s a good thing I haven’t. It was starting to take a toll on me.
I am hoping Nova Scotians have heard Dr. Strang and the HONORABLE Premier Stephen MacNeil’s plea and have stayed the blazes home since I’ve been stuck inside the battlefield walls.
I am ready to go home now.
I am ready to put this behind me but never let it slip my mind as it can all be taken away so fast.
I will wait for my doctor to come to my room and bring me the good news.
I hope you all rest.
I hope you all find peace.
I hope you all find a little something to hold your broken back together.