Part of me is afraid to get better, because part of me is afraid that I won’t be able to write about my experience if I get better.
As long as it’s still painful, I will be able to write about that pain, but as I get better and heal, I’m afraid I’ll forget the pain, and not be able to write about it.
I’m afraid that the father and father I get away from the experience, the less and less I’ll be able to write about it, but I can’t write about it very often.
To put myself back there, see the sights, hear the noises and feel the pain isn’t always that hard, because it happens on it’s own sometimes.
But… To put myself back there, write about it, and really get into it, needs to be done when nobody’s home, and our house is full of family that both live here and don’t live here, with people dropping by both expectantly and unexpectantly.
I love my family, and I want them to drop by as often as they wish. I kinda hope their broken shower never gets fixed, and they always have to come over to our house to shower, but constant busyness in our house diminishes my space and alone time to write as often as I wish.
And that makes me afraid that I will have to choose between healing and forever pain.
I want to write the storey.
As soon as I awoke from sedation I wanted to write it, because knew that not that many people knew about the ICU. The nurses were talking about another viral challenge that children and teens were doing that causes ICU admissions in some of them.
One of them asked “Don’t they know it could put them here?”, but that’s just the problem: even if they are told that, they don’t know what the ICU is, or what it’s like to be that sick.
All they know is what they see in TV, the movies and books. They see both Liz McDonald and Leanne Battersby from Coronation Street, getting run over by cars, having everybody visit while they are in the hospital and then a few weeks later being back on the street, without any problems. Seemingly everybody forgets they even had a problem.
It doesn’t matter what TV show, movie of book it is the story is all the same: some character ends up in the ICU, family close around them, drama is high, and then they are out, and that’s the end.
But it’s not the end. The pain of the ICU lasts so much longer.
They don’t see the pain or the lasting damage.
They see a chance to miss school for a few days or weeks, and then instant healing, followed by life going on the way it always did.
I read a very good article written by an ICU doctor, who said nobody understands the work he does.
Truthfully I don’t either, because I’m not a doctor of any kind, but what I do know, is I am so glad that somebody was there to save me when I needed saving.
I thought that somebody was trying to suffocate me, but I’m glad somebody was there.
Thank you. Very very much, to all the ICU doctor’s, nurses and staff out there who do what you do, even though you are misunderstood.
You know you’re story, but you don’t know mine, and that is another reason I want to write this.
I knew you didn’t know what it was like to be under sedation, and I knew I had to tell you, if I wanted to make the ICU experience of the people who came after me, better than my experience was, and I knew having previously written (unpublished) novels, that I could do it.
Nobody can help or fix, problems they don’t know about. I want the emotional problems sedation causes to be recognized and dealt will, but in order for that to happen, I need to tell you what those problems are.
I did not know that ICU staff are misunderstood as well, until I read that previously mentioned article.
After reading it, I realize that I can also express what the ICU is like, and make the ICU staff and environment more understood as well.
I want to do this. I want to tell my story. I want to make things better. But I’m afraid that as I get better, I’ll be less and less able to do it, because I will remember less and less, and be less and less able to put myself back there, and describe what it’s like.
Or will I?
I have always kept a diary. Because I knew I wanted to do this, I wrote everything down in my diary. Every experience or memory, I wrote down as it happened. I asked for scrap paper from the nurse, and wrote down my experiences of sedation.
I wrote my emotions, my actions and my thoughts.
But I wrote it down, out of order, and I’m kinda stuck trying to figure out what order to put everything in, and how to write it all out.
So for now… I don’t know when my next chapter blog post will be, and I don’t know when I’ll get unstuck, but please know, I am trying, and you will get another chaptered blog post soon. I just don’t know when.
Just don’t give up on my, quit following me, or quit being interested, before I work it all out?