Like a kid starting his first day at school, my “awakening” in the intensive care unit after my operation was disorienting. The bright lights, the hustle and bustle of urgent care requirements, and the knowledge and understanding that some part of this big machine was in service to my specific needs. And like a kid’s first day at school, I was nervous about how that reality would evolve as the days and weeks progressed.
And in those first minutes, waking from my sleep and watching the business around me, my paradigm started to shift.
I had spent the past few years searching for solutions to my worsening condition. And while I continued to use “hope” as the driver for my search, in reality I was fighting against the inevitability of the only solution that my future held. I felt through my search that I was hanging my hat on “hope” when in fact, the true emotion was “denial”. And the fear that having a hole in my neck would, in some major or minor way, take something away from my quality of life or puncture my vanity.
Now, sitting relaxed and breathing well, the hole in my neck represented new opportunities. Opportunities to improve my health, perhaps perform better in the sports that I play, and most importantly, to reset the rudder on our yacht of life and get Terry and I smooth sailing again.
That evening I moved from ICU to the less critical care Observation Unit. Contained in an open environment with patients lodged on the perimeter of the space and the nurses occupying a central pod, I healed and learned to maintain my new apparatus.
One of my major tasks while there was to gain weight. Problematic in one sense; who enjoys eating hospital food? But the food was actually good. At the end of my 5-day stay, my weight bounced up and down a few pounds, depending on what I consumed or didn’t consume on my meal tray.
But busy in the background, my support system, Terry, Allyson and Lindsey, were brainstorming “menus that Dad can eat” for when I get back to our Almonte home. My mouth watered as I read the various options on our group chat site. Another change: I had regained an appetite.
Leaving the observation unit on day 5 was bittersweet. The staff of nurses and doctors and specialists and support staff were incomparable. Their professionalism, empathy and friendliness all added to the power of healing I desperately needed. Matching those qualities with the technologies being used by these young and enthusiastic healers brought truth to the true value of the word hope that I had misused in my senseless search for a “cure”.