1) I Almost Died, This Is Where the Noise Stopped
My body shut down, the world went quiet. Twenty-three days in a hospital bed, months of laying flat, no screen time, no scrolling. Just breathing. That’s where the reset began.
(iINSSERT6 PIX OF THE END)
The Sequence
First there was a small procedure, a little biopsy from an intimate place. Easy. Nothing to concern anyone about, I hadn’t got any results yet so nothing to report, no need to worry anyone. That went well. I stayed with Y&G for a few days and then returned to my snow-covered sanctuary, Grace.
(INSERT PIX OF GRACE IN SNOW)
The next day was a fever. The third morning I took a quick self-porn photo that showed black flesh. I blinked. Fever and a deep desire to stay right where I was tempted me with warm blankets and endless videos. I sent the picture to my un-shockable retired RN sister, and she said “ER stat!” She’s hard to scare so I started to think about working my way past the 200 foot driveway with 14″ of snow on it. See if the plow has been by. Tired. I don’t know if I can driver. The pirate next door was out and about. I asked for help.
The next hours are remembered as rushed. A road-rage filled ride to the hospital with a neighbour. Sitting in the wrong waiting area for hours before being redirected to the right one. The triage nurse’s tired inquiry about my visit. The photo came in handy then. I got a bed. I asked my nurse Will for pain meds – he gave me his critical, ‘drug seeking or not’ gaze. I showed him my picture and then the live version. He left to get pain meds and as he walked by the nurse’s station I heard him whisper, “that poor woman”. I knew then, I was in trouble.
*****Necrotizing Fasciitis*****
The Process
The following days were frantic and fantastical. Family faces rushing in. Stern masked doctors with factual updates on how were were going to deconstruct my body to save my life. Tubes and bags hanging around my bed like New Year ‘s streamers. This was working, this wasn’t – ostomy, catheter, NG tube. Days of pain when I didn’t remember who I was. Twelve year old nurses officious and brief. I learned the rhythm of the ‘meat factory’, meds and fluid management. No food for 12 days. Ceiling gazing during the trips to get diagnostic tests – images and x-rays.
The Place
I relearned how to meditate. I became my breath and was present. I calmed panic with a song and worry with a ‘shhh’.
(INSERT ‘ITS OKAY’ YT VIDEO)
I said mantras and reached for light. I called on the ancients and my ancestors. I visualized the faces of those who I had loved and had already died. I saw how they looked at me when they loved me the most.. I messaged my FB group with updates and as a way to keep track of what was going on. The pirate brought me my sewing.
I found new places inside of me. In this crucible of pain and presence, everything extraneous burn away.
But this journal isn’t about that…..
This journal isn’t about illness.
It’s about what happens when the noise finally stops —
and what I choose to do next.