The Intensive Care Specialist looked at me and then glanced back at the monitor above my head. My blood pressure had been slowly creeping ever higher. Quickly weighing up the possible causes and their treatment options he asked if I was in pain.
I had been unwell with a lung abscess for more than twelve months. The consensus from my multitude of specialists was that medical treatment was best, but so far getting better had continued to elude me.
The sudden onset of weakness smashed into me like a rogue wave, washed me off the seeming stability of terra firma, landed me in a swirling torrent of water, and then a rip proceeded to drag me relentlessly out into the deep and never-ending ocean. The water rolled over my head and it felt like I was about to drown.
The venetian slats across my window imparted to my room the confining atmosphere of a cage. Towering buildings dominated the view, with only a small patch of sky peaking through at the upper left corner. For the majority of my hospital stay this had been grey and bleak.
My head whirled while my pulse pounded like a drum in my ears. I was dizzy, nauseous and tachycardic, and I had almost reached the point of giving up. I had no idea what to do next. The easiest thing would be to just die. That’s what it felt like my body was trying to do anyway.
Despite my outward calm, inwardly I was being crushed by despair. Resolutely holding back my tears, I methodically packed my bag. After five long days in hospital, alternating with four even longer sleepless nights, I was now heading home, none the wiser as to the cause of my myriad of symptoms.
Beauty for Ashes 