Being a patient - for real this time.

This time last week I was recovering from general anaesthetic. Hence my absence from writing. Beforehand I was a little anxious and just didn't have the headspace to write.  Afterwards, I was recovering, sleeping and thinking and just needed space.

Thanks for bearing with me.  Thanks also for the love and support sent my way at this time.

While I'm very experienced in being a patient interacting with the health care system, I'm not usually sick. Everything feels completely different when you're confronting surgery. From the moment of walking in the front door of the hospital (if you're lucky enough to be able to walk in), doing paperwork and making payments, to following instructions and having observations taken, the power relationship shifts. Suddenly I went from being an independent woman who acts on my own behalf and decides whether or not to follow rules and obey instructions, to being completely passive and following all instructions without question or comment.

Luckily I had a solid and trusted person with me who helped me keep perspective and stop me from worrying myself into a puddle on the floor.

Waking from a general anaesthetic is surreal.  One minute you're listening to the friendly and soothing chat from the anaesthetist as whatever marvellous stuff he has given you starts to loosen your hold on consciousness; you're noticing a mask being placed over your face.  Next thing you're hearing your name, you're somewhere else and you're in pain.

Pain was attended to swiftly and with gentle concern. Even as I shook uncontrollably for what seemed like ages, I was aware of the care and attention I was receiving. When the shaking didn't stop, I started to become distressed and tears started to flow. It seemed like a biological reaction which I was observing from afar. Unpleasant. It took a long time to make it out of the first stage of recovery. I kept falling asleep and my oxygen saturation was low. An alarm kept sounding and I was being reminded to breathe. I would and the alarm would stop.

I was relieved to be moved to another area and see my friend arrive. God knows what we talked about. I can't really remember. I hope I wasn't rude and didn't reveal any secrets.  A different nurse took over. She  didn't introduce herself and I felt she was very matter of fact and not very empathetic. My friend said she was doing a fine job from his perspective and I should appreciate that. I did. I've spent so much time thinking about and teaching empathy to health care professionals that I really notice when it's not there.

We arrived home after 8pm and my friends changed shift. My friend who stayed the night had a quiet night of it. The next morning I thanked her for staying and apologised for there being no middle-of-the-night emergency. We both have an appreciation for drama and she said she was a little bit let down she hadn't been required to play the scene requiring her to drive me somewhere, in my car. The kicker is that it would have been her first driving practice in about 20 years.

We both understood that we were joking.

On Friday, I had a half day of simulated patient work. I was back in a hospital gown and lying on a trolley. While the case was very different from my own circumstances, I felt that my recent surgical experience was adding to my authenticity in the role. Several students checked to see whether I would be okay as they finished their exam station. (Now that's empathy!)

Monday, I was back in shapeless blue piece of material, hopefully (ironically?) referred to as a "gown" as I went to have an MRI on my knee. (This is the one I fell on back in August.) The procedure was straightforward and painless and required me to follow one simple instruction: lie perfectly still.  Suddenly, this was an impossible task. My right arm was at a funny angle. Could I move it? Only it? Surely if I just shifted it a little, it wouldn't move my right knee?  Would it? I can't breathe! Oh, yes I can, but am I moving too much when I breathe? Or maybe I'm not breathing enough? Is that why my left big toe is suddenly incredibly ITCHY? I've got pins and needles in my left hand! Just lie still! Just lie still! Only 17 more minutes to go. I hear the machine go quiet. The technician reads my mind and just as I think I can move, her voice instructs me through the headphones to "keep lying still...only five more minutes to go...you're doing really well!" Look how much my chest moves when I breathe! How deeply can I breathe without moving my whole body? Wow, suddenly I'm aware of my earlobes...

And so it went for the whole 20 minutes.

I was told I'd been very still and given a well done as I carried my basket of clothes back to a cubicle to extricate myself from what I hope will be the last gown I'll wear for real for a while.

Farewell Amanda - reflecting on life and death.

Amanda with the Love Rug knitted for her, square by square.
Used with permission.

Today I went to a funeral. The funeral was for Amanda Rynne about whom I've written before. Only two years ago, I wrote about the contribution I'd made to a "love rug" for her following the news that she had breast cancer.

Today we said goodbye.

I didn't know Amanda that well, but am very close with people who were very close to her.  I went to her funeral to mark the fact she and I were connected and show myself as part of the community of people touched by her.  I also went to support my friends who were also close to her.  A very large church was filled with people dressed in red at Amanda's request.  There was laughter and there were many tears as stories were told and life and death contemplated.

Melbourne turned on wild and unpredictable weather. Throughout the service, the wind sounded like a woman humming.  I imagined that it was Amanda singing as we heard about Amanda's love of music.  This contemplation was interrupted by the sound of a baby gurgling or crying. I thought about the bookends of life; beginnings and endings; innocence and pain.

The blanket we made for Amanda rested on her coffin today.  My first glimpse of it caused the first tears of many to flow.  I walked out with a handbag filled with soggy tissues.

Forty-one is young to have life taken away.  I reflected on my own life and wondered whether I'm living it in the best way, fulfilling it in every aspect. It's good to think about these things.

I drove another friend back to her home afterwards and we shared a cup of tea together.  Her extroverted four year old daughter came out and introduced herself.  She gave me a hug and asked where we had been.  I told her that we had been saying goodbye to a friend.  Of course she asked why we were saying goodbye.  I told her that our friend wasn't coming back anymore.  She thought about this and nodded and then told me she really liked my shoes! It was lovely to be surrounded by the life pulsing through this little girl.

And so life goes on.

The news on the radio in the car as I drove to work carried a story about new drugs available for the treatment of breast cancer.  I hope they work. Too many lives are affected by this disease.

One thing that has stuck in my mind from the homily was that there are only three things you need to be able to say to the people in your life: I love you. I'm sorry. I forgive you.

Amanda, I'll miss seeing your gorgeous photographs on Instagram.  It was nice to know you Amanda, even a little bit. It was clear from today's turn out that you touched many people. A life well lived.

My favourite things this week

1.  I know that the death of someone is not usually something that would turn up in a post like this, but jazz musician Dave Brubeck's death caused me to dust the cobwebs off the playlist and rediscover his music.  It's been a while.  From that exploration, I went for a wander around iTunes into Miles Davis, Thelonious Monk territory and have been feeling mellow and groovy ever since.  I even took some jazz for a wander around the piano keyboard myself.  I did it for hours this evening and it made me feel happy.  Oh and when will we be able to get the soundtrack to the television series Homeland?  I'm in the mood.

2.  Brief encounters have been a theme this week: a coffee here, a lunch there, a truncated work assigment, a few lines in an email.  They've all been good and left me wanting more.  Ah the freedom of freelance.

3.  Lying down on the job.  Today I was doing some simulation work that required me to lie on a hospital bed for the day.  I had my vital signs taken several times.  It was very relaxing - so relaxing that I had trouble staying awake.  Playing with the buttons on the adjustable bed is fun and provided some amusement in between students.  If they didn't look so hospitally, I'd get one of those beds for home.  My scientific observation for the day: my resting heart rate for most of the day was around 60 beats per minute and my temperature was about 36.8 degrees Celsius.  I had a styrofoam cup of instant coffee (bleh) to try and stay awake and immediately after my pulse was 74 beats per minute and my temperature had risen to 37.1 degrees Celsius.  I can only imagine what a good quality short black would do.  Or an encounter with George Clooney.

4.  Work offers that are exactly what you want, what you need and at the right time for everyone.  There's nothing else to say about that.

5.  This website:  The World Needs More Love Letters.  Sign up, why dontcha?  I have.  (Thanks to my friend Sue who put this in front of me.)

I'm nearly on holiday!  Only a couple more pieces of work for the year and I'll be onto my summer holiday reading list and crazy nail polish colours and plotting my novel.

Birthday reflections.

I wasn't going to turn my computer back on today and enter the online world, but at the end of another birthday, I feel the need to say a few things.

Rather than railing against growing older, I embrace my birthdays with exhilaration   How wonderful that I am still around to share and celebrate another year!  As I do grow older I  hear stories of people who do not have that opportunity.

In the digital age, it's great to hear from a variety of people.  Greetings are public, private, personal, heartfelt, auto-generated, funny, surprising, touching, bland.  Whatever they are, someone has made the effort to think of me and reach out across the bandwidth, just for a moment.  I like it!

Today I received a birthday card from one of my Twitter followers.  We were working together yesterday and she recognised me.  Somewhere along the line, I mentioned that today was my birthday and today she presented me with a funny, handmade card.  I was delighted.  What a great thing!  Why not be the kind of person who gives or sends a birthday card to people they have met? It spreads goodwill and good feeling and that's a good thing.

This wasn't a birthday ending in zero so I didn't have a big shindig.  I'd been surrounding myself with friends who had been wrapping me in love, so I didn't do anything spectacular.  I slept in this morning; had a conversation with a prospective client and went off to lunch with a friend.  We happened to be working in the same neighbourhood and she took time out of her day to meet me.  We enjoyed sitting outside in the warmer weather.  I worked for the afternoon and then had dinner with a close friend this evening.  In between I read emails, facebook posts, text messages and took calls from friends and family.  I arrived home and listened to the messages on my answering machine - one from my four year old nephew, exuberantly shouting "Happy birthday Aunty Tanya" .  His message started with the cue from my sister whispering "go, now".

I wore a new dress today.  Rich emerald green.

I examined my face intently.  To me I look the same - except for those annoying grey hairs that I'm sure the hairdresser sprinkles in after each visit - but I know that I do not.  I don't have worry lines or frown lines.  You can see that I laugh.

I feel serene.
I feel happy.
I feel like my hard work is paying off.
I feel intensely interested in my work.
I feel valued.

I feel loved. The most important feeling of all.

Thank you everyone.  I actually feel like this most days.  It's wonderful.