Drugs. Emotions. Power.
"You wouldn't believe it, Megan. I was driving along Hastings, off to visit a student, and I saw this huge line outside a building. I thought to myself, 'What venue is that...HERE...of all places? Plus this is a weird time of day for a concert. What are they lining up for?'...and then I saw it, the sign above...it was the safe injection cite."
I wasn't surprised. I'd been telling this friend all about a recent walk through that same area, and how I'd had to actually watch my step, because there was so much heroin-ish paraphernalia all over the ground. But still, it broke my heart again to hear about it.
We're not that far off, any of us, from waiting in that line.
Shocking, I know. And some of you out there might disagree. But all it takes is a few (really) bad decisions. Or...a prescription for something we don't really need. Or...a severe injury that leads to a prescription. Or...a traumatic experience, or multiple traumatic experiences. Maybe even...the simplest inability to process our emotions.
See, the list isn't that long.
Life is hard, I think we all know that.
The other day I had a surgery. It was what I'd like to call a "mini-surgery", because it was an in-and- out of the hospital procedure. I was only there for about three hours.
I think we all know that surgeries and medical things and "procedures" can be scary, even if we're not the type who already experiences high levels of anxiety in day to day existence. I'd procrastinated the bulk of my anxiety for the actual day. And then I took it out on the people I love the most, here and there, as we do. And then I felt bad about it. And then that fueled more of my emotions. So by the time I got to my little curtained room, and they had me change my clothes, and I was all alone awaiting my doom, I lost it.
Soon after this I discovered the well-placed tissues, and a nurse with the kindest of faces came in. I lost it some more. I mean, more than I had on the way there, and more than I had when I was in the little curtained room by myself. I lost it. Because here she was, this objective, kind, knowledgable person--so safe! She VALIDATED my feelings, instead of just saying, "Don't be scared. It's no big deal." She looked at me with kindness and empathy, completely without fear or judgement. I felt so much better. I mean, still scared, but so much better.
We got to talking a bit, as she busied herself with the tasks that had to be done in preparation. I told her, through tears, that I'd had three babies at this hospital, so part of my problem was that the place brought back a lot of emotions. She said, "Oh. Were they traumatic births?"......"No, not really," I said. (I mean, giving birth IS kind of traumatic isn't it??!). See, mostly the babies thing was just part of it, as I said. There were so many emotions associated with having my babies there, so many memories, so many "that was another life" thoughts. And then, and then there were other experiences I connected with that hospital. And with hospitals in general. And with hospital related tools and protocols and looks and smells and all that.
"Have you ever been violent with a healthcare worker?" she asked me in her long list of questions.
"No," I said. Kind of smiling inside, thinking how ridiculous the question was as it lightened my mood...and then thinking how scary that idea was! And wondering how often such incidences happened!
I mean, why not?...
The emotions are high in a situation like this. And their power is strong.
You know that whole thing about: have control over your thoughts to help you control your behaviour? Well, what gets in the way of that? Emotions!!! Right? I guess it could be more complicated than that (or more simple?)...but no matter how we look at it the connection should be clear. I can think of many, many, many times when I've let this very useful tool we have--emotions--get the better of me, take over, hijack a situation, make it worse. Sure sure sure they help too, emotions. But how often do we let their power take over? How often do we have seemingly no choice in them taking over? Like in this little hospital room?
I was so nervous. I couldn't believe how nervous I was.
But it was funny, because as I heard other women carrying on outside my prep area I realized I wasn't alone. I mean, literally, because I wasn't alone in needing to have a mini-surgery...but also in the emotions department. "It's crazy! I've had a CESAREAN! I've been CUT OPEN! Why am I nervous about this?" I heard a woman say, as I saw her feet walk by under my curtain, toward her own little prep area. "Yeah, really!" her nurse--not as empathetic as mine(!)--laughed.
It was hard to control my thoughts. All the wonderings, all these ideas of surrender and powerlessness and unknowns I was thinking, that were leading me to FEEL things. Things I couldn't control! The crying helped, though. But "just enough", as my Grandma Hope always told me. "15 minutes, and then say 'that's enough' and get up and do something else,"...oh how many times have I thought about that wonderful advice!
Do you know people who can't cry? Are you one of those people? You want to, but you just can't? That must be really, really rough. I've heard it from men--especially--on far too many occasions. Men who want to cry, but can't. Not much good comes out of that.
Because these powerful feelings must be felt and passed through us! We can't simply hold them in. Or we'll burst or we'll die inside. And neither of those options are great.
I'd let these *I have to have a mini-surgery to make sure I don't have cancer* emotions start passing through me, after having mostly bottled them up as I saw fit.
With the crying and the nurse, though, my anxiety had eased up.
But...heading into that NEXT ROOM...no turning back...that was the final test.
The nurse had set me up with an I-V so I'd be all ready to receive the medications that would help during the procedure. She had told me that I'd be awake, and conscious, but that I shouldn't feel much of anything, and that for some people afterwards they don't even remember what happened. (Creepy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
Ok ok ok, no turning back.
There were three people in the room: my doctor, the kind nurse, and some other nurse who chit-chatted a tiny bit over the sounds of the radio. "Hmmm what a good idea! Play the radio!" I'd thought to myself. Then the nurse told me she was going to give me my meds. "Ok," I braced myself. I don't like to feel *out of it*...I'm afraid of that. But...no turning back.
She gave them to me. I don't know what they were. It doesn't matter.
They were powerful.
All of the sudden, and I don't know where it started except to say maybe it started everywhere, this feeling of complete and utter calm and relaxation came over my whole being. My body, of course. But more powerful than that--my mind! my emotions! This was suddenly NO BIG DEAL. In fact, it was kind of fun, kind of amusing, and I felt a sudden kindred-ness-of-spirits with all three of these ladies in the room!
Just. Like. That.
The power.
Is that what that line-up was about? The one my friend had told me about? I wondered this to myself, the next day, 24 hours later once all of the medicine was out of my system.
Don't get me wrong, I have NO interest in really finding out! But...I think that's a big part of what that line-up was about.
"How was the piano playing?" I asked Simon yesterday. He'd gone to play piano at an outdoor spot by the seawall for some of the time I was resting.
Also, "Want to see the video I did?"
He played me some of the recording he'd made there, and I played him my video. He laughed, "We both had to get some emotions out apparently!" Yeah, we did.
They're powerful, these emotions.
And if I lived in a heightened state of anxiety all the time, like the way I felt before my surgery, well that would be absolutely exhausting! And terrifying!
I know some people out there who do.
Hopefully you have people around you like that nurse, who understand, who look at you with kind eyes, who give you information. And hopefully you know how to cry, or make art, or whatever works. Hopefully you don't end up in that line.
That line my friend spoke of.
That line might be the worst one.
There are others, though.
I'd like to stay far, far away from any of them.
And just try to be the nurse.
I hope people who find themselves in those lines know where the nurses are.
But...more importantly...I hope more people realize we're all a little bit in both places.
I wasn't surprised. I'd been telling this friend all about a recent walk through that same area, and how I'd had to actually watch my step, because there was so much heroin-ish paraphernalia all over the ground. But still, it broke my heart again to hear about it.
We're not that far off, any of us, from waiting in that line.
Shocking, I know. And some of you out there might disagree. But all it takes is a few (really) bad decisions. Or...a prescription for something we don't really need. Or...a severe injury that leads to a prescription. Or...a traumatic experience, or multiple traumatic experiences. Maybe even...the simplest inability to process our emotions.
See, the list isn't that long.
Life is hard, I think we all know that.
The other day I had a surgery. It was what I'd like to call a "mini-surgery", because it was an in-and- out of the hospital procedure. I was only there for about three hours.
I think we all know that surgeries and medical things and "procedures" can be scary, even if we're not the type who already experiences high levels of anxiety in day to day existence. I'd procrastinated the bulk of my anxiety for the actual day. And then I took it out on the people I love the most, here and there, as we do. And then I felt bad about it. And then that fueled more of my emotions. So by the time I got to my little curtained room, and they had me change my clothes, and I was all alone awaiting my doom, I lost it.
Soon after this I discovered the well-placed tissues, and a nurse with the kindest of faces came in. I lost it some more. I mean, more than I had on the way there, and more than I had when I was in the little curtained room by myself. I lost it. Because here she was, this objective, kind, knowledgable person--so safe! She VALIDATED my feelings, instead of just saying, "Don't be scared. It's no big deal." She looked at me with kindness and empathy, completely without fear or judgement. I felt so much better. I mean, still scared, but so much better.
We got to talking a bit, as she busied herself with the tasks that had to be done in preparation. I told her, through tears, that I'd had three babies at this hospital, so part of my problem was that the place brought back a lot of emotions. She said, "Oh. Were they traumatic births?"......"No, not really," I said. (I mean, giving birth IS kind of traumatic isn't it??!). See, mostly the babies thing was just part of it, as I said. There were so many emotions associated with having my babies there, so many memories, so many "that was another life" thoughts. And then, and then there were other experiences I connected with that hospital. And with hospitals in general. And with hospital related tools and protocols and looks and smells and all that.
"Have you ever been violent with a healthcare worker?" she asked me in her long list of questions.
"No," I said. Kind of smiling inside, thinking how ridiculous the question was as it lightened my mood...and then thinking how scary that idea was! And wondering how often such incidences happened!
I mean, why not?...
The emotions are high in a situation like this. And their power is strong.
You know that whole thing about: have control over your thoughts to help you control your behaviour? Well, what gets in the way of that? Emotions!!! Right? I guess it could be more complicated than that (or more simple?)...but no matter how we look at it the connection should be clear. I can think of many, many, many times when I've let this very useful tool we have--emotions--get the better of me, take over, hijack a situation, make it worse. Sure sure sure they help too, emotions. But how often do we let their power take over? How often do we have seemingly no choice in them taking over? Like in this little hospital room?
I was so nervous. I couldn't believe how nervous I was.
But it was funny, because as I heard other women carrying on outside my prep area I realized I wasn't alone. I mean, literally, because I wasn't alone in needing to have a mini-surgery...but also in the emotions department. "It's crazy! I've had a CESAREAN! I've been CUT OPEN! Why am I nervous about this?" I heard a woman say, as I saw her feet walk by under my curtain, toward her own little prep area. "Yeah, really!" her nurse--not as empathetic as mine(!)--laughed.
It was hard to control my thoughts. All the wonderings, all these ideas of surrender and powerlessness and unknowns I was thinking, that were leading me to FEEL things. Things I couldn't control! The crying helped, though. But "just enough", as my Grandma Hope always told me. "15 minutes, and then say 'that's enough' and get up and do something else,"...oh how many times have I thought about that wonderful advice!
Do you know people who can't cry? Are you one of those people? You want to, but you just can't? That must be really, really rough. I've heard it from men--especially--on far too many occasions. Men who want to cry, but can't. Not much good comes out of that.
Because these powerful feelings must be felt and passed through us! We can't simply hold them in. Or we'll burst or we'll die inside. And neither of those options are great.
I'd let these *I have to have a mini-surgery to make sure I don't have cancer* emotions start passing through me, after having mostly bottled them up as I saw fit.
With the crying and the nurse, though, my anxiety had eased up.
But...heading into that NEXT ROOM...no turning back...that was the final test.
The nurse had set me up with an I-V so I'd be all ready to receive the medications that would help during the procedure. She had told me that I'd be awake, and conscious, but that I shouldn't feel much of anything, and that for some people afterwards they don't even remember what happened. (Creepy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
Ok ok ok, no turning back.
There were three people in the room: my doctor, the kind nurse, and some other nurse who chit-chatted a tiny bit over the sounds of the radio. "Hmmm what a good idea! Play the radio!" I'd thought to myself. Then the nurse told me she was going to give me my meds. "Ok," I braced myself. I don't like to feel *out of it*...I'm afraid of that. But...no turning back.
She gave them to me. I don't know what they were. It doesn't matter.
They were powerful.
All of the sudden, and I don't know where it started except to say maybe it started everywhere, this feeling of complete and utter calm and relaxation came over my whole being. My body, of course. But more powerful than that--my mind! my emotions! This was suddenly NO BIG DEAL. In fact, it was kind of fun, kind of amusing, and I felt a sudden kindred-ness-of-spirits with all three of these ladies in the room!
Just. Like. That.
The power.
Is that what that line-up was about? The one my friend had told me about? I wondered this to myself, the next day, 24 hours later once all of the medicine was out of my system.
Don't get me wrong, I have NO interest in really finding out! But...I think that's a big part of what that line-up was about.
"How was the piano playing?" I asked Simon yesterday. He'd gone to play piano at an outdoor spot by the seawall for some of the time I was resting.
Also, "Want to see the video I did?"
He played me some of the recording he'd made there, and I played him my video. He laughed, "We both had to get some emotions out apparently!" Yeah, we did.
They're powerful, these emotions.
And if I lived in a heightened state of anxiety all the time, like the way I felt before my surgery, well that would be absolutely exhausting! And terrifying!
I know some people out there who do.
Hopefully you have people around you like that nurse, who understand, who look at you with kind eyes, who give you information. And hopefully you know how to cry, or make art, or whatever works. Hopefully you don't end up in that line.
That line my friend spoke of.
That line might be the worst one.
There are others, though.
I'd like to stay far, far away from any of them.
And just try to be the nurse.
I hope people who find themselves in those lines know where the nurses are.
But...more importantly...I hope more people realize we're all a little bit in both places.
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