Back in 2012, I wrote a fairly depressing post about it
being five years since the cruel and unfaithful God had so wantonly destroyed
my life with the disabling brain tumour without ever bothering to lemme know
what I’d done/not done that was so dreadfully sinful and unforgivable to
deserve such a fate. Then, in 2013, I wrote a much more cheerful post
describing my joy of being released from the insane asylum (more commonly known
as the Brain Injuries Rehab Unit of the Princess Alexandra hospital to everyone
else XD) for five years. Only I totally forgot to pen another happy post at the
beginning of 2014, describing my joy of not having had to stay in hospital
overnight for five years! I have a good excuse for that: the parents and I were
having a great time exploring Tasmania!
Mother was going crazy with seeing all the beautiful scenery Tasmania has to
offer; I was too busy trying to discover the reason as to why I didn’t see the
two heads on the Tasmanians, as I’d been assured by two Tasmanian guys, that they
apparently all had. XD
I actually had three hospital stays altogether: my initial
one that lasted, from date of admission till date of release (including the two
weeks I had off for Christmas and New Year when 2007 became 2008 and the extra
few days I threatened the hospital that I’d run away for if they didn’t lemme
out to celebrate my momentous twenty-first birthday, which very luckily also
coincided with the Easter long weekend!) was a crazy one YEAR, three MONTHS and
twenty DAYS! Then, near the end of 2008, I was admitted to the Mater Private (and
gosh, I had a copy of the Courier Mail delivered TO MY BEDSIDE every morning,
as opposed to just having ONE copy to share
between the ENTIRE WARD back when I was in the insane asylum), after I think my
MRI showed something wonky with my otherwise
empty brain; however, I begged the neurosurgeon to please release me from
hospital before Christmas – understandably, I didn’t wanna spend Christmas in
hospital! – and she was awesome, releasing me on December the 23rd! That
night, the parents, Aunty A and I immediately went and saw all the pretty
Christmas lights before they got turned off. My final short stay at the
hospital (the Mater Private again) was just when Uncle Dickdick, cousin Teresa
and Franco came visiting from Hong Kong; my idiot head suddenly decided to
plague me with very persistent but low-grade headaches and mother somehow
reached the neurosurgeon, who said to bring me in. During that stay, she
replaced my shunt with another one, some programmable electronic one called a
VP shunt, which led me to go around joking, “I’m a cyborg now. I’m planning to
start my world domination plan very soon, so if you don’t want me to come and
destroy where you live first, you’d better tell me which suburb you live in.” XD
My initial lengthy stay in the insane asylum was a very
traumatic one for me. Guess I must’ve been a complete wuss back then (I
probably am still now, but shh … XD), coz I’d be plagued with bad dreams, then
I’d wake up and be too terrified to fall back asleep again for fear of the
cruel and unfaithful God sending me yet another awful dream of how I was
disabled, useless and abandoned forever. Even now, just over 6.5 years on, I
still vividly recall the terror I felt standing on the road where my house is
located, frantically turning around in circles, crying out for help, then
remembering how the cruel and unfaithful God’s left me so physically disabled I
technically can’t spin around in circles and falling down … at that point, I’d
suddenly jerk awake, terrified. Clapping my hand over my eyes so I couldn’t
accidentally see (post brain-injury, I can’t fully close my wonky right eye;
that’s why I wear eye gel at least twice daily and eye ointment every night)
and cry out to God, telling him, “God, I’m so scared .. I’m so frightened …
look, I’m so sorry for whatever it was I did/didn’t do that pissed you off so
much that you thought it was just punishment to totally destroy my life, but
please, when I open my eyes, can you please let my parents still be here for
me? Even if they’re just about to go, please, God, I’d feel so much better!”
Of course, whenever I opened my eyes, I was all alone. I’d
cry myself back to sleep (silently, of course; I knew you couldn’t just
suddenly have a noisy meltdown in the middle of a sleeping ward! XD), only for
the cruel and unfaithful God to yet again send me another terrifying nightmare.
Believe me, sleep really wasn’t an option back when I was in the insane asylum;
at first I cried out to God asking Him to please heal me; when He refused and
instead furthermore sent me awful nightmares how I was all alone, disabled and
abandoned forever I begged Him to please save me; when He wouldn’t I asked Him
to please love me, because surely I’d feel better and safer if I could feel His
protective love cocooning me! When even that was denied, in the end, I just
pleaded with Him to BE THERE FOR ME, only that was beyond Him too! ><
You can believe me when I say that when I was first released
from the insane asylum, all I did was SLEEP! Like, I’d sleep until like 11/11:30am,
get up, eat some breakfast, do some reading/watching television, have a light
lunch, then say, “Okay mum, I’m sleepy. Going for a nap now.” Only a nap wasn’t
like thirty minutes; it was more like three/four HOURS! After getting up, I’d
eat dinner with the parents then watch some television/read and come 8:30pm/9pm
I’d be like, “Mum, I’m sleepy. Bedtime, good night.” Then the whole process
would begin again, me sleeping till very late in the morning, taking a huge
extended afternoon nap then hitting the sack very early at night. This lasted
for about one month, and got to the point where mother was beginning to think
she’d take me to see a doctor; surely it wasn’t normal for me to be sleeping my
life away?
Luckily, around that time, I began to pull out of it, and
now, I’m fine with the recommended eight hours sleep that most people get,
although I really do love the occasional sleep-in! Turns out I really just
needed to catch up on all that missed sleep when I was still imprisoned in the
insane asylum!
Life back home wasn’t easy for me at first. Disability
Services Queensland originally refused to gimme any support, meaning poor
mother was flat out looking after me. Actually, I believe some random church
aunties suggested taking my story to shows like Today Tonight in a bid to get
some support! Luckily, that wasn’t necessary, and now, to this day, I receive a
little support most days of the week for personal care (i.e. showering) and
community access (my fortnightly Garbo shopping trips and attending Toastmasters
at QUT.)
But if I was released from the insane asylum in May 2008,
how come I’m writing this five years’ post in 2015, not 2013?
Ahh, I have two more short hospital stays to tell you about.
The first was in December 2008; I think when my MRI
showed something wonky with my otherwise empty skull. This time, I was taken to
the Mater Private hospital, and I’ve gotta say, what a difference! Firstly,
every morning, TO YOUR BEDSIDE, you got delivered a copy of the Courier Mail! I
remember back when I was still imprisoned in the insane asylum, there was only ONE
copy of the Courier Mail for the ENTIRE WARD. Every morning, Habib (the awesome
Algerian man who fed us breakfast and morning tea) and I would share it; like,
I’d start reading it; when he finished serving morning tea he’d come sit beside
me and I’d hand him several sheets of the paper. We’d swap around until he had
to leave and start preparing lunch. So you can understand why I was
super-impressed with receiving one entire paper for myself!
Another wonderful thing was that the nurses somehow dragged
over a spare bed for mother, meaning she was able to stay with me during my
short stay. Mother was so upset when she found out this; maybe if she’d known
to send me to the Mater Private right away when the cruel and unfaithful god so
cruelly smote me down with the disabling brain tumour, she would’ve been able
to keep me company after everything went pear-shaped and I wouldn’t have had to
be tormented by all those horrid nightmares! She truly was super upset, tearing
up and begging my forgiveness. Me, I was like, “What’s there to forgive,
mother? We didn’t know that was possible before. Besides, you’re here now.”
My only request of the doctor who did the daily rounds was
please to lemme outta the hospital before Christmas; I mean, wouldn’t it be
simply AWFUL to haveta spend CHRISTMAS in hospital?? Luckily, the awesome
doctor saw reason, discharging me on the 23rd of December. I still
remember how that very night, dearest dad immediately took aunty A, mother and
I out to view the all Christmas lights before they got turned off!
My final hospital stay requiring me to spend multiple nights
in the hospital happened shortly after that, sometime in January 2009. I’ve
forgotten specifically why I needed hospitalisation, but I suspect it may have
been because I kept suffering low-grade, persistent headaches. Like, I’d get a
headache and mother would pop me two Panadol, but eight hours later I’d be
saying I had another one. Again, mother contacted the neurosurgeon, who said to
bring me back in again, but this time, when I went under the knife, the
neurosurgeon replaced my old shunt with what’s called a VP shunt! You can Google
what VP stands for, but basically it’s a small programmable electronic chip,
which led me to go around jokingly saying, “Hey, I’m a cyborg now, and I’m
planning to start my world domination plan very soon, so if you don’t want me
to ravage and destroy your hometown first, you’d better tell me which suburb
you live in.” XD I actually had two operations that time; the first for the
neurosurgeon to remove the old shunt and the second one for her to install the
new one in, meaning for awhile, I was attached to some drip bag that drained
all my excess brain fluids and whenever I went for a shower, I had to drag that
portable drain with me; how annoying!
The good thing was that mother again was allowed to stay
with me, meaning nightmares were no longer a problem. I mean, sure, when I was
first released from the insane asylum, I’d still wake terrified at night that I
was useless, disabled, abandoned and alone forever, but after awhile I’d wake
up, realise that I was back home, in my own bed and therefore safe and sound.
Hopefully God found someone else to torment; after all, considering the bazillions
of people populating the Earth, surely, surely, I can’t be the most hateful
person on earth to him??
One more cool thing from living in the Mater Private Hospital:
instead of coming out to a communal eating area every day like I did when in
the insane asylum and eating from a fortnightly menu (seriously, I’ve been out
of BIRU for like 6.75 years now, and I still remember that you get chicken
salad for lunch on Mondays, pork salad on Tuesdays, egg and cheese salad for
Wednesdays and beef salad for Thursdays! ><), you ticked what you wanted
from a printed sheet and it got delivered to you! I still remember that one
night for dessert, I got an upside-down pineapple cake! Now that was cool~
So endeth the long and boring tale of my hospital stays.
Hopefully I will never have to spend another night in one ever again!
Next post here … think I’ll be writing something about my
prayer life; righteo, until then!
Cheers,
Em. ^^
No comments:
Post a Comment