The 'to do' List

When shit hits the fan, it doesn't stop spinning. I think this recent hospital stay was the one I was best prepared for, if there can be such a thing. Since the last time, I took it upon myself to have an overnight back packed and ready with everything from my toothbrush to my Acer Aspire One netbook and cell phone charger. Being pre-packed didn't make things that much easier, but at least my stay would be a little more tolerable once the worst was over.

Being admitted as an emergency patient is always a traumatic sequence of events that no matter how many times I endure, just never seems to get any easier. When I'm at that point of having to call for an ambulance to take me in, so many things go through my mind, from 'NO NOT AGAIN!', to how bad a mother I am for once again having to leave my children to become the responsibility of other family members at such short notice. It's gotten to the point that I have to have a back pre-packed for them also. That's the best part. The worst is seeing the fear and sadness on their faces when I finally admit I cannot take anymore, I need to go to hospital. It's like a form of surrender, selling out to abnormal gene that dictates who runs this ship. During those times, I am not only beaten physically, but emotionally and mentally too. I hurt in ways that are never documented in medical text books.

When I come home, it is not because the pain is 100% gone, it is because there is not much else that can be done for me. I'm often still in pain, and now in need of a a serious detox to rid my body of all the residual traces of morphine and it's side effects. I can walk again unassisted, though not very far before my legs threaten to give way, or my vision blurs for how doped up I still feel, despite my last dose having been admitted over 24 hours prior. I physically feel like shit, emotionally I'm drained and at this point I'm tearful, wondering what the hell this is all about. Why am I here, I'm a waste of space, there is no point in trying if it all amounts to me arriving at this same place time and time again.

But the world doesn't stop turning, when I come home, though I'm barely sentient, my awareness is drawn to the fact that this bill arrived while I was away and has to be paid asap, and that form has to be filled in or one service or another will be cut off. At the same time all the people that wanted a piece of you before you went in are on tenderhooks hurrying you to get well, because they still need your help with heaven knows what.

All I want to do is curl in a ball and cry. I'm still in pain, can I have a moment to pull myself together please?

Phonecalls: 'why didn't you tell me you were in hospital?' Seriously, its nothing personal, but making an announcement that I'm not sure if I'm gonna make it through this time, really wasn't at the top of my list of things to do.

Emails: 'I've sent you 'zyx file' can you edit, format, upload etc for me by tomorrow please!' Google is your friend people, and guess what, the service is even more free than I am!

Children: 'What are we going to eat today?' OMFG the kitchen might as well be in New Dehli for how far it seems for me to get there. Oh what you want me to cook too?

Letters: 'We need your response yesterday!' Your lips, my arse! Take a fricking number.

By sheer grit and determination, I make it up to my room and once I'm there, I'm struggling to figure how to make my head stop spinning. I fall on the floor and decide I may as well use this opportunity to take my shoes off and then, in my delirium I shove them in the wastepaper basket. I take of my coat and tuck it into bed then wonder what's wrong with this picture. I finally get that the awful taste in my mouth is a warning I would do well to heed, except when I look at my prescription, I want to burst into tears as I wonder whether is it the white tablet or the pink one I'm supposed to take to counteract the need to hurl Exorcist style across my cold laminate flooring? Between the pain that has yet to cease, and envying my snug looking Rocawear coat, I'm trying to practice sounding 'okay' for the person who wont stop ringing the godayum phone.

The most gutting thing of all is knowing that this isn't my having an off day. This is my life as a person living with sickle cell. At times like this, all I can do is lock off for a couple of days, shed tears till I have no more, then pick myself up and get on with life, whilst in the back of my mind, secretly waiting for the punchline.

This is the aftermath of having being admitted to hospital for a severe pain episode that was beyond my ability to manage at home. Don't let even get started on what the pain is like.