CAPES & SPANDEX 

🦸

1.

"Ma'am, what would you like me to do?" 

"Uhm... let me go home. Why do you ask as if there's a different option, doc?" 

That was the slippery start of the conversation for my discharge from my two-week holiday in hospital. Of course, taking the holiday was not me, but my lungs. Having a fancy time being dysfunctional, while the rest of my body sort of had to sit around and beg for oxygen. The doctor, a substitute for my primary pulmonologist, seemed uneasy about letting me go home. Sounds like a 'him' problem. I went home. 

With the removal of the J-loop from my hand, I was bumped off the infinite hospital loop. Joy!

A J-loop is an intravenous adapter that allows pretty much anyone to inject chemicals

directly into your bloodstream, thereby bypassing the mouth, throat, and stomach. Pesky organs that delay the dispensation of vital medication! 

A J-loop is also a stray dog, umgodoyi, that reminds you that you're not in control. It mocks you while you take a shower by bringing out a tiny smidgen of blood, to remind you that you're in fact sick. The dressing around it gets wet and needs to be changed. More mockery. 

2.

I delayed telling anyone that I am free, lest they stop me at the door and tell me that they just received the last blood results and I'm patient zero for COVID23. No ma'am! I was going to get into my mother's car and be out the hospital gate before I informed concerned loved ones. 

Far too many times I have told them that I'm "basically discharged," only to cause them discomfort when they, the following morning, check how I enjoyed my own bed, and... yeah.

Such is the chokehold that the illusion of control has on us humans. At the slightest loss of it, we react with theatrics. 

I was out of there. I was back "in control." I was free. I was happy!

3.

Happy. I am happy. Right? I needed my freedom to achieve a level of joy. So, why am I crying? These are not tears of joy. I'm crying funeral tears. Okay, not 'funeral', but like "the next-door neighbour's 3-legged dog died" tears. 

The sense of relief I was expecting, was replaced by defeat, fear, helplessness, and loneliness. 

My mother, fully expecting the doctor to keep me for another night, had not prepared to stay over at my place to look after me. As her eldest, I did not want my retired mother to be inconvenienced in any manner. I reassured her that I needed time alone with my son. That is true. However, time alone with my son need not be without my mom. I know. I'm not making sense. But I'm making sense to myself. 

Sad. I was sad. Hurting, really.