Maria, the orthopedic patient.
and on healing sensibilities
At the hospital, there's a patient who has a fracture near her ankle. Her name is Maria.
I first talked to Maria briefly after three consecutive weeks of running into each other in one of the hospital's waiting areas. There's two of them (three if you count the beautiful area under the trees that’s guarded by stairs that are an orthopedic patient's nightmare). One is indoors, the other is outdoors. I always sit outside because even with the relative temperatures of 28-32 degrees Celcius, I'd still rather be outside than in a room with fluorescent lighting.
When I first saw her, she was being wheeled down to the outside waiting area. We made the hesitant eye contact that all patients make when they see another patient waiting with them. No words were exchanged for the next few times we saw each other in three weeks. When I look back, those three weeks are a blur. I didn't register anything much outside the hospital staff and my brother. Even if we did manage to strike up conversation on those three Wednesdays when we saw each other, I doubt I would have remembered much. My head was too much of a pit that was screaming for this torture to be over, such that I could go back to the calm quiet of the village, where I wasn't expected to smile and have conversation with anyone.
Maria is always accompanied by family. One who I think is her sister, and one other faceless person I cannot recall. One day, I want to ask her about them. About her story. Because if there's one thing I've learnt, it's that people have such interesting stories at that hospital. And who better to trade stories with than someone else in a cast and with crutches/in a wheelchair as well?
But Writer, you may ask, If you haven't traded stories, then how do you already know so much about Maria? We were bound. We've seen each other at our most vulnerable without ever exchanging secrets. We've unwittingly been there for each other's "Oh shit" moments when you happen to be a high-risk patient. And boy, have we had several of those with me. If it wasn't the slightly dislocated knee forever swelling up, then it was the open wounds that covered 2/3 of my shin acting up.
It was always something. I was such a worrying sight.
I'm happy to say today, dear Reader, that though the goalposts have changed and I now have new pains to catalog, my body is healing. My mind and I are postponing dealing with that trauma in-depth till retrograde season next week. Or when I call that therapist. Whichever happens first.
Today, while I was at the hospital, I stopped to talk to Maria. My surgeon (who I found out is our surgeon) wasn't around and I was going to the restrooms. Maria and I share names. I called out to her, and she called out to me and it was one of those funny jokes that only the two of us could share. That and the physical limitations due to our fractured bones.
Our paths hadn't crossed in a while, and for the first time since I can't even remember when, I stopped in the middle of what I was doing, to talk to her. It's been a while since I've actually wanted to have small talk with someone who isn't already one of my friends. And that, my friends, is how I knew I was on my way back to being okay.
I love talking to strangers. If that curiosity, that need to experience people through their conversation, is absent in me, then I know that I am barely alive. That it is within sight, is something that revives me in a way I cannot put into words.
Today I'm grateful for;
Interesting strangers
2021 snapchat
Friends that sing like angels
Bwaise main(back)roads and
My plug without whom this blog post would not exist. Mwah
Thank you for joining my musings today. If you're enslaved by corporate, I hope the Easter Weekend brings you much rest and happiness. For my friends in the hospitality industry, mpa ku gig.
Drink water,
Burn some sage, and
Send a message to the Universe by saying something into the wind under the branches of a tree.
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