My last few days were quite hard. Pregnancy (which I am extremely happy about, but even more than that – scared), many days in hospital (just to make sure everything is alright)… I was hoping to get home on Friday, but instead I went yesterday. It was not that nice: I hate hospitals in general, as you know, you are not landing there if you are fine. I remember from my childhood visiting my grandmother, she used to be connected to strange machines. She used to spend most of her days in various hospitals. At least at some point of her life. I loved to visit her, we were very close to each other.
However, each of those visits used to be connected with some sort of pain. In hospital’s beds people seem to be much smaller than they really are, at least for me. They are pale as well (maybe because of illnesses causing them to be there). And what I would like to say, might seem scaring, but I can feel death there.
As a child I spent my first years of my life in hospital as well. I don’t remember too much from that time. Only thing, what I remember, were curtains over some beds (I was in one room with many other children).
Those curtains were scary. They were there and I could hear crying from behind them, a lot of people. One day, I’ve asked a nurse, what those curtains are and why so many people are crying there (usually only one child was taking a bed). She told me, that parents are coming to take their children home, as they feel better now. I was very happy for them. I was dreaming about my own curtain, where my parents will come not only to visit me, but to take me home.
Everything changed around one week before I’ve left. I had my final tests, just to make sure I am ok. I was getting ready, my parents was with me, but there wasn’t any curtain. I explained to my dad my worries, that I don’t think they are going to let me go home. They always give you a curtain in this situation.
And this was the day, I’ve realised, that people behind the curtain were dieing, instead of going home. I had in my head faces of so many friends of mine, who left this world this way. And it started to make sense to me, why people were crying. Obviously, there were no joy tears, as I used to believe.
I remember especially one girl. I don’t know her age, but older than me (at that time she used to carry me). I remember one time, when only we two were in our room, and she asked one question: “Daria, I am not going to have any children, so would you like to be my daughter?”. The only think I understood, was that we are going to play family and I was glad, that I am going to play with someone, who seemed adult for me (eventhough she couldn’t be older than 15, otherwise she wouldn’t be in same ward as me).
She suffered from cancer. My disease was much less damaging and dangerous. For next few days, we were going everywhere together. She used to look after me, put me into sleep, help me change…
Both of us were of these unlucky one, who’s parents lived quite far from the hospital and could visit us only once or twice a week.
After sometime, I saw curtain around her bed as well. I couldn’t sleep that night. In the morning I saw people leaving her bed. All of them crying. I asked them, where is she and got an answer, that she was in the better place.
I was disappointed. First of all, she hasn’t say goodbye to me. Second of all, she hasn’t take me with her. After all I was her daughter, wasn’t I?
I used to cry like mad. For many days, finally, same women who said to me that my friend is in a better place, brought me a letter. I don’t remember actualy, as it was long, long time ago. But it was from my friend, they found it in her stuff. She wrote, that she is going to wait for me and when time will come, she will meet me where she is now.
I still felt sad, but much better. At least I knew now, that I am going to meet her at some point. Well, I haven’t.
I don’t know why, but since that time hospitals bring this feeling to me. Like you can smell death there (as a child I didn’t know what this smell is, but now I understand). And I still can feel it. Every hospital make me wondering, how many people died here, maybe on the same bed I am at the moment.
This post is a bit more sad, than motivating. But to make it feel better, I would like to tell you one lesson, I”ve learnt by these experiences: you never know, how much time left for you, so make sure you’ll make great use of it. Take advantage of every moment you have, so in case if something happen, you’ll have great memories instead of regrets. Is it going to help? I don’t know. But at least good memories are better than regrets.
So with this less positive post I am leaving you today. And I wish you all a very productive day. And I’ll see you tomorrow in my programming’s post.