Almost two weeks in Hospital, starting with vomiting myself empty for 4 days here at home.
No known reason the docs could discover, no infection, no strange food, not too much wine which anyway just makes me sleep an extra hour or two. I seem to remember I have tried.
I remember the last time it happened. I was three. I do remember how my papa drove me full speed to the nearest hospital and my ma sitting at the sick bed, tea spoon feeding me water, one every 15 minute or so. It stuck in my memory.
This time it was my wife, Yui, feeding me spoons of nourishing liquid, for vomiting patients and sports people running like idiots too long.
So they put in an outlet into me for no discernible reason except to avoid having me running around in between the heart and breathing monitors. The cables once fell out of me, and they found the result hard to interpret, guess they did not want that to happen to others, those whose only sign of life was that wiggling line on the TV monitor.
After that a guy came with an empty wheel chair and packed me in, me overloaded with my stuff, to another dept. passing the freeze rooms in the culvert down under, with those rats. The rats were alive.
Such a wonder - I got a double room all for myself, like heaven after all that wheezing and coughing!
My hallucinations indicated that my brains needed to be spoon-fed somewhat more. I remember I typed down some interesting articles, a bit later I discovered I had no laptop under the bed cover, so I did hope the wireless worked and my writing was recorded somehow - but afterwards I did not find it in Google, so presumably the signal had been below the neural quantum noise.
I also remembered that as soon as I closed my eyes, I saw a computer screen with lots of parts of video films ready for editing.
I never tested this kind of walking table.
I started to react on the surrounding, the people. And as always in the hospital I started to get the feeling about myself that "it sure could be much worse". They had found me a bed in the ward for rheumatics and skin transplantations. Lunch had that special taste it gets when the table guests discuss how many skin patches had actually stuck in their latest transplantations and how many square decimeters of raw meat there still was to cover. The hands of some rheumatics looking like a gnarled pine close to an icy windy sea. If such a tree had looked like one of their hands, I had got scared if it grabbed after me.
The first days I was alone in the 2-bed room, soo peaceful compared to before, then an old man with an undefined illness came, he had lost a lot of his tissues, very slim, looked healthy enough compared to me - but a body normally needs more than skin and bones, so he was in for all kinds of check-ups.
The not too old lady (a bit older than me perhaps) in next room, sigh........ She did not look very sick, but more suitable in a mental ward, walking around with empty eyes, sometimes walking into my room, just looking around. She all the time wanted to borrow my phone to call her relatives - because it was a whole hour since they visited and she had forgotten. When I did not lend her the phone - nor even once - she once or twice asked my visiting wife....... Then tried to find a nurse - I tried to teach her to push the red alarm button instead of waddling around, but it took time.
I could not avoid listening when her son or husband visited, she all the time shouted and complained at them, wanted home TODAY so she could pester them nonstop, she wanted her husband to sleep there..... poor guy having the first peace for 17 years. That is not the way of a Swedish hospital, there is a very expensive hotel in the area for such events. She did not want to eat - one of her problems, she could not eat. Did not even try, preferred to lie out in the dining room: "I have just eaten", after not touching the food for 3 minutes instead of sitting there for a few hours in peace, as I do, thou there is nothing else to eat. If I had bveen the doc I had at least said "please, sit now here for as long as the other people, talking to them - after all they might have interesting sickness to tell you about!" And medicines "can I take them home???"...... Including the medicine that stopped her from shitting all over the floor of the toilet we shared. I had a certain personal interest in her taking that.
I browsed thru the little library in the dining room, picked one or two.
One interesting little book I found that I did not know before, I read it thru during the last breakfast there. "Address Unknown", from 1932-34. In essence, two friends in USA, a Jew and a German who had business together. The German travelled back home to Germany, around the time when Hitler rose to power. At first it was a friendly correspondence, but the German became more and more Nazified, telling the glory of the awakening German people, after the defeat of the first World War and his increasing hatred of Jews. He absorbed all the thoughts, that had been totally foreign to him before leaving USA. The book apparently has become a film now, Google on the title. Known enough to have been translated into Swedish.
In between I had a look in a Guillou book, it started allright but then it was soon into Swedish politics of his more absurd model. Before I have only read his Arndt books, which I once found secondhand in Bangkok, I liked them. I do not like him.
I also scanned some in a little totally lousy book there - about Landskrona. I could have enjoyed a little bit of history and cultural history. Started neatly with the authors reminding about the peaceful life a couple of decades back, cycling along the beach, all the almost free-of-charge big boats over to Denmark.
But then it came in on glorifying "multiculture" in a very absurd way. Everything about it was perfect, thou his logic was not that impeccable. I got a very absurd feeling that the authors wanted 100 million muslims to come to Sweden, wondered if he ever had the thought or knowledge that most of the half million who have come, do it because their families paid big sums to human smugglers to bring them to our border, teaching the poor immigrants the right way of holding a cap but no passport in their hand when they entered the passport control.
Everything perfect, the writers breathed the sensational fact that if the muslims came here and under the influence of the Swedish Master Race they would become almost as good as the Swedes. I can not see any other alternative to that thinking from his scribbling - why they glorified that a tiny percentage succeeded in coming here, and not giving a damn about all the hundred millions left back in the world they themselves had created.
Then came the meeting with the Master Race and someone described as a "beautiful veil" - no mentioning if there was an interesting intelligent women inside - meeting representatives of the Master Race - in the form of two Swedish alcoholics. We were carefully told who was the best - sounded almost like Reinfeldt. What the writer thought these Swedes would teach a lady in veil, was not specified. It seemed he had missed a bit of the logic.
I let my mind wander a bit, until the lady got a daughter, who grew up - and the probability quite a bit more than zero of that girl getting a Swedish boyfriend and her mother murdering her for that. It is after all Culture from her homeland and we Swedes adore multiculture - a month or two ago there has been articles about all the suspected cases in Sweden for honor murder (a few articles in Swedish, see link1 link2 link3 link4), the police refused to investigate.
Strange how the mind can wander when you are posititioned among a dozen people with a mixed assortment of illnesses. Sometimes one wonders who is the most sick in this world. Maybe not those in hospitals.
Most of the days I saw the blue sky outside the hospital, but when it came storm and rain, I realized it was time to take a taxi home. My legs feel rather weakened by the whole, so now I better start exercising a bit, 3 months until we plan to go to Thailand to continue the exercise.
Home, trying to be a good boy walking forth and back in the room and counting the steps, to get up my mobility again, before we go to Thailand in 3 months. Would not mind some spring sun outside.
Inga kommentarer:
Skicka en kommentar