It is funny how three weeks in a hospital can change one’s normal cycles and rhythms. Here it is, 1 AM and I woke up and can’t seem to go back to sleep. This is a normal time for me to be searching or writing, but it feels strange.

It just seemed to take so long to heal. Two weeks in an ICU will make one go stir crazy, then another week after that. I kept insisting that I needed to be at home, where the real healing could take place. Don’t get me wrong, they saved my life, and I am grateful. Met some wonderful, caring people.

The whole situation was so very strange because, for most of my adult life, I have been a pretty self-sufficient kind of guy. All of a sudden, I am in a situation I have almost no control over, since I am usually just trying to sleep and heal It just took too much time, and I primarily focused on healing and balance. And people in and out of the room, drawing blood, checking vitals, asking questions. At times, I felt vulnerable, and for me, that is a new experience, having to rely on others to take care of me.

Here’s a fun one… why is it that someone will walk in and wake you out of a dead sleep you have fought for, and the first question out of their mouth is “So, how are you feeling?” I’m sorry, I was sleeping. Am I supposed to be monitoring my own condition all night? It’s hard enough just to find a comfortable position in a bed that is too small, even with the extender.

It is hard to find healing and balance in a hospital, especially a large one. Even in the most cheery places in it, it was a very oppressive environment. People seemed worried to death that I spent those 2 weeks in ICU. A lot of people who go in there don’t come out. Guess I’m just too damned stubborn for them.

I am not sure which one it is yet, but one of the meds they gave me seems to cloud my mind, makes it hard to focus. Until I get that straightened out,  I don’t expect to be writing much about important matters (unless they really piss me off.

So, of course the healing process is slow, and having to jump back into the medical system is not one of my favorites either. But I was right… coming home and being in my own space, eating real food,taking natural medicinal herbs and spices, all those things the alopathic medical community hates, because they can’t sell them as drugs for exorbitant prices.

Home is where one heals.

Namaste

The Blue Wizard

 

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