Every now and again I scroll through my photos kept in Lightroom, to see if there is anything interesting to sue in there for an article. I often use a lot of the same images over the space of months, depending on what I am writing about, but I do like to diversify and, I do like to add fresh new pictures, when possible. But sometimes, I am just looking through for sentimental reasons, some memories, as a lot of pictures from highlight moments are in there with family, or something that stood out as an event.
Today, I came across this set of black and whites.
They are not compositionally impressive, nor are they overly interesting by themselves, but they did bring back memories. These are the photos I took while waiting in a hospital bed for a scan of my head, before they knew that I had had a stroke. I was almost turned away as "non-critical" because of Covid times and then waited in the waiting room for about four hours, before finally seeing a doctor, who didn't want to scan me at all.
So, while I was waiting there, with nothing to do other than lay with a throbbing head, I took some photos and edited the. At that point, I didn't know how serious it was, but I knew that something was pretty wrong with me, as I have had all kinds of pains, and this was different to all of them.
While my wife drove me into the hospital and got me through into the waiting area earlier in the afternoon, she wasn't allowed to join me, because of Covid restrictions. I didn't want to be there alone, because I felt that I wasn't going to get home again. We had dropped my daughter to her grandparents and when I said goodbye to her, I said goodbye to her. Of course, I didn't want to worry her, so it was just a normal goodbye for her with a hug and kiss, and an "I love you", but for me, it was a possible last time.
After about nine hours of sitting in the waiting area and then waiting in the emergency ward, it was around eleven at night before I was taken to another waiting area with another bed to wait for the results. The only reason I was kept overnight was because my wife's brother in law (specialist radiologist at the same hospital) saw the scans (I had to give him permission) and saw a shadow, pointing to a broken carotid artery in my neck. There is a picture of him looking at my scans on his couch at home, while watching Finland play football.
But, the scan was on my neck, not my brain.
At about one in the morning, I was taken to a room to spend the night, under the assumption that they will monitor and get me treatment for the artery the next day. It wasn't actually until two days later when my wife noticed the corner of my mouth was dropping slightly, that they did an MRI and discovered that I had indeed had a stroke, and the treatment they were giving for the artery, instead of helping, might kill me.
It is strange to think back to that day and night and all that had happened in the couple days lead up into it. And, it is strange to think about the consequences of it since, with my entire life shifted on its axis, orbiting an unfamiliar body and mind that no longer recognised itself in the mirror. And, it is also strange to think that despite this monumental shift in my personal universe, life just goes on, much as it did before for everyone else.
But it didn't just go on for me.
I mean yes, life has continued, but not as before. For me, everything changed in an instant, and who I was the day before, was completely different to who I was the day after. It is like one of those body-swap comedies, but with only one body available, one of the personas had to die.
A morbid game of musical chairs.
I remember pieces of this day, like the doctor's face, and the dry, rye-bread sandwich and a juice box they gave me for dinner. I remember waiting in the waiting room and looking at the people there getting frustrated, as while they waited, alcoholics who had fallen down drunk and hit their head got taken straight in past the line. And, I remember these curtains made of paper in the picture and thinking that I hadn't seen them before.
I remember thinking that I might never see my family again.
A family with names I was struggling to remember.
They are just photos.
Taraz
[ Gen1: Hive ]
