Hello friends!
After almost five months of hospitals and rehabilitation center, I’m back home today.
My life was saved (it not always obvious, my son got a phone call from the doctor telling hiim to “be prepared” not only once but four times, as covid brought not only low oxygen but also kidney failure and thrombosis, as well as a staphylococcus aureus infection). The doctors did a good job, and so did my pranic healer friends with their incessant therapies. Unfortunately my mum, who got sick at the same time as me, didn’t make it.
I got a second chance, for which I’m grateful and happy. Now I can more or less walk again (that’s why I spent a month at the rehab center), and take care of myself. My fingers have also gotten used to writing and typing again, and I can eat normally. Of course long covid has “gifted me” with some heart, lung, hair and vocal chord problems, which I hope will get better, but it’s not 100% certain.
Looking forward to starting work on viki again, but also many other things available to me, which I had taken for granted but are not. Looking at death in the face is an eye-opener in many ways. I got back home and I teared up, felt like getting down and kissing the floor, the walls. The cat looked at me in a strange way, and I saw that my son had gotten rid of all my stuff in the bathroom, filling the shelves with his own shaving and beard care stuff (grrr!)
He’s happy I’m still around but in reality, life could have gotten on without me. Where I used to work, three people have been pitching in to cover my tasks, and they seem to be doing great. Nobody is irreplaceable. Thankfully. Because if it wasn’t this time, some other time I’ll have to follow that grey lady.
She appeared to me like a thin spinster, a bit like the quiet, religious seamstress who used to come home when I was a teenager. Not scary or anything, but sort of vague, indistinct, like a charcoal drawing that someone has slightly smudged with an eraser. She didn’t even look at me, but it was understood that I was supposed to follow her. I then put both arms crossed in front of my chest just as they do in Korean dramas, and shouted: “No, not yet. I have two children. Next time”. So she turned and left without a word.
I don’t know when this happened, I was heavily sedated for almost two months, in the ICU, having all sorts of visions. Then after waking up, I spent another month looking at the ceiling 24/7, hands and feet tied to the bed, my mind still full of the things I’d seen, without knowing which were true and which were hallucinations, my body full of little tubes and patches, completely unable to move and of course unable to speak, because of the hole in my trachea.
Okay, on to more pleasant stuff now. I feel very enthusiastic about life, I want to enjoy the years left to me to the fullest. I still have to spread my mothers ashes into the Aegean sea, host a party for all of her friends and then move house. (ugh!) Then travel to Italy to meet my father, who’s old and frail and I don’t know for how long he’ll be there. And of course I’ll have to get dancing again. It will be busy, but I’m looking forward to it.
Well met, my dears!
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I’m very happy that you survived and are with us again.
