It happens, even to the best of us.
We wake up one day, and all is well. One moment we’re zipping through life, going to work, waving at friends, smiling at barista’s over the counter. And the next? For reasons sometimes both mysterious and (explainable), we find ourselves horizontal, wearing a funny looking outfit, and being wheeled into the hospital.
During a long stay on the quaint and idyllic Thai island of Koh Phangan, I found myself in such a situation. I woke up feeling a bit feverish, and by the end of the next day found myself in the marginally delusional state that only a fever over 102 degrees can induce. And that wasn’t the worst of it as a few days later I was shaken awake with a sharp pain and swelling in my right wrist, almost as if I had sprained it overnight.
Recommended by a friend to go the local hospital, the swirling truly began. After a stern command and a, quite frankly, frightening look in the doctor’s eyes, I began to concede that perhaps it was more than just a simple wrist sprain and the next day I boarded a morning ferry to the neighboring island of Koh Samui. There, I received a full test at a bigger, better equipped, and arguably more Western-catered hospital.
After some blood and fluid tests, I reluctantly allowed myself to be admitted into the hospital with a diagnosis of septic arthritis caused by a suspected staph infection. Treatment? What began as a manageable 1-2 days of antibiotics, soon became 3-5 days during which they monitored the swelling of my wrist in the hopes that they wouldn’t need to operate and extract the infection out (yikes!). Finally, after the first few days and the swelling and infection in the wrist area seemingly under control, it was advised for me to continue the antibiotic treatment for a total of 28 days.
It is from the time I spent in my four-walled room on a gorgeous island in Thailand that I present to you five life lessons from hospital stays.
Ask For (And Receive) Help
Oh, that receiving part is the hard one for some of us, isn’t it?
I’m all but completely right handed. Anyone who is in the same boat can imagine what it would be like to lose the ability to use that hand. Lefty did a good job as much as he could but let’s be honest, we live very much in a two-handed world.
Simple tasks like unscrewing water bottles (drinking out of the tap is a big no-no in Thailand), dressing myself, or even wiping after using the toilet all were things I needed help with (okay I managed with the last one thanks to the standardized use of bidets here ― I’ll be writing about the joy and wonders of bidets soon).
It is during these times we find ourselves unable to perform the things we are used to doing on our own is when life gives us an opportunity to remember that we do not live in a vacuum. There are others, and often, they are all too happy to lend a hand.
I’ve always considered myself independent; perhaps it’s my masculine streak. So needing to ask a friend to take me the hospital, help me pack a backpack in case my stay was longer than a day trip, and especially accepting a generous offer from a dear neighbor to accompany me during the first few days of my stay made the first couple weeks a big lesson in humility and asking for, and accepting, what I needed.
It’s abnormal in our society to accept ourselves as powerless and to have needs we can’t fulfill for ourselves. Trust me when I say, while it’s an uncomfortable muscle for most of us to stretch, it’s not so bad to have people help and assist a healing process. Seeing my laptop and guitar show up with a smile was like Christmas and winning the lottery all at the same time!
In fact, it is in those moments that we are allowing another person to fulfill their innate desire to serve from a place of simplicity and their humility. And so the human cycle of give and take continues.
Stay Human
One aspect of hospital experiences is the seemingly constant barrage of hospital staff and nurses that come in and out of the room. There are those who check blood pressures every few hours, cleaners who come in a couple times a day to sweep the room or take out the trash, meal delivery, meal pickup, doctor visits, physical therapy appointments, and let’s not forget, the dear nurses whose task and role it is to act as the front line of service to the patient.
Phew! As the one laying on the bed, it can be quite a roller coaster at times.
I found myself with a choice, to be a passive patient and accept the role that comes with that, or stay human.
What does it mean to stay human? It’s all the things that we know make the world go round, even when in places like the hospital or office even. It’s the simple things: smiling, laughing, making jokes. It’s making eye contact, giving another your presence and attention. It’s saying “thank you” even if it’s the 10th, 20th, or 100th time someone’s done the same thing for us.
See, in the hospital, it’s very easy to fall into a role. The role of the patient, and thus, everyone is there to serve us. While this is true in many sense, I do not believe this ultimately supports us in our healing process as it creates a sense of detachment from our bodies and being.
Our bodies, our minds, our souls deeply desire to be human, and that doesn’t change even when our environments seemingly ask us to play out certain roles and ways of being. As a human race, we are called from our depths to be and share in the spirit of connection. It is from this place that I believe our bodies truly heal.
The acknowledgment of two beings coming together, each with a part to play, but also recognizing the comedy of our fragile humanness, is what I believe reminds our bodies and spirit that it’s ok to be here, and that it’s not such a bad place.
Be Proactive
Let’s not forget the role of insurance in our lives. Whoever came up with the idea of paying in advance to hedge the chance that if something were ever to happen all things would be taken care of, must have lived in a simpler time.
In today’s modern western age, insurance companies seem to have taken a role which unless you’ve rolled the dice well) tends to border adversarial in nature. They want to pay as little as possible, delay the payment as long as they can, and ultimately put both the insured and the hospital in uncomfortable predicaments.
While I’m cautious of saying this is the case in all situations, I would recommend that it pays (literally) to play the insurance game offensively. Fill out the forms, make the phone calls, have the conversations, don’t forget to be human(!), and of course, get it in writing.
My insurance dance began with the hospital department’s insurance coordinator making the all but defeating statement, “Most insurance companies don’t pay. You’ll likely end up having to pay the whole bill and getting reimbursed later.”
Sweat, heart rate increasing, pressure behind the eyes...
You can imagine had this been a couple of days stay, a week even, it would be stomachable and even financially feasible. But I was faced with a month long stay and was in no position to foot the bill.
So the phone calls began. Asking to be copied in all email correspondence between the company and hospital. Dealing with time zone differences made it all the more challenging as I was only able to speak with a live and knowledgeable person late into my evening hours.
But in the end, after what seemed to be a dozen phone calls, more than a few sleepless nights, and the befriending of the manager in the insurance company’s customer service department (I think my use of, and her laughing at, “awesome possum,” that clinched it for me. Remember the stay human part?), I was finally able to get, in writing, an email that the insurance department deemed acceptable per their standards allowing me to walk out of the hospital unscathed, save my deductible.
Which leads me to my next point.
Be Responsible for Your Healing
As much as there will undoubtedly be lots of support around you in the form of hospital staff, friends, and family; this is your journey. It’s your health. Know that unless your situation is such that you’re unable to be in sound and right mind, you’re in the driver’s seat.
I tend to have a bit of an avoidant personality; it’s much easier for me to look the other way than it is for me to face something head on. Perhaps I’m the only one, perhaps not.
Thankfully, early on in my stay, I was guided by my neighbor’s wisdom and gentle invitation to make the decision not be a victim and stay in the driver’s seat. This included everything from my asking the doctors and staff a million questions (granted English wasn’t their first language so maybe a thousand questions would have been par for the course, to begin with), asking that gloves to be worn during certain procedures such as cleaning my PICC Line (western medicine is quite amazing at times), making bold requests such as asking the insurance department’s representative who interrupted my dinner to kindly return the next day, to simpler more humanizing decisions such as refusing to wear the hospital gown unless I absolutely had to.
This includes seeking out second, third, or even fourth opinions. Whatever you need to feel at choice, and informed about your treatment and diagnosis. In my situation, being that I was in a foreign country with different standards, drugs, and assessments than what I may be used to being from the West, it was all the more important that I find peace with the treatment being offered and choosing what I felt was right.
Fortunately in my case, after some conversations with health care professionals outside the hospital, I felt comfortable with my diagnosis (for the tech and text savvy I would recommend the online service www.sherpaa.com as I had a fantastic experience connecting with a doctor all through the ease of my cell phone). I found the more confident I was my understanding of my diagnosis and treatment, the more I was able to focus my energies on healing and rest. I did also decide to skip out on some of the pills they gave me that were more for my comfort than they were necessities (not recommending this, so do consult with your doctor if you’re unsure).
Remember, this is your healing space. If we forget that fact and allow our environment to place us in the passenger seat aimlessly fiddling with the radio in hopes of finding something to distract ourselves from the situation at hand, we do ourselves more harm than good. Subconsciously we are telling our bodies that it is ok not to be as present, that it’s not important to be active participants in the process, and ultimately we’re telling ourselves that being alive just isn’t that important.
(Note: When I use the word “alive” I’m not meaning it in the biological sense. I mean it in the jumping off a cliff, barreling down a roller coaster, asking someone out on a first date kind of aliveness.)
Remember You
Lastly, remember. Remember who you are. The “you” that is independent of the situations you may find yourself in. Listen to your body, your heart, and spirit. Each has desires and need to be healed accordingly.
Maybe that means on a physical level accepting a treatment such as antibiotics or a surgical procedure. Perhaps on the level of the heart it means holding the hand of a friend, having a conversation over Skype, laughing at some funny cat videos, or even, in my bleeding heart case, crying and releasing in the presence of a nurse because my body was in so much shock and pain after being repeatedly needled during those first few days of tests and IV injections.
Our spirits have needs too. Perhaps it’s simply to take a walk, getting out of bed and stretching, or even shaking to a funky tune played out of your phone. And perhaps it’s something as simple as sitting up straight, taking some deep breaths into the present moment, and tapping into the energy and spirit that flows within our bodies.
For me, I’ve found to keep my sanity, good nature, and resiliency it is crucial I remember who I am and that the environment and situation I find myself is only temporary, and only tragic if I let it be.
In the end, we make our situations what they are. Instead of sinking into my hospital bed and losing myself in the process, I laughed with the nurses, reconnected with old friends, took long walks around the hospital grounds, read when it suited me, stretched, and yoga'd when my body asked for attention, and yes, even zoned out in front of a screen when I needed a distraction from myself and the empty hours.
Perhaps the most important aspect of my journey, and I’m sure in all our journeys, no matter what kind of funny looking outfits we may be wearing, we get by with a little help from our friends. For that, I'm eternally grateful.
And perhaps that is the greatest lesson of all.