At last, not such a bad night. Asleep at nine and excluding a few interruptions, I was unconscious until five. The previous evening I had asked for more sleeping aids but was told they had run out. Perhaps I had already consumed the hospital’s supply. But last night was better.
Having not left this room for seven days I seem to be adjusting to my condition, unfortunately.
At six-thirty in the morning, to the sound of crashing buckets and loud voices, the nurses came to wash and change me. They lift you up in a blanket, roll you around and scrub you. They wash your genitals and your arse, often whilst singing jolly Italian songs.
One of the male nurses is particularly fond of Bruce Springsteen, and during the procedure he likes to sing along to dancing in the dark. I don’t mind so much, I enjoy the company.
Next up is breakfast, a bowl of dirty cold tea in which a sugary biscuit is dumped. They spoon it into my mouth.
It’s then my physios come. There are four of them. They are determined to get me upright. This involves strapping me into a blue machine with my feet on the floor and standing me up vertical. I have to say this is a horrible experience.
I have not been vertical for some time. The world seems completely at the wrong angle, everything is in the wrong place and the colours seem to fly around everywhere, unattached to any specific objects, like hallucinations.
I thought I might vomit and I couldn’t breathe. They lay me down again and told me that it would take some time for me to get used to standing up again. I now see why I spent so much of my previous life lying on the sofa.
The next adventure involves me being placed in a trolly and being dragged on my back for miles around the hospital for various tests. I’m beginning to figure out where I am from the position of the ceiling tiles.
Last night things got tense in this little room; Isabella was tired if not exhausted, and there were some unpleasant conflicts between us. the issue of the cleaning of my teeth brought things to a head.
Isabella, as you might imagine, is not a dentist. Using a toothbrush, some floss and a cocktail stick, she tried to clean my mouth as I was trying to dictate my latest blog. I began to feel that I was both a helpless baby and a terrible tyrant, to be in a position like this is to have to endure both vulnerability and frustration.
A few days ago a bomb went off in my life, but this bomb has also shattered the lives of those around me. My wife, my children, my friends. There is no family untouched by catastrophe
What seems to be happening is that all my relationships are being renegotiated. It makes everybody mad, it changes everything. There is guilt, rage and resentment.
People love to be kind. People love to help one another. They also resent their dependence on one another and the fact they can’t do everything for themselves. My accident was a physical tragedy, but the emotional outcomes for all of us are going to be significant, but also very interesting.
I’m proud to be dependent on others who love me. And so far they appear to want to come to my help. I’ve had thousands of kind offers from friends and complete strangers offering me very expensive and useful things to help me continue with my writing. It should go without saying that I am profoundly moved and grateful.
I’d like to add that I really enjoy writing this diary. At least I haven’t lost the one thing that was most valuable to me, that is my ability to express myself. I hope soon to be writing some stories and little essays on other topics which I hope might interest you. Unfortunately, at the moment, because I can’t use my hands I can’t do any research. But we are not done here.
That’s all for tonight folks. In this shitty world, your loving writer, Hanif x
Me too spellbound, and i look forward every evening to read your thoughts. You are renegotiating your relationships and the angle you see everything from - and you are offering us an invitation to think similarly, which is a gift. Thanks for sharing.
Good evening, Hanif. Tough day again for you. I remember a similar time in my own life. There are crazy challenges every day and you will handle each one in turn in your own time. Life becomes about food, physio, medication and visitors for a while - you are still you and expressing this raw new phase of things is intrinsic to your recovery. At each stage you’ll think ‘This is me now’ but then there may be the tiniest improvement that you will adapt to and there’ll be ‘a new me’ to get used to. Today I’ve been listening to Dubliners (read by Andrew Scott on Audible) which is well worth a listen. He’s a brilliant storyteller. As I’m sure you know. I’m writing short stories at the moment and really love reading them. Margaret Atwood’s Stone Mattress is another great collection. You might enjoy learning Italian on the Duolingo app - it’s more like games really - if nothing else it’ll give you and your family a laugh. I’m learning French but I dip in and out of Italian as I find it trickier. But I think you might like it. I’m becoming quite competitive with it if truth be told. I do hope you have a better night again - sending lots of love to you and yours.
Kate x