Time to Go Home

It was Friday and what I was hoping would be my last day in the hospital. My roommate had also been told that she may be able to go home on this day, and when we awoke that morning we greeted each other with optimistic smiles and crossed our fingers.

During my week in the new room, friends came and visited me nearly every day; visitors who all came with stories and who were all bearing gifts. One day, my friend who was heavily pregnant at the time, came to visit. She shuffled radiantly into my room, carrying an enormous and beautiful tropical-looking plant. She is only a small lady, and I could barely see her behind the long green leaves, and the red cellophane wrap which surrounded the plant. She made me giggle with stories about her pregnancy. She was only a couple of weeks away from her due date, and she told me how she felt like her hands and feet were so swollen that they resembled pig’s trotters! She also spoke about the various methods she had been trying in order to go into labour, and how she was going to start drinking some special herbal tea that she hoped would lead to a successful result.  After chatting for a long time, we said goodbye; both wishing the other well with the new challenges life was going to bring. Another friend, who I have worked closely with for around 2 years, came to see me with her husband. This friend is much taller than me, and she gives the best hugs. When she entered the room, she enveloped me in her comforting embrace. She lives outside of the city, and she brought me figs from her garden and told me all about what had been going on at the school I work at. On Thursday evening, two other colleagues came to visit; one Italian and the other Spanish. They brought me a big card with drawings from all the children in my class, and it made me feel sad to not be able to be there with them. Again these friends told me about more news from my school, and updated me on how the children in my class were doing.

Whilst in hospital I had been desperately looking forward to normal everyday life. My boyfriend and I had talked about what I would do when I got home: take a long shower, put on clean pyjamas, eat spaghetti, go for a walk in the sunshine, watch a film together, have a cup of tea, eat Marmite on toast, sleep in my own bed… The normal seemed so exotic to me now!

My roommate showered promptly that morning. Her doctor visited the room early and I could hear him making preparations for her departure. I felt so happy for her. After the doctor had gone, she went to our cupboard and took out some clothes. Shortly she emerged from our bathroom, in a fitted flowery dress, and looking revitalized. I had to wait to be disconnected from the IV machine, and then I went to have a consultation with a specialist. It was the same specialist I had seen on Monday. There had been no improvement in my situation. I still couldn’t hear in my left ear, and I was also finding loud noises uncomfortable, and was experiencing tinnitus and fullness of pressure in my ear. I was told that I would need to take Prednisone (a type of corticosteroid) for four weeks, in decreasing doses each week. I would also continue with the intratympanic steroid treatment of having injections in my ear, every Tuesday for three more weeks, and I would need to make an appointment for an MRI scan. I was still hopeful that the medicine would start to work in tablet form, and the thought of being able to properly relax and rest in my own home also made me optimistic for a recovery. When I got back to the room, I quickly showered and put on the grey dress that I had worn a week ago when I was admitted. It felt great to be wearing normal clothes. Soon after, I was again attached to the IV medication and I waited, sitting on my bed, for my paperwork to arrive and to indicate my time to go home. I waited for a few hours. I said goodbye to my roommate and we gave each other a hug and wished each other a quick recovery.  It wasn’t too long before I was walking to a taxi, holding on to my boyfriend with relief. It seemed so bright outside. Very soon I was home.

Two weeks later it was the day of my MRI appointment and I received a message from my friend. She wrote that today we would both be in hospital. Beneath her message was a photo of my friend with a joyful smile, in a hospital gown, waiting for her baby to arrive.