I shared room with an old woman, a Christian artist, that bragged about her crafty sewing abilities and told me stories from her church life. This one was recovering from a shoulder operation. She blamed an old neighbour for her bad shoulder, as she had fell and damaged it, when she was shopping for them. Also she blamed a doctor, saying they had done one surgery on her, that she didn't need. She sang to me. She loved food enough to read me recipes from her memory. She told me about how people always said to her, that she was so good with colours and how much she loved colour mixing. I told her about my similar interests, but she listened mostly to herself. Often she told me her stories more than once, as she forgot what she had said and hadn't said. She had a brilliant sweet personality though, something I wouldn't say often about people I meet. Trough the selfishness and bragging, I saw an entertaining person.
She claimed that some old people, those closer to death than to birth, just sit inside and stop living, which is true. She wanted to be a part of something, to know people, not to be left out. I wondered if she ever felt lonely, in the big group of church people and sewing girlfriends. If she felt sad, when she rang her church's minister and found that he was often too busy to chat with her. She talked about the sister she often argued with, but she never mentioned having had a man, so I just assumed she maybe never got married (as Christians usually seem to favour marriage, than living with someone outside of it). She made me think of how youth runs from people, how many choices we really have and how little we dare to try something that we want, but few people do... I would have loved to travel in a minibus around the world... To see Egypt and Island... I would have loved to connect more to people and I have never in my heart, really wanted a typical life; be married, get two kids and see a deeper meaning, in being able to pay the bills... I always wanted something else, something more... I wish I could meet someone that wanted the same...
Anyway, me and my good friend Greeting, who came to visit me in the hospital, as she lives in Oslo, hardly had any time to talk. This old sewing artist, chatted our heads full of her silly little stories and her charismatic personality. Sometimes the nurses had to tell her, to calm down a little.
I had little time to think and it's always difficult to sleep in hospitals, the beds are hard and never comfy. The old artist lady complained to me, about the previous patient that lay next to her, saying she tossed her sheets around so much at night, giving her a brainpain. This she told me about, after I had startled her with a tiny sound in the dark. So I had to lay quiet, didn't want to get in trouble with her, as she was the one I had to spend time with, most of the day.
I hate hospitals terribly, as I spent a lot times in them as a kid. Some people are hurt by the memories, of being abused by their parents when growing up. For me my bad memory is the hospital, it's a pain and a fear, that I can't explain, a haunting feeling that tells me I need to get out, get air; I don't want to die in there. It's silly you might say, I was never dying and I was not abused, it's just not a good memory that's all, so it gives me this odd choking feeling. But I'm not immature, I know what is good and what's not good for me. If I need hospital, if they can make me better, I'm on it, if not, I'll stay as far as I can away from it.
I had a mad pain in my head in there, those three days I was in. I thought I was seriously sick for a moment, but strangely the pain vanished as soon as I left the hospital. When I have a pain in my head, it can be so bad, it makes me vomit. Luckily I don't have such headaches often.
Second day I was there, it was not just the old woman I shared room with, that chatted like a mad one. Another old woman came, a patient visitor friend. You know there are those that go visit people, in hospitals and old peoples homes, just because they think you need company. They don't know the patients, but they just go visit them for the hell of it. It's a nice job really, but I wasn't in the need of another chatter in my ear. She sat her ass down though and started asking questions, she wanted my whole life story, as if she was writing a book about patients, about me. So I gave her stories alright, told her about my childhood, my times at the doctors, all the crazy medications I had taken, up trough the years. And naturally she sneeze up a sentimental approach, telling me how she admires people like me and how much struggle it must be and that one must never get bitter. Heard it all before and always it makes you sadder, than it makes you happier. It's like, it's all for them, to make them feel better, healthy and fine in their own life. -But I don't want to be the one they pity, or admire, I just want to have some time and space, where I can find a calmness it it all.
She really bugged me, this visitor friend woman, but what could I do, I'm not going to be rude and tell people to fuck off. My mother told me, when I said to her I had a visitor friend to see me, that I should have told them, I wasn't feeling well enough for chitchats and then made sure the nurses, keep the random visitor friends away from me. You have to think about yourself first of all, that's my mother's moral. But I'm not my mother, I wouldn't want to hurt anyones feelings. It's a very bold and good thing, to go visit strangers in hospitals, just because you decide, that you might have something to learn from strangers. I admire people that do that. Thing is, I ended up almost vomiting on her. As she was about to leave, my head was in such a mad war with the pain, that I vomited right onto the table and then the floor and yes, almost on both of the two old women (the visitor friend and the room mate). That's a moment when you are suppose to feel very embarrassed, but I felt good getting it out and I decided it would have also been okay, if I had actually vomited right onto the visitor friend's lap. I felt it didn't matter, there's so much one can take. If I vomit on someone, they probably deserved it, because never have my rudeness come out easily, I'm way too nice with people in general.
I bet the old visitor friend woman, had an interesting story to tell her friends and family, after that hospital day. I bet some of them always make it sound sad and tragic. For me with people like this, I make them sound irritating and a little disconnected...
The last night I lay there was also my room mate's last night, she was leaving as I was, to go for two weeks to a training senter. This last night with her, I lay awake in the hot room, looking up at the roof, now and then checking my watch. The fire alarm went off suddenly. Personally I'm rarely affected by such events, I would only get scared if I saw death in front of me, or felt it in me. Who cares if there's fire alarms, war alarms or alien alert alarms? -At least something is happening, it's not like I wasn't totally bored, in that kitchen bench alike hospital bed. So, she wakes up and she's terribly scared, I tell her it's most likely nothing serious at all. She wont let it go and we end up ringing the nurses, but of course they are too busy with this alarm, so it takes ages for them to come. During this period of time, she starts to pray and naturally everything goes well then. God was on her side, so she claimed. It turns out to have been one of the patients smoking in bed and causing a small fire. I personally found it funny to see the old Christian woman that bragged of herself, being so unafraid of everything, crying and praying over the ringing of a hospital fire alarm. Often those that seem and act confident, are in crisis those that show themselves, to be the lost ones. And if you feel less than others, you might find a great courage, a will in you, when you least expect it, I have noticed that.
The old room mate woman gave me her address and phone number, to share with people, in case I came over someone that wanted to buy her craftsware. I wish I had my own little shop, if so I would sell her Mona Lisa sewed embroiderings and all the needlework crafts she made, until the end...
Talking about colourful people, what do you think of these decorated trucks? It's to me probably one of the coolest, most lovable things I've ever seen. If I had one of those I would travel all around the world, no doubt my dream would have been reality then.
Nobody can say I'm not a colour lover, I bought these candle glasses and the yellow and red lava lamp for myself, not too long ago. It's something wonderful about light and colours mixing together, it makes me happy like nothing else can. What lamp would you have picked?