January 8, 2021 marks four years since I was first admitted to the hospital in Uruguay. Every year I recount the events that caused me to change course in this crazy life and every year I’m dumfounded by how truly surreal it all seems.
I remember the satisfaction swirled with relief that washed over me as my work-place partner-in-crime (CD) and I had successfully pulled off the NYE events aboard the good ol’ Zaandam. My first holiday cruise as EM paired with my first Antarctica run made for a hectic and awfully stressful couple of weeks, but with no shame for enacting one of the seven deadly sins, I felt prideful that I’d made it to the light at the end of the tunnel, and hoped for smooth sailing going forward.
In an effort to reward crew members for ongoing efforts, the ship offered us the opportunity to visit a penguin colony for a couple of hours, while docked in the Falkland Islands. Having earned a bit of time away from the ship, I participated in one of the most coveted activities for mariners who travel south of the border and watched penguins poop in the wild. An exciting adventure, I returned to the ship refreshed and ready to get back at it…and did…until only a couple of days later when I called the infirmary because I couldn’t catch my breath. I mean, really couldn’t catch my breath. I was hanging over the side of my bed wheezing, which was scary enough, but nothing compared to the moments that followed, when I suffered a near complete loss of fine and gross motor skills. I had attempted to visit the restroom in my cabin and quickly discovered that I could not walk in a straight line. I needed wheelchair assistance to visit the crew doctor. Longer story, just long, I was found roughly four days later in my cabin in a comatose state. My body had ballooned from the oedema and I was a somewhat unrecognizable version of myself with 50lbs of fluid gained overnight. Full speed ahead to the next scheduled port of call, I was “offloaded” to a hospital in Uruguay. Obviously this part of the story was relayed to me rather than recalled.
The anniversary I’m celebrating, yes, celebrating, is having bee placed in the care of the incredible team in Uruguay. These doctors, nurses, technicians, occupational and physiotherapists, custodial staff, food-service workers, security guards, and all-around good people not only brought me back to life, they gave me hope for a reasonably normal one going forward. From figuring out what was wrong with me (pneumonia, a fungal infection in my lungs, septicaemia, diabetic ketoacidosis, and kidney failure) to fighting for my body to regain the privilege of fighting for itself. From [ultimately] minor surgeries (dialysis catheter insertion and site change etc.) to nebulizing treatments, the dialysis itself, physiotherapy, among other less cute activities, these angels were by my side every step of the way. I love them and am, forever, so willingly in their debt. Being in the hospital for months isn’t fun – anyone could tell you that, but being in the hospital, intubated on a respirator, when a language barrier is honestly the least of your worries, is downright terrifying. The passion and compassion that surrounded me, paired with the love and support I received from around the globe, was the reason for my recovery, and I mean that – wholeheartedly.
Many say I should celebrate the day I left Uruguay to be transferred to a GTA hospital, or the day I left in-patient care altogether, but that was the beginning of an entirely different struggle. You see, I’m credited with winning the fight for my life, but the truth of the matter is that all of these individuals fought for this young(ish) stranger (with my beloved immediate family and former partner though still cherished friend by my side in SA) when I couldn’t fight for myself. So today, as I celebrate their triumph (if I do say so, myself lol), I express my undying gratitude for my renewed sense of wonder in this world.
I look back on four years of, yes, struggle, but four years of love, light, and the weighted darkness from which I’ve experienced growth. I look to the cherished friendships that have evolved, and I look towards my inexhaustible pursuit of knowledge. I look to the gratitude I’ve developed for my mind and body and how natural self-confidence hang-ups no longer outweigh my appreciation for the shell that has allowed me to gradually reintroduce the many forms of movement that are one of my primary reasons for living. I look to family who are still by my side as I navigate the wonderful worlds of latent onset T1D and Stage 3 CKD, the family that puts up with my sometimes-colourful moods and ongoing endeavour to become a better me, which is probably the source of my inability to sit still for even a moment.
So I sit here quietly celebrating, by living my definition of a full and rewarding existence. Coffee to my right, a treasured novel to my left. Home studio and equipment ready for my workout, as well as zoom classes with the dance students I so genuinely love. I’m also sure I’ll find my way outdoors to enjoy the sunshine and maybe even find something pretty to employ as the subject of my next photograph.
K
Post Script:
I often notice how wildly criticized those are that constantly put on a brave face for social media and, as I focus my writing and (barf) amateur photography on the things for which I am grateful, it doesn’t mean that I can’t acknowledge the more challenging days. I use SM as a platform to guide my own focus to things that make me happy and encourage me to be thankful. These little reminders do not negate the fact that I “enjoy” the full spectrum of the human experience, but are perhaps a coping mechanism for the odd time I do feel frustration, guilt, grief, or anger (in my case, often misplaced road rage lol). This is a read or don’t read kind of thing, as much for me as it is for friends and family. Know that if I know you, I love your humanity and I’m eternally grateful that our paths crossed.
And now you know one of the many reasons I am so adamant that masks as a safety measure trump petulance and discomfort, aside from simply caring about my family, friends, and fellow man…Just had to throw that one out there.
On to the next adventure.
Homebody Movement Lab 