By: Chelsea Hagan, PRC-Saltillo Blogger
Hello everyone, it’s me Chelsea Hagen.
While I was sitting here isolating in my cozy house, I started thinking about how this is not my first fishing trip(rodeo), no siree bobber, and if you’re a parent of a child that has a health condition or disability, we’re in the same boat (you will read why the fish reference later). I have had four experiences with isolation. My first time was when I was born. I had to spend three weeks in the children’s hospital. My Mom, “The Production Accountant,” did all her work from a building that was the nurse’s old lodge.
The second time was when I had seizures and the concerned doctors thought that I might have Meningitis (I didn’t). They had to do a nasty spinal tap test on me, and it took three of their big buffed nurses to pin me down because I was like a fish squirming on the end of a line. I fought but I didn't win, the hospital won instead. Those super strong nurses stabbed that uncomfortable needle into my perfect young spine, hook, line and sinker. While we waited to find out what was wrong, I spent three weeks isolated in the gloomy hospital, where the rooms were whitewashed walls, no TV, and smelled of disinfectant stale air. My dear mother had to work from my room and sleep on a skinny mattress built into the windowsill. Turned out the seizures are just part of who I am, so no biggy.
The third time was back surgery. I had to stay in the hospital for twenty-one days. They had inserted rods in my back which made me instantly two inches taller than my momweird. I must confess during those first few days it was pretty good. I was on that sweet, sweet, morphine. I felt like I was in paradise. I could control how much or how little morphine I wanted; I was hooked. Then, my doctor came to see me, and he said, "Okay no more morphine for you kiddo.” In my mind, I was quoting The Lord of the Rings, "Not my precious? Don't take it away from me!” But it was time to say, “Farewell WHITE SUGAR.” Well, as they gave me the last trickle of my best friend at that time, I guess?? I realised that if I stayed and took the bait I would turn into a full-fledged addict and possibly need a drip for life. I also knew that my goody-goody mother would never let me pay a drug dealer. Always stop ahead before you go too far.
After surgery I was moved to a recovery hospital. Your room has no TV and you must do schoolwork while you are healing. I was in a lot of pain and my back was extremely itchy like a case of chicken pox that had doubled in size. I had one of those long ice packs and every three hours my mother had to switch the melted pack to a freezing one.
Now for the fish story. When I was able to eat the nurse asked me what food I liked. I told her fish. Well, I got a piece of boiled white fish for lunch and supper for eleven days straight. We complained to the nurses so then the nurse brought me a normal meal with a piece of that nasty saltless fish on top, next they gave me only a piece of boiled fish. Yes, fish for lunch and dinner, eleven days. It was a Thursday when a lady from the feeding clinic came to watch me eat. Can you guess what they gave me? That is right, a piece of fish. I couldn't stand the smell. So, I looked to my worried exhausted mother and she whispered to me, "Just take a bite so we can go home.” Well… I took a bite and immediately vomited. I became a human volcano spewing magma. The lady just stared at me. I was terrified like a fish out of water, breathing my last breath of life. The woman snapped her little book shut and said, "See you Monday.” I was the queen on the guillotine. Luckily, my mother had a cell phone camera and a box of those macaroni and cheese cups and over the weekend she recorded me eating. She showed the woman and we got the clear to finally go home. It took a century before I could eat fish again, okay it was actually a year, but even now if it is boiled or it has a fishy smell, there is no way I am eating it, not even if you paid me a million dollars. Again, my mother had to set up her office and for twenty-one days she did her reports in my bathroom.
My last story happened a couple of years ago. I had a case of food poisoning and I stayed in the hospital for seventeen days. Oh, let me go back and tell you why I got sick. I am an adventurous eater; I will try anything. Anyhow, my mother and I were eating at a fancy restaurant and I ordered some mushroom and blue cheese ravioli. Now, usually my mom is, “The Royal Food Taster,” but she hates blue cheese. I said that the ravioli tasted funky. My mother replied, "That is the blue cheese,” and refused to try it. Well… The next day I started to barf something awful. My mother rushed me to our local hospital, they stuck us in a tiny, plain cream-colored room. For three days, we were in lockdown, they sent me home when I was still sick. We then went to a different hospital and they treated us like royalty. I was there fourteen days before I could come home and you guess it, once again my mom worked from my hospital room.
My hospital visits have been mild, but not everyone is that lucky. We have met children and parents that have lived in the hospital and don’t see their families for months because they’re in isolation. These families have no government rushing to give them money. So, for me, this staying at home with good food, entertainment, and being healthy, is piece of cake or should I say a piece of delicious mango, pineapple crusted halibut.
Hope everyone stays safe and healthy.
Keepin it reel
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Chelsea Hagen
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Communicators In Action - isolation, quarantine, surgery, covid, coronavirus