The Recovering Patient
There is so much of the human psyche in today’s world that continuously contemplates emotion, addresses existentialism, and thrives on vanity. Young professionals or the youth themselves do not really realise that there are (some) things outside of their control that can instantly trigger that kind of physical desperation brought about by a physical breakdown. Because in that moment, nothing else matters more than getting rid of the pain, the sickness, the freaking organ that seems to pull every inch of your body to hell.
Once they’re gone, the process of recovery start to be more challenging than actual pain. Because as the recovering patient is finally in the confines of her own room—deplete of doctors, and on-the-clock check-ups from nurses, she is left with herself and her recovering body.
The recovering body wills to move forward but fails to take a step. The patient seeks to be productive but ends up feigning in comfort. They both drown in a sea of restlessness and end up entrapped with nothing but their thoughts.
Oh, those thoughts.
Thoughts that simulate strength and indulge fantasy become a place to seek solitude.
Just enough for the recovering patient to let go of the urge to move, and allow more time to listen.
To listen to Him, to her family, to the people she loves, and most importantly, to her body.
I was rushed to the ER twice last week. The first night due to acid reflux, and the second night to appendicitis. Hence, I had an appendectomy (my first surgery ever) and was confined to the hospital for 2 days. I haven’t made any decent amount of studying since.