During the day there were regular visits from the doctors to check my
responses. I felt like some sort of insect or object of science, as they asked
me to raise my arms, especially the left, and tapped my legs. I was pleased to see that I could read the
names of the doctors on the sheet above my bed.
Eventually after a lot of practice, I was able with help to sit up in
bed and to be moved with the support of at least two nurses, to sit in a big
green armchair in the ward. It was lovely to be out of bed, and sitting up.
In the evenings, my sister, Louise, came to visit with Mark.
One day, when my balance,
coordination and capacity to stand had improved sufficiently, Mark was permitted
to take me out into one of the courtyard gardens in a wheel chair.
What an adventure to be outside and to feel the warm sun on my skin at last!
There were trees and some lovely diosma plants in flower at the time in the
garden. It was such a delight to hear the “chortle, chortle” of magpies and to
see the pretty flowering plants and the bees moving among them. It was such a delight
to breathe the fresh, healing, Canberra
air - so delicious!
After some time the tracheostomy was removed. This was a somewhat
painful procedure, but what a relief not to have that rattle, every time I breathed.
This was a major milestone as now I was able to speak at last! My voice seemed strange to me at first,
subterranean, like a whale’s song. Now I
was able to start drinking fluids through a straw.
The number of therapists
increased. There were speech therapists and occupational therapists and
physiotherapists, who carried out a range of assessments. As my left side was
most affected by the stroke I had to have my left arm supported in a sling, while
I was sitting up. I looked across the ward to the big windows where there was a
lovely lush view of trees and houses. I tried to make sense of what I was
looking at because it seemed familiar.
Probably, because of the number of
nurses from Indian backgrounds on the ward at various times, I had a sudden memory
of the Brindaban Gardens
near Mysore, in
Karnataka. I told Mark, when he came to visit in the evening and he chortled
and said, “No love you are confused”, and he gently explained where I was. I
thought I had been so clever dredging up a memory from long ago, when we had
visited, South India during our time as research scholars in Bombay, now Mumbai. I tried to remember some
of the basic Hindi I had learned and decided to practice it with the nurses.
Fortunately, they were very tolerant and helped me with my attempts. I told
Mark and celebrated that my brain was working. He thought that the sight of
the Indian nurses had reminded me the last time I was in a hospital was in India when we were on a posting in New Delhi. I had been
pregnant and had to go to hospital. The foetus was removed as it had died. This
was a very sad time for us. I will not forget the look of profound sorrow on
the little face of our son who was then 6 years of age when we explained what
had happened to his mother.
To be continued....
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