This week, I returned to uni after the ridiculously long semester break. It was great to see everyone again and I was keen to get stuck into some writing exercises. And then I got THE call…
Earlier that day, I’d dropped my hubby off at hospital as a day patient for a “routine” procedure to tackle a minor heart problem. Unfortunately, he experienced serious complications and very quickly lapsed into a critical condition. It was horrendous to watch the man you love dearly suffer extreme pain and trauma. He needed a lifesaving operation and ended the day in intensive care rather than being home in time for Masterchef.
|Edinburgh Royal Infirmary- the scene of my family crisis|
Later that night, when the Holby city style drama had subsided, I realised that the overnight bag I’d requested my son to pack in a hurry was lacking a few basic essentials. I’d forgotten to ask for my pjs, a change of clothes and my make-up bag (after a sleepless night, I was a scary sight). But what I had remembered to ask for was a book, paper and a pen. Were these essentials? Yes!
When everything around me was out of control, the one thing that I did have control over was words. I read for escapism and I write for escapism too. When my soulmate’s life was at risk, I needed my book and my scribbles. I didn’t need the pjs or clothes but anyone seeing me the next day would argue that I did need my make-up bag!
Once my hubby was stable, he was able to joke with me that the whole experience would make a great short story. I don’t know about that, and I would rather not have writing material based on his distressing ordeal. But what I do know is that words helped get me through some of the worst days of my life. And I’ve written a morbid poem to prove it!
|My precious hubby in healthier times|