About me

I have been writing poetry and stories since I was a child, and a love of reading was instilled in me from an early age. I am passionate about writing, and hope you enjoy the books I have written. Whilst most of you sleep soundly in your beds, like many Parkinson’s patients, insomnia dictates, so during those hours that sleep eludes me, the house is tranquil and quiet, an atmosphere perfect to immerse myself in writing. My life has been a series of strange events, which have without doubt contributed to my creativity. To publish anything is to bear one’s soul to the world. It is to stand naked and let everyone see who you really are. I have poured my heart and soul out on paper and I hope to share this journey, immersing you in a story, capturing your attention and firing the imagination. Through my writing and public speaking I hope to bring greater awareness to the general public about living with chronic disease.

Sunday, December 16, 2012

Disappearing food

Many years ago, I was hospitalized for a bone crises (Gaucher chronic bone pain usually lasting several days). The hospital was full to capacity, so placed in the internal ward, my bed was parked in the busy corridor. The trolley serving breakfast nosily clattered as it was pushed from room to room, and finally it  arrived at me, stuck in the corridor. My breakfast tray was placed on the stand, and the lady hurried off to complete her duties. I re-arranged my pillow and making myself comfortable turned back to my breakfast try. The stand stood bare - no breakfast in sight - it had vanished into thin air. I hastily looked around me but no sign of it. After some time I managed to get the attention of a passing nurse, and told her I had not had breakfast. She immediately went off in search of the lady with the trolley, and the two of them returned to my bedside. The catering lady looking at me suspiciously, was insistent that she had served me breakfast and showed the nurse a list with everyone's name on it who were to receive food. The nurse eyeing me closely implied politely that maybe I had forgotten eating my breakfast and that another member of staff had removed the empty tray. I had no defence and not wanting to make a fuss, I let it go. My husband arrived, and I told him the story of my mysterious disappearing breakfast, so he bought me a sandwich and coffee from the cafeteria. Some hours later, still in the corridor, wishing very much to be sent home; lunch time arrived. The catering lady warily approached me with hesitation, saying in a loud voice as if to stress the point, "here is your lunch". She placed the tray on the stand, and once again I sat up and got myself comfortable to eat lunch. A minute had barely passed before I turned around and found the tray had vanished once again! I couldn't believe my eyes, and scanning quickly all the people around me, alas no lunch in sight. The catering lady passed by my bed, and I stared at her but did not utter a word, for fear of ending up in the psychiatric ward. I went without lunch, but thankfully late afternoon, they had found space in one of the rooms, so finally I left the chaos and noise of the corridor. Supper time arrived, and a different lady now on duty cheerfully placed my food on the stand. However this time I was ready, and sitting up, pillow positioned, I clung to the tray with both hands. As I let go to pick up my knife and fork, a pair of arms deftly moved in from my side and grasped the tray. I quickly dropped my cutlery and grabbed hold of the tray and looked up into the face of the culprit who had been taking my food all day. Seeing he had been caught red handed this time, and that it was fruitless to stay a moment longer in my room, he quickly left. So mystery solved; I finished my supper, and later found out that this old man was in fact not a patient, but camping out at his wife's bedside in the next room. He had no money for food, so was using great initiative, taking my food in the hope I would be given a second meal. I didn't tell any of the staff, for obviously this man had found himself in difficult and unfortunate circumstances, and I wasn't about to make things even worse for him. After a day or two, I was released from hospital, and upon leaving, just as lunch was being served, knowing I would be able to eat something at home; I took my tray into the next room and placed it on the man's lap. I didn't look at him, but could feel his eyes upon me. Without a word, I simply turned about and left.

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