So, I'm talking about doing a
mindfulness course and reading a lot about it. My other half says,
“Sher you don't have to do a course on that, it's all common
sense!”. Washing the dishes, I try to give the advise I've read a
go, paying attention to the water flowing and my feet on the ground
and the bubbles of the soap. My mind is wandering, following its
usual path, and try as I might, I'm back to square one, thinking
about my next job and running through the whole day of drop offs and
pick ups.
Next day, it's all out the window as we
drive the long road to the nearest hospital.
Sitting in a long, narrow hallway, the
sounds of bells and rattles of trolleys, the whiz of young doctors
and nurses, the state of the place. A weary looking lady was
sitting up, knowing eyes taking it all in. She turned to me with a
glint in her eye and says “ Tisn't everyday you'll see this sort of
thing”, in a strong Cork lilt. “You're right there”, I said.
An old lady was wheeled in, shaking and distressed. This lovely lady
in her flower patterned nightdress, looked around, confused and
grasping her bright pink rosary beads. “Tis well you'd want them
girl” says the Cork lady blessing herself in salute to the beads. I
went over to see the older lady, asking her if she was OK. She said
she was “frozen stiff”. I went to see if I could rustle a
hospital blanket and found one on a rare, empty bed. It was thin,
well used and lacking a bit of Comfort and when i placed it on her,
she whispered, “It wouldn't keep much out”. Finally a young
doctor came, and very kindly explained to her where she was going to
next. She gave a little sad wave to me and was slowly maneuvered down the long
corridor, past girls in beautiful Saris gathered around their father, two punks with pink and blue hair, trainee doctors looking like they should still be in school with big glasses and earnest faces and an old man, with a red, friendly face, escaping into The Farmers Journal.
Waiting in the A&E, my other half
lay stretched out in a backless, blue gown, looking bemused and
confused by the whole carry on. The Cork lady pipes up “So, what
takes ye here then, love?” and I said “ The Kidneys”, keeping
it short and simple, in an attempt to dampen any more enthusiasm.
“Ah, when those kidneys let you down you could be in all sorts of
trouble”. Yes, indeed Dr. Cork I mumbled to myself.
Caught between a rock and a hard place,
on the other end of the bed was another colourful character, who was
happy to answer any questions over and over again to any trainee
worth their salt. I learnt things no lay person should ever have to
know, about blood clots, the size and texture, and to demonstrate the damage they had caused, with a grasping and tugging of the trousers. My other half, mumbles,“ This mindfulness racket is harder than it
seems”.
After hours of mindfulness training,
sitting and feeling the checked tiles beneath my feet, the
disinfectant billowing around my nose, the constant hustle and
bustle, I'm off on the course now, if only to get me away from too
much reality for a while.
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