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Illustration by Sarah Farquhar
They say life humbles you in unexpected ways. It puts you in strange situations that often turn out to be transformational. Though uncomfortable and unpredictable, these moments leave you with lessons that remain with you forever. Events such as childbirth, the loss of a loved one or the end of a years-long relationship change the very course of life. Sometimes, setbacks force you to take stock of everything that has happened in your life. Certain places, too, strip away the superficial, pull back the curtain on reality and push you to confront the truth. A hospital is one such place, and I found myself in one a couple of months ago.
Those five days were the longest I have ever known. The initial “Why me?” storm slowly settled when I realized I was no longer in charge of my life and that nothing in the world would help me get back on my feet any sooner than time allowed. I then truly learned that the phrase “time is a healer” applies to most helpless situations in life.
With much time to spare, I began noticing things I had never paid attention to before. That pigeons’ eyes are orange-coloured was a discovery I shared with my visitors. For a split second, I even envied the bird’s freedom as it sat outside my window, cracking its neck, preening its feathers and almost mocking me with its majestic walk. How I longed for a simple stroll in the park under the warm sun – a pleasure we mostly take for granted. What a bliss it is to move, explore and exist unburdened, I realized when my body was immobile with tubes and wires pinning me to a cold white bed.
Across the street from my hospital was a market with clothing and grocery stores. Each day, from my window, I saw people coming in and out from them. I indulged in what, considering my reality, was “window shopping.” One day, while staring blankly outside, I questioned my sanity. How did buying clothes and food feel mundane till now? My blue checkered hospital pyjamas and trays of bland hospital meals made me long for something regular, something real. It struck me then – what feels mundane and regular in life is, in fact, a privilege only the very fortunate enjoy. But the funny thing about privileges is that we rarely see them for what they are until they are taken from us.
I realized life has a way of halting us in our tracks, of reminding us of its supremacy. When we rush through life, forgetful and ungrateful of its bounties, it makes us pause like a mother holding back her impatient child to say grace before a meal. I recognized the fragility and mortal nature of human life while signing some customary “informed consent’” forms, which literally deciphered meant that I acknowledged sole responsibility for my fate. I took a deep breath and said a silent prayer before signing them.
At that moment, I learnt that deep down, all we ever want is just to be able to live for the love of those waiting for us at home. And that it may be a primitive human desire to return home safely. To be able to hug our children, look after our families and nurture the lives around us is a gift big enough to be grateful for. And being able to go about life’s routine and getting tired of it also calls for our gratitude.
Five days later, I came home with a few life-long scars and lessons. That life’s prettiest view is the radiant smile on your child’s face. Its sweetest sound is the chatter of your family around the dinner table. And its greatest treasures are the people who would gladly trade places with you to spare you the pain.
I also discovered that some of life’s sternest teachers appear in unexpected forms – sometimes in the guise of a hospital window.
Prabhjot Kaur lives in New Westminster, B.C.
