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| Don't judge dread... It can keep you safe too, just remember to challenge it rationally and kindly. And within the Law. |
I am hunched forward, sat staring at green-flecked linoleum flooring. I hear my mother sigh for what feels like the two hundredth time that hour. We found ourselves today at the Radiology department of a major North-West hospital, one I've seen a lot more of recently. I had a nasal endoscopy last week, and because of some concerns there are some follow-up tests being carried out today, namely to see if my sudden and unexplained weight loss (nearly two stone/25lbs in 10 weeks) could be attributed to as yet unknown tumours of either the lungs or colon. Now there's a cheery thought to keep you up at night. And the night after that. And probably the next few nights too...
All around me are others, in states of more or less obvious decrepitude, but most of us share that same middle-distance stare. They are running behind today, a smiling nurse apologetically informs us. The sea-foam green walls lend her words an unintended, cold indifference. "But we've been here an hour and a half" I want to plead, but of course I don't. I'm too nervous, and I know it. From everywhere and nowhere floats the quiet hum of air conditioning, respirators and a distant unwatched TV, punctuated every 25 seconds or so by either my mothers frustrated exhalations, or an unnerving alarm going off, or both. People dash from room to room, corridor to corridor, keen to avoid eye contact, except the staff, most of whom seem unnaturally cheery, as if this were a village bakery and not Gods waiting room. A tough-looking middle-eastern mother and daughter, dressed splendidly for the occasion and speaking an unusual and unidentifiable language, are the only ones who don't appear bothered by the indeterminable wait and seem to be actually complimenting and appreciating their surroundings. I am intrigued, and I later reflect on this...
I think it's worth remembering that this country's "problem" with immigration stems from the fact that Britain is actually a rather nifty place to find oneself, especially when compared to the other 99% of the planet's surface. Most of our shared earth is water-covered, so tera firma is a great start. Generally speaking, Britain is a pretty cushy deal, when compared to, say, South America. Or sub-saharan Africa. Or north Africa. Or China. Or India. Or Eastern Europe even... You see the pattern here, right? When you consider the basic maths, and the odds of you being born somewhere else, there's a lot to be grateful for, I recon. In Britain, we are blessed with hot running water, a National Health Service and hospitals in which to combine the two, for example. We are rarely troubled with anything more dangerous than boredom or high cholesterol, although nowadays I fear they are in danger of developing a symbiotic relationship. When compared to what most people subside on, the standard of living is astronomically high and the last significant tsunami was 8,000 years ago. In short, we lucky few in Britain have it very easy, and never more so than now. Convenience culture has bestowed upon our quaint little island a veritable smorgasbord of opportunity and levels of luxury hitherto unknown, plus we live in a time of democratic political stability. A glance at the headlines will attest that regrettably, this is by no mean so for the majority. The people of Ukraine may have McDonalds and Starbucks, but they also now have to wait in line with armed militia and order under the constant threat of sniper fire, although not literally, one hopes.
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Bleurgh! This picture does not do justice to some awesome, though foul-tasting technology!
We are very lucky to live in a world where these exist AND are available to us... Very lucky indeed!
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It's rare to have everything, and harder still to hold onto it if you do, so I chose to dwell on all the things I am grateful for. My Barium-fated future sat heavy on my shoulders; I realised I was begrudging the fact that I had to go to hospital in the first place. Yet most people don't even have access to the type of vending machines the hospital had, and I felt the gratitude extinguishing my anger at the morbidly obese patients queueing to get at them. We have gyms too, and leisure time in which we may find the opportunity to shed a few unsightly pounds, if we so choose. We have so much freedom of choice, it's rather wonderful really, and even though some choose to trash their bodies, many choose not to. Moreover, in the western world all governments have education systems which at least try to ensure that every child in the country is literate. That in itself is astounding, irrespective of the mixed fruits of those endeavours in this country.
So yes, we might have really crap shows on daytime TV in Britain, and yes, it is ironic that the hospital administrators chose the most life draining ones for their waiting rooms, but at least I live in a world where hospitals cater for the chronically under-stimulated, as well as people genuinely ill. There were no armed guards by the entrance to the hospital either, and the staff were lovely. After and hour or so of patient forbearance, I was led off into a private cubicle by a kindly nurse who was profusely apologetic. I reassured her I was quite alright, and she gave me some privacy. Vestigial garments were removed and I availed myself of the fresh, clean gowns offered. Again, fresh gowns - a luxury not to be taken for granted.
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| Sadly, my nurse was nowhere near this attractive, and I looked like a skinned lizard in a gown. Still, you might get lucky, but there are easier ways to get laid... |
Five minutes later she returned and led me down a disconcertingly breezy hall (?!) where I was then confronted with a room that resembled the set of a sci-fi thriller, Independence Day perhaps. It consisted of a table upon which the patient, whilst swallowing large amounts of radioactive Barium (I know, enticing, right?) is strapped down and can be raised, lowered, tilted or indeed inverted and jiggled if required, in order to sluice the foul-tasting paste through your liquid-bereft and food-starved tract. It was like a flight simulator set to 'toboggan', but slowly and without the visuals. Instead, a large, dark, multi-panelled screen swung round me wildly, like being inspected by a giant fly. It was at some point during my third cup that I nearly choked on the viscus white gloop. Not out of fear you understand, but from trying not to laugh! I got the giggles, I couldn't help it... The male doctor shouting "swallow" every 30 seconds... Recalling how I've never had to swallow on camera before... I lost it. Luckily for me, they seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of the stuff. Where were they getting it from? I looked at the elderly Asian doctor suspiciously, but he was fixated on the screen and although manning the joysticks masterfully, a face drained of all emotion was failing to see the funny side of it. Either way, humour helped me get through a rather unpleasant experience. A lot.
So sperm jokes aside, what are my reflections after what could prove to be a seminal day, as it were? No pun intended*, but sometimes we all have to do things that suck. When we anticipate something with dread, it feels like it is sucking the very life from us; hearing an 'ex' will be at a social engagement you can't get out of, your 'one-to-one' quarterly performance appraisal at work, traffic when we are running late - all these things literally 'suck' your happiness away. You just got to do what you can, when you can, as they say.
Occasionally, the things we dread are actually quite good for us and can turn out to be more fun than we thought; if we start by approaching any difficult or challenging situation with a sense of calm interest, determined self-assuredness and a well-humoured curiosity then we can at the very least reduce the amount of stress things causes us in our day to day lives. In my case, juvenile sniggers and a coughing fit help too..."Take it in your mouth... HOLD IT!... Now swallow... Take more, swallow more...!" I couldn't breathe, much less swallow, and in spite of the potential seriousness of the situation, I found it hysterical.
Because I'd been aware of my emotional state as a bit fragile when I went in, I was also aware of my surroundings: Thus I happened to notice the mother-and-daughter-combo, which lead to a kindly train of thought, and I rode the rails. This same train eventually pulled in to 'Gratitude Station', allowing me to alight and continue my day's journey via 'Equanimity Way.' It's a great way to travel and I thoroughly recommend it. I might have initially been waiting for the worst, but I know what's best for me. It's interesting, but when I stopped judging the dread harshly, and acknowledged it in a lighthearted way, all the tension lifted. Besides, a few nerves are to be expected with these things. But if we take time to also count our blessings, such as at living in a country with so much going for it, globally speaking, then it can bring a sense of balance and equilibrium to our hearts and minds.
We often don't appreciate the unforeseen brushstrokes of fate, and though we can't change the picture, we can choose to reframe it. Looking back, I feel grateful to my now-former-self, because whether you exercise it or not, there is one right that no-one can ever take from you - the right to choose how you respond to adversity. It's the only choice we truly have.
And I think that's something we can all agree on.
*all puns intended, by order of the management ;-)
