Into Intensive Care

Into Intensive Care

About 24 hours after the start of the first operation, I finally woke up; the first words I heard were from a lovely Irish nurse, trying to convince me it would be a very good idea to get up at once and sit in a chair for a few minutes. 

Even with the effects of the anaesthetic causing me to have strange visions, I can still remember everything about her gentle persuasion!

She said, "Come on, now, Alexandra; you're a fine woman! You can do it!" 

"No, I can't," I said, "I'm a cat. Meow."

"I love cats," she said, "and you can do it!"

Well, in spite of having very, very strange visual disturbances after all the anaesthesia I'd been given, I realised I had to make an effort; but my goodness, it was a terribly hard effort. 

And it was very slow. But somehow, I managed to get my legs off the bed, and with the nurse's help, I got up. The next bit is still rather hazy, but I think having managed that initial stage, I was able to lie down again, and what a blessed relief it was. 

I knew they were not real, and the the weird visions I was experiencing were not frightening, but I was seeing huge areas of what looked like pink sphagnum moss swirling and whirling on the walls, rearing up like the great long neck of the loch ness monster, before collapsing into another shape and then changing again and again. Another vision was as though I was on a fairground ride - not a big dipper, but one going through various tunnels, and there were strobe lights going round and round, to make you feel giddy. I have actually been on a ride like that once, and I could stop the sensation now, by closing my eyes, but I was still aware the "whirligigs" were on-going, projected on to the walls. 

Later, when I told him of these ... hallucinations? ... Al's comment was: "Grandma: there are some people who pay an awful lot of money on drugs for these experiences ... and you had what they would call 'a bad trip'!" 

Such "psychedelic trips" I can definitely do without. 

The nurses had looked after my mobile phone with the WhatsApp facility on it, and I remember trying to call home; I knew exactly what I wanted to say - my  mind was clear enough for that - but my fingers wouldn't obey my instructions for typing a message, and I sent a couple that were truly garbled. Oh dear. At least, I guess everyone knew I was awake at last, and trying hard to communicate.

Later, I wrote a couple of tone poems, detailing what I'd seen under the influence of the anaesthesia; looking at them later, I realised how compromised my handwriting and co-ordination had been, but at least I had been able to write something down, and it was legible enough for me to read it afterwards. I also wanted some reassurance that I was regaining the ability to think and write creatively; it was a relief to feel it was coming back. 

Here, then, are my most immediate efforts at recording what I was seeing in Intensive Care: 

VISUAL DISTURBANCES 

 

1: Sphagnum Moss

 

Sphagnum moss – but it’s pink, not green

In swirling shapes, every changing scene

One moment like a murmuration of starlings, the link –

But not black, it’s pink.

 

The changes seemed to spread, great pink meshes

Metamorphosing into bug-necked monsters

Heads collapsing onto breast and dissolving

Into wilder and wilder concepts, moment to 

Moment changing into a more extreme form

Of blob.

 

Shall it ooze underneath the doorway – and

Regenerate itself skywards? But no! It has

Climbed, to even greater heights, splitting,

Dividing until night sky is filled with pink

Dots, swirling never ending circles, moving

Round until there is no more sky.

 

 

2: Fairgound Ride

 

Rolling lights – a fairground

But this is ICU

Not for these residents

Happy holidays

Close your eyes

Concentrate on other senses

In your head –

Better than lights to make you

Dizzy –

Better than lights to confuse.

 

 

Alexandra Wilde – Intensive Care poems: 23/24 February 2021