Escape

The sky is blue today. My kids are playing at the fair. Cows. Sheep. Rides. Fun.

And I'm living vicariously through their fun. I'm picturing Elise jumping for an hour in the bounce house, and Jeffrey struggling to get her out. I'm imagining Zion copying her every move. Are they smelling hay? Is it noisy? Will they eat some sweet and greesy funnel cake?

I can imagine. I've never been to a state fair before. I'd like to go someday. But more than that, I really, really, really just want to escape.

Today I missed my 15 minutes of outside time. I'd asked my nurse if she would wheel me out and be my medical chaperone when she had some free time. But I never heard back.

And so I considered going out on my own. I thought of how good it would feel to have no glass between that big blue sky and me. And what a relief it would be to sit unnoticed amongst a group of people. Amongst the action and life. To be free again.

I pictured myself walking right through the lobby and out of here. And I didn't think the nurses would even notice.

Before my mom, who reads this blog, freaks out I should tell you that at this point the sane part of me began to argue back.

Me: "Really, what are the chances of something going wrong in 15 minutes?"
Sane me: "Hmm, I think it is actually pretty low. But still . . ."
Me: "The doctor did say that I could go out for 15 minutes with the nurse, and that's not much safer than by myself."
Sane me: "True, but she could wheel you back quickly if something happened."
Me: "Have you seen that blue sky? If I don't go now, the sun will set and I will spend the next 4 hours like I spent the last 7, and then I go to sleep. All in the same room."
Sane me: "How about a stroll around the unit? That's a change of scene. Will that make you happy?"
Me: "Sure, why don't I just put on my shoes and we'll start with a walk around the unit and talk more about this."
Sane me: "No! No shoes allowed or you might just walk on out of here. Socks only."
Me: "Okay, fine."

So I opened my door while clad in socks, the sane side of me ready for a walk around the unit and my other half still hoping for an escape outside. And there my nurse stood in the doorway, smiling and asking, "are you trying to escape?"

Caught. Caught in the act. Well, not really in the act - more like caught contemplating the act of escape.

Then any trace of a smile faded from her face and she told me she wanted to talk with me about that.

What followed was a heart felt lecture about the danger of me leaving the unit, at all, nurse or no nurs e, no matter what resident was informed, or which doctor said it was okay. She has seen a woman suddenly gush blood and need to be under the knife in minutes. It scared her pretty good - scared her enough for her to deliver a pretty scary and convincing lecture to me.

This seems to be just a part of my life now - me relaxing and feeling secure, and then someone hitting me over the head with reality. I don't know yet whether I'll head her warning or take the tidbits of freedom offered to me by my doctor. But no matter what, I can still imagine the feel of fresh air on my skin and the smell of hay at the state fair.

Or at I can least look at the pictures, and dream.