Notes from the Hospital Bed

This is something I wrote a month ago when lying in the hospital bed, I was taken away from my busy life by the unannounced arrival of an emergency surgery.

That week in the hospital is probably the quietest period of my grown up life.

Strangely, I feel healthier when I was in hospital than now, the irony of a contemporary urban life.

“It was about six in the evening, early summer. Sunset adorns the sky with a subtle beam. The other side of the hospital is very quite. At this very moment, I couldn’t feel the existence of sickness, pain, hatred, bitterness, anger or powerless. It is just quite.
I took a stroll, looked at the trees. I can feel the passing of time, gently running through my finger, my hair and my body. I took a deep breath, I can see the flow of my thoughts very clearly, fear, self-pity, anger, dissatisfaction, bitterness, desire to get pass all the mentioned feelings.
Yet somehow I am at peace, as quite as this beautiful summer night. Old vines crapped around the building. The building is old and clean, almost has a sense of serenity to it. I stared at it, for this very moment, feeling like part of the vine. “
“Uniforms, numbers and routine. The hospital rubs you from you. Your ways of establishing yourself as someone who’s unique does not seem to matter. Yet it helps you to get in touch with the real self. The one undistracted, experiencing life as the presence, without trying to impress, win, convince any party. It almost feels like you belong here. You and your quite heart is in a better place here.”
“I wake up this morning listening to a mantra outside the room. Normally, I would feel slightly annoyed or nothing at all. Yet today I felt peace. Half awake, half asleep. I feel the constant chatter is trying to grab me again. There are questions, complaints, expression and volitions, agitation. Yet once I become aware of it, it went away. Then peace came back. “
“I took a longer walk this morning with the same route. The morning in the hospital has a unique tranquility to it. As if it was solemn, indeed it is. I can see the concerned family of the critical ill, exhausted medical stuff who just got off an overnight shift. Beyond all of it, there are birds humming, trees flipping, wind gently brushing off everything. It was just beautiful.
I thought about my normal days of walking past the small garden, watching the sunlight his the greens, dogs running and kids smiling. Once I stepped out, it was a busy morning of a urban life, people rushing to work, lining for breakfast, when I arrived at the office, I smelled the office building, fresh brewed coffee, perfumes people wear. At the hospital, there’s tree and dirt outside, sanitizer and medicine inside. Yet I enjoy my walk very much, having a routine makes me at peace. Breath in and out, I feel free. “