I drank a rainbow for breakfast. After filling my glass with water, to wash down the remains of sea buckthorn juice, I happened to place the glass right in a spot that caught a ray of rainbow from the sunlit crystal in the window. The foggy liquid filled with light and I drank it. Later in the morning, while I was out running errands, your doctor called. I’d just spotted the very first flower of spring in a courtyard when she told me the news - as early as tomorrow you will move to the brain injury rehab, a section of the hospital in the north of the city, a place for physical rehabilitation.
A flurry of excitement has overcome me. I’m so filled with the light and the warmth of this day, with the good news and springing flowers. It’s a sudden shake up of plans and I’ve rescheduled my week to drive to you this evening and pack the rest of your room, to help you prepare for the move. Tomorrow morning I’ll drive to the new clinic to meet you there as you arrive, so we can meet the new staff, new routine and your new temporary home together. I’ll bring your food and smoothies and help you settle in.
The full moon yesterday night was so powerful, rising between the trees right where I greeted the rising sun this morning. This evening, you can hardly believe your room is now emptied of your personal things. I cleaned off all the whiteboards, leaving a few of Esmilda’s fish for the next inhabitant. We’ve donated the bird feeder and left the big whiteboard and silent clock in the hope they will make some other patients lives a little lighter. Then I gave you a last foot massage in this room. My goodness, the hours I have massaged you in this room over the past five months. I said my goodbyes to the nurses and the big oak tree out the front.
You are busy thinking of details of things you might need to fix for tomorrow and I remind you that you don’t have to prepare anything, that everyone around you will take care of everything for you. It’s still hard for you to let go, to live your life as a princess, that your presence and your breathing are the blessing you have to offer. The hospital transport will collect you at eight thirty in the morning and I’ll be right there at the new place to meet you an hour later. We are so excited, everybody is raving about this other place, about how incredibly wonderful it is, so our hopes and spirits are flying.
Thank you to everyone who has donated to our Build a House of Dreams for Patrick gofundme, you have absolutely blown us away with an ocean of generosity. All donations, both on and offline have now been added to the gofundme page, pooling an astonishing 409 383 SEK. You are supporting us beyond our wildest dreams, while making them a reality. Thanks to all of you, we can continue building our home and centre for A R T I S T S in R E S O N A N C E this spring, now with the help of a builder. This gives us great hope.
In case you are new to this diary, Letter to my Love with your Brain on Fire can be read as a prelude.
Your comments, likes and shares are so warmly appreciated, even if it takes a while to respond… I promise we will eventually!
 | A guest post by
|
This is great news. Another achievement.
Exciting news!