I had my second appointment at wound care since my insurance was reinstated. I heard the doctor before I saw her…it was Dr. R1 instead of Dr. R2, who I usually see these days. When she comes in, I call her by the wrong name. “Oh, I’m sorry, I always get you two mixed up. You could be sisters, you know.” She laughs; the two doctors are polar opposites of each other. R1 is boisterous and excitable, a middle-aged white woman with no indoor voice. If you met her on the street you might think she was on a lot of drugs, or else needed some. R2 is friendly but reserved, with a bone dry sense of humor. She travels and reads a lot. She is Black, and always wears an African cap of some sort. They both seem intensely focused on their work and neither has any tolerance for bullshit. I’ve grown to admire and trust them both.
“I can’t believe how good this looks!” she screeches, prodding my toes. “I really think we are going to save this toe!” Then she looks at my other foot, which still has a wound on it. "Oh, I'm not sure what's going on with this one though. We might have to get you casted up. We'll keep an eye on it for now."
“Is that Seann I hear?” One by one, the nurses push aside the curtain to say hi. Last of all is KC, who comes over and gives me a hug.
“When are you coming back to us?” she asks.
“That’s a good question. When am I coming back, doc?”
“Well it’s complicated,” she says. “It could be a couple of weeks.” I am crestfallen, and no amount of positive prognoses or hugs from pretty nurses can brighten me. I had hoped to resume any day now but this just keeps dragging on and on.
R1 explains that Emanuel hospital is closing their hyperbaric department the next day, which is May 1st, and there has been a rush of people trying to get in. “They have a group chamber that can hold twelve people at a time!” she says, her eyes wide with wonder. “Can you imagine?”
I don’t have to; I find a news segment from a few years ago that gives a tour of the whole thing. It looks kind of like a fallout shelter, with rows of cots along the sides. The newscaster mentions that it’s Hyperbaric Awareness Month, which was launched in 2021 and just happens to be in May. There is a website promoting the procedure called Hyperbaric Aware. Their slogan is “Healing Under Pressure.” Their site features attractive people wearing apparel that reads Pressure On and Just Breathe.
I try to enjoy my afternoon but I can’t stop fixating on just how tired I am all this. I want my life back. I want to go out and do things and meet people without constantly worrying about my health. It’s so hard to appreciate the small things when you live in the constant shadow of the big things.
I know I’m ungrateful and probably unpleasant to be around. But it’s so difficult to fight the self-absorption when it’s just you, stuck at home by yourself every day. Hours and hours of nothing, and I can’t concentrate on my art or reading. This has been going on for too long. My brain has cracked under the pressure. The process of healing has left me permanently scarred.
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