Our life is unpredictable. At least once in our lives, each of us ends up in a hospital, and the usual flow of the day changes into hospital routine, where a strict order prevails and where a sick person becomes fully dependent on those around them, where pain and the inability to move freely drives them into depression. It is always a great lesson in humility, patience, and courage.
For three weeks now I've been watching the life of an ordinary ward in the trauma department, sitting beside my mother, who had an accident. In the ward, people of different ages have gathered, united by their injuries. Some had already been there for a while before us, some arrived after we were already there, and some appeared only briefly and, once they received help, left the hospital. The stories of these people were like open books.
It's interesting how you can imagine a person's entire life by seeing just one episode of them communicating with their family. This elderly woman had been in the hospital long before we arrived. She was being prepared for surgery, but she already had another problem, unrelated to her injury — Alzheimer's disease was gradually taking hold, erasing everything from her memory and taking away her clarity of mind. Her family was with her the whole time. Her two daughters and her husband took turns sitting by her bed, holding her hand and talking to her. And although she could no longer recognize them, they kept reminding her who they were and how much they loved her. And immediately a picture would appear in the imagination of this family's life several decades ago — Natalia, a young and energetic mother, cuddling her daughters and telling them bedtime stories, lovingly cooking meals and making a cozy home... Natalia's surgery was successful, but unfortunately, COVID took away her hope of recovery. She was taken to intensive care with severe pneumonia, and within a day she passed into eternity — perhaps her time had simply come.
A small, unassuming grandmother with signs of intelligence and culture, she was quiet and calm. She never complained, never wanted anything, and only occasionally asked for something to be handed to her. A week into our stay in the hospital, we were surprised that no one had ever come to visit her. By that time we had already gotten to know our roommates and were chatting a little on various topics. That's how I learned that Lidiia had worked her whole life as a music teacher at a school, that her late husband had been a military man, and that they had lived in different cities, even serving abroad for some time. I asked Lidiia about her children, and she replied that they lived very far away, which is why they couldn't visit her often. I began imagining distant overseas countries that could only be reached by plane. But it turned out that “far away” meant the other side of the city...
When she appeared in the ward, it felt as though it had become brighter and cozier. Svitlana simply radiated positivity. Her smile was inspiring, and the stories she told lifted everyone's spirits. Being around her was fun and joyful. It was hard to believe that this energetic, talkative person had already been getting around on crutches for several months since her first surgery, and had now arrived at the hospital for her next one. She still has a long road ahead to recovery. It's amazing where she finds the strength...
An elderly woman ended up in the hospital after a bad fall. She came through her surgery well and began to recover. And although her results were good and the doctors were pleased that everything was fine with her, she remained sad and gloomy the whole time. Her family visited her often, tried to cheer her up, and brought her all kinds of treats, but depression wouldn't leave her. It was clear that Mrs. Olena had a good family that provided her with everything she needed, yet for some reason she was constantly dissatisfied with life and took no joy in anything. After a while, something in her changed, and she began talking with her roommates and sympathizing with their troubles. Gradually her gloomy mood shifted, and Mrs. Olena awakened to life again.
An ordinary young woman, we learned, was a professional violinist who played in a symphony orchestra. A whole world of music arrived in the ward with her. We learned about her German violin from a master craftsman, which she spoke of as if about a close friend, about the outstanding teachers who had inspired her, and about the demanding yet inspired work of a musician. It felt as if her stories were accompanied by music. Iryna also told us about her second profession, which she decided to pursue in order to support herself financially. Alongside her musical career, she works as an accountant. Such are the realities of life.
It was fascinating to watch how these people, so different from one another, formed their own small community, where compassion, mutual help, and emotional support prevailed, where every story resonated in the hearts nearby and found its continuation here, in this small ward. And this experience of connection gradually changes everyone so much that, once they return to their ordinary lives, they will already be different, and will look at and relate to the world around them differently.
