When I was walking to the hospital on Saturday morning, my brain was jumbled.  It was like someone had thrown a blanket over my head.  I remember muttering “I’ll be safe soon.  They’ll take care of me.”

And then there was the lovely couple from Ghent that I’d met on the bus to Düsseldorf on Friday.  We agreed to meet at 5:00 pm Saturday and go to dinner. 

I felt guilty as I walked.  If I was admitted to hospital, I wouldn’t be at our meeting spot and I didn’t have any contact information.  So I wouldn’t be keeping my word.  And who knows what they’d think of my absence?  I couldn’t corral in my mind that I was not at fault.

***

In Emergency I vomited twice more into my trusty Carrefour Express plastic bag.  It had been my companion all night.  The second time happened as I was talking to a doctor.  She asked me to put the bag in the garbage, and I said no.  I didn’t want to part with the stinky thing.  Minutes later, I changed my mind.  Such a strange experience, having a brain undone.

***

When I got to my room, I panicked.  The window was open and the temperature might have been 18 Celsius (64 Fahrenheit).  “It’s too cold!” I semi-yelled.  The shivering seemed uncontrollable.  And I actually had the thought that I was going to die in the cold. 

Two staff members helped me from the Emergency bed to my temporary home bed.  They pulled a white comforter up to my chin as I shivered away.

It was blessed relief.  “I’m okay.  I’m safe here.”  And I fell asleep.

I look back at this moment and remember how I used to suck my thumb as a kid, holding my teddy bear.  Teddy comforted me.  And I continued to suck my thumb with him till I was ten.

***

Early Saturday in bed was an astonishing experience of weakness.  I was lying on my back and couldn’t roll to my side, much less sit up.  The nurse asked me to unbutton my sleeve so she could take my blood pressure.  Nope.  Unscrewing the cap of a bottle of water was impossible.

Later I was sitting up, I looked over the foot of my bed to the table set up for eating and realized that I’d never get over there in my current state.  My little cardboard puke dish stayed ready for action.

Sunday the vomiting had stopped, along with the nausea.  Thank God for modern science.  And lots of sleep.  I’m very glad I chose the hospital on Saturday morning.

I look back now and get how fragile I was, how I needed help doing just about everything, how I let go into being cared for, how precious it was on Sunday when I could walk with my IV pole to my room’s bathroom.

***

It’s Monday.  I’m in isolation, with staff coming and going in their masks and gowns.  Although food poisoning is the likely cause of my woes, the doctor is looking at the possibility of some infectious condition.

In three hours or so, my doctor will come back with the verdict: either she’s sure it was food poisoning, and I can go back to the Airbnb today (and home on the bus tomorrow) … or I get to experience the hospitality of Evangelical Hospital awhile longer.

Thanks for listening to me, dear friends known and unknown.

I wake up this morning with some energy returning.  No more vomiting.  And the anti-nausea meds are doing their job.

I want to write about some of the moments.   The ebb and flow of living a life has been on vivid display.

Much of the Jacob Collier concert I loved, and much of it I didn’t.  The negative was too many flashing lights, songs that seemed more noise than music, and a “Look at me!” tone.  The positive were sacred moments where Jacob and we created a choir of 7,000.  I was transported.

But something was wrong towards the end.  In me.  My life force was leaking out.  My joy was turning to dullness.  My stomach hurt.  I had been talking about life with the marvelous couple sitting beside me but as the concert moved to its completion, I hardly saw them.

Back to the Airbnb.  In the hours from midnight, I vomited ten times.  Twice more at the hospital.  I decided at home that I needed medical help.  I Googled “hospital near me emergency” and found “Evangelical Hospital”, an 18-minute walk away (translation for me: maybe half an hour).

I hadn’t figured out the Düsseldorf transit system.  The return trip from the concert happened because a kind woman helped me navigate the German-only instructions.  So I knew I had to walk to the hospital.

I was getting weaker.  I was staggering on the sidewalk.  The few passersby I passed at 6:00 am probably thought I was drunk.

Google Maps told me that when I got to a certain intersection, I had to walk two-fourths around a block to get to the entrance.  My mind was mostly gone.  I held my plastic bag for puking.  Google’s entrance was all alight … but the door was locked.  No bell for ringing.

And so … despair.

I looked around.  The street was dark and empty.  But then a car was coming.  I flagged the driver down.  He spoke English.  I told him my story, slurring some words.  He didn’t know where the Emergency entrance was.  I despaired some more.  I asked him to drive me to the other side of the hospital.  He said yes.

Three-fourths of the way around, rather than two, there was the entrance.

***

That’s all for now.  Time for more sleep.  Thank you for listening.