The Dark Tunnel by Sara Wright

Recently I had a very strange experience. I had fallen and was dumped into a nursing home to ‘recover’.

Since I have written about other aspects of this terrifying experience on this blog and published some pieces elsewhere, I am turning my attention to what happened to me after being drugged senseless, and then being stripped of every aspect of personal autonomy.

After I refused the 17 drugs, I incurred hostility from some nurses and aides who blamed me for having diarrhea and many other infractions none worth mentioning (one of the consequences of stopping the drugs was loose bowels).

 The one medication I needed was routinely withheld. Each time this happened I became more frightened and anxious. Shaky. These same caregivers either ignored me or intoned “all you have to do is relax, breathe”. They dismissed my PTSD/Anxiety disorder as some kind of psychological problem or were too ignorant or indifferent to care.

 I was the crazy one.

I broke down under this treatment, the filth, their refusal to help me bathe, or assist me to move to the commode in time (once I sat in my feces and urine for hours) before I was able to get out of bed on my own. Some hurt me deliberately when shoving me into bed adding another level of fear, although I complained. They refused to bring me nourishing food to eat.

Within a week of this treatment, I was so shaky and weak I could barely function let alone think about food. I stopped eating because I was throwing up. I was severely dehydrated but couldn’t seem to drink enough water to satiate my thirst. My veins turned blue as the skin on my hands shrunk. I was becoming a skeleton. The glaring overhead lights were never turned off while I was bedridden, and my photophobic eyes teared up and burned all day/night long. I feared permanent eye damage (which I now know I had). The noise was horrific.

I am a survivor and although my life had been shattered, I continued to resist while my broken body was ridding herself of the poisons she had been given while trying to heal. I couldn’t think about my dogs, plants, bird. or my home in the woods without falling into a suicidal pit. PAIN. Someone brought my girls to visit. Their stares of incomprehension unnerved me. They thought I was dead.  My life lost all meaning. They were better off without me. The days blurred.

 I enlisted the so-called social worker to help me get out. In theory, I knew they could not keep me against my will, but when I stated my position, I was told it was a process and it might be ‘quite a while’ before I was released. I pressed for a date – none was forthcoming. I thought if I had an endpoint, I might be able to hang on… I didn’t believe for a second that these people were interested in my release. One nurse stonewalled me. I received nothing but doubletalk at the meeting I was forced to attend.

 In retrospect it’s easy to see what finally broke me was that every aspect of my life had been taken over by a deadly health system that could have cared less if I lived or died.

The Monster in the closet was CONTROL.

One night lying in bed (I rarely slept) I was sucked into liminal space and found myself inside a long narrow dark tunnel. There was a medicine man at the other end, but he was unable to reach me. I wept.

 Then I made a desperate plea. I opened my IPHONE and wrote the following words in a hazy blur:

The SKELETON TREE

LITTLE DID I KNOW

IT WAS ME

RIPPED BY HER ROOTS

TORN FROM WET GROUND

UNABLE TO STAND

HER BONY FINGERS

MY OWN

SHATTERING

SCREAMS

THE ANGUISH OF

BELOVED DOGS

THE LAST SOUNDS

I HEARD BEFORE

 BEING TOWED AWAY

THROUGH A DRUGGED HAZE

TWO WHITE CROSSES

SIDE BY SIDE

TOLD THE TALE

DOUBLE CROSSED

 I SURRENERED…

THE MONSTER BOYS

TWO FACED TWINS

FELL

FROM SPLINTERED

STARS….

IF IT’S TIME

TAKE ME HOME

TO WITHERING LEAVES

AND BITTERSWEET

ORANGE

CRACKLING PALMS

LET ME

HEAR

A CHICKADEE

WRAP MY ARMS

AROUND

TWO WARM

ANIMAL BODIES

FEEL LIFE

AND PEACE

PULSING

THROUH THEM

I AM SLIPPING AWAY…

LET ME HEAR

 MY DOVE

SING

FEEL

THE EARTH

RISE UP

AROUND ME

HOLD ME

IN HER ARMS

THE ONLY

MOTHER

I HAVE EVER KNOWN.

(LATER AT HOME I PENNED:

THE ANIMAL HEALER’S

 LOVE SAVED ME.

THE MONSTER TWINSARE DEAD.)

After that heroic effort I felt myself slipping into dead air. I was no longer strong enough to keep advocating for myself, I thought. Let me get it over with.

So this was what it was like to go through the process of dying, some part of me thought. Take away every living being that matters and it’s easy to let go. I was caught between worlds – wanting to die and numbness.

But not quite.

Enter my beloved Vet. On his first visit he brought me a desert plant* which immediately started losing its ‘leaves’. much to my horror. Plants know. They can respond to human suffering by expiring too. What struck me as odd was that this plant and I didn’t know each other (my experience indicates that developing a relationship matters – but this plant suggests that new plants respond either way if cared about). The plant’s response was a visceral one – I cared for my sedum as if my life depended on it ….

Then there were other visits….Gary’s tears of grief, the look in his eyes, his holding my hand in the dark made me believe that someone really cared… His Presence made all the difference. The rest of the story has already been told.

After Gary became Power of Attorney, I was immediately released.

Postscript:

I have always been afraid of death, perhaps more than other folks because I was abandoned first by my mother and then by my whole family, but this experience changed my perspective on dying. When you have been stripped of everything that matters fear of death loses meaning…