While on the cot reposando as we say in Spanish, it never occurred to me to have visitors. It was always others worried about it and I suppose I got caught in that current of thought. Suffice to say I had none who worried in earnest about my state of well being, as I recall, as soon as I could get back in touch with my barrio some shared their preocupations but real worried people I had none. My youngest kid came to visit but what a disaster. I suppose I did have premonitions of what the kid was about, somehow lurking behind my conscious a nagging notion that something wasn’t right about the kid manifested itself in the worst kind of nightmare in my dream world. What a dream, that is a whole chapter onto itself. When I regained consciousness it did turned out to be true unfortunately.
I suppose one is wont to not believe the worst about ones kids and yet the facts are all there. The kid planned a parting of the soul. My finances were ransacked and I was taken advantaged of. My other kid did not care about my condition and if I am to believe the young kid, death was wished upon my soul. Who knows, maybe the elder kid doesn’t or even knew about my condition but my father-in-law knew so I guess the elder child knew as well. My family in a nutshell. They hate me. So no visit at all. I did get a few visits from my youngest kid but I guess it was all about extracting and mining info. I hold no grudges, not my thing but I did get hurt by it, I am human after all. I also received a visit from a colleague but Swedish culture doesn’t allow for said expressions of caring for others. It is a rather cold culture from our perspective but that is the way they are.
Other than that the staff of the hospital did a great job to provide some sort of human touch during my convalescence. I distinctly remember how some nurses held my hand during my awakening, my return to reality. I did not still understand the amount of tubes keeping me alive, I went through some dialysis mind you, so a lot of tubes were attached to my organs somehow. I also remember a doctor who gave me his hand and I wanted to keep a hold onto it but it was yanked abruptly by the doc something that shocked me a tad and made me realize the cruelty of humanity. I got over that quite quickly, as always, I guess am built for that type of solitude but I never feel alone if you will. I won’t renegade about my lot. It is what it is. I just accept it and go about hoping things will change to the better even though my solitude has been lingering quite a few years and still going strong. What is one going to do? I can’t explain it with psychobabble and I hate comparing it to cultural differences because I don’t think things would have been different in México or the USA. Honestly. I do not know nor will I ever know that. So yes, I was alone but only in the eyes of others. Do I wish it was different? Off course I do, who wouldn’t it? Again, it is what it is inasmuch as I also accept the nature of Swedishness, this lot is the way it is warts and all.
I do confess though it is a bit annoying by George all the nagging about this business of company. People just don’t understand people who are somewhat ok by themselves.