Nightmare/dreamland

First it was great relief and extreme gratitude. Then of course, I hate it. Now, trying very hard to accept my situation. Balancing a nightmare with the insights of actually living in a dreamland.

Two weeks ago my back went out in a really bad way. For a week friends and family were on call 24-7 to get me through the long days and the panicking nights. Normally that’s about the time I need before I can take care of myself again, but this time it’s a lot worse.

I reported that Sunday when checking into it, there was no help to get from society in a situation like that. In Sweden. So, I was lucky to have people around me that I could turn to.

I can’t say how grateful I am. Agneta S, Maria B, my neighbor Isa, my sister Kia, Eva, AnnSofie, Alex, Agneta P, Mats, my nephew Johannes and his wife Lisa, and Maria P. And most of all: my beloved son Trouble 1 who is the only one physically strong enough to lift and carry me when things are at it’s worst. And the only one who, of course can’t say no, and puts his life on hold when I’m in need. I don’t have words for what they all did, and are doing for me. And it’s not like these people have a lot of time on their hands. They are busy busy busy, squeezing me in into their tight schedule. The only good thing about my situation is that I’ve really got to hang out with my friends in a way our calendars normally don’t let us do. Loved that part of it!

So, I desperately needed to find a different solution. And it turned out that there actually is help to get. After all. And I am so glad I was wrong on that subject.

Since a week back now I have home care service six times a day. I have a safety alarm on my wrist, and people putting me to bed and checking in on me during the night. This is provided by the City of Umeå, I am paying a small amount of money for this service, but have of course contributed all my life, paying taxes. So have my friends, family and the Swedish people.

I am actually surprised. What some of my American friends call the dreamland Sweden has been dismantled in so many ways during the right wing government these last six years. And I know this through personal experiences; it’s not just hearsay and media reporting. So finding out that parts of Sweden still works in a way we can be proud of makes me happy and gives me some hope.

And here I am now, lying flat on my couch, hearing people stomp their feet off at my front porch every other hour, opening the door to my home. They get me out of bed, take me to the bathroom, dress me, make me breakfast and heat up food for dinner for me. Only this week I’ve met thirteen different people. Some are really really nice. Good persons, suitable for their task. Some are… I don’t know, slipped in or stayed too long, stinking cigarette smoke and not even having bedside manners.

The hardest part though is being put to bed by people who hardly take their coat off while here, but wearing thin rubber gloves. And in the middle of the night they are back to take me to the bathroom. Putting the key in my door, turning the brights on, then off they go. Cause I am just one out of everyone that needs this supervision. I feel like I am a part of some under ground invisible group managed by these rubber gloves. And of course, no one can help me with the pain. When the knife cuts right into me terrified body I’m as alone as always.

I don’t sleep. I don’t feel safe. The idea of all this care is, making me safe. But I’m not. I don’t sleep and I don’t feel safe. And I hate it. I hate not being able to take care of myself. I hate having strangers in my house helping me out with my most private matters. I am so nice. I chat, I ask them how they are, if the road here was bad. I make excuses for the un-shoveled path into my house. I smile and I’m so brave.

It’s Advent 1^st. Fall has been warm and rainy, but the first day of December came with big cold snowflakes, covering the landscape in white fluff, like it was shipped in for winter. Johannes and Lisa decorated my house with Advent stars and light wreaths earlier this week. Maria P brought me glögg (mulled wine) Friday evening. I know, that from outside my place here at the end of the road looks like a wonderful Christmas card.

But I am sad. I am working on accepting my situation, making it a normal every day life. And I am trying so hard being grateful. And I am. Knowing that if I was a citizen of Seattle and the US this kind of help and assistance is only to dream of. So I am living in a dreamland after all. Only, right now, it still feels like a nightmare.