While walking in Brisbane I slipped on a wet surface landing with the full weight of my body on my right ankle.
This fall has seen me confined to rest at St Vincent's hospital in Brisbane while my ankle adjusts to the newly inserted screw which holds it all together.
Apart from the obvious life changing experience of lack of mobility and the visual drama of my lower right leg recently encased in a bold pink cast I have had that rare and gifted opportunity to become immmered in the world of care and compassion that is the heartbeat of a hospital.
There is nothing romantic about this immersion in a public ward of four when you are challenged daily to declare whether or not your bowels have moved.
Among those who share this rehabilitation space with me are many carrying permanent scars of lost limbs and bodies that will take much longer than my brief six weeks to heal.
The nursing, catering and pastoral care create an environment of safety and welcome that nurtures recovery or at least adjustment to changed circumstances. My 4th floor home has a collection of scenic prints between medical signage and COVID19 instructions.
I am able to be "wheeled" down to the ground floor cafeteria to sit on the deck and bask in the great outdoors with the resident lizard. Around the foyer near the cafeteria are art works from local artists displayed as part of a special project. I don't know if we also have the benefit of those musicians who volunteer to play in the foyers of Brisbane hospitals.
Visitors and Tim Tams are are welcome if you are in the legality
