Beginning 2024 in the Hospital and Ending 2024 in the Hospital

Damn.

I am still on holiday break BUT…

I felt bad not pulling my weight or giving as much as possible to those kind enough to support, so wanted to sprinkle a few pieces in between now and the New Year (though I also hope you are taking a break too, and proper relaxing?), just incase you feel you’re not getting your money’s worth.

That sounds crass but… I worry that people think that way and can’t help myself.

(I think the people who think that way are people who genuinely stress the $2 difference between Walmart and Target. And even if you’re a Target person on a Walmart budget, you still know that a $1 uncharge for ambiance can’t be afforded. You know? Relate? Just me?)

Anyways, so here is a little holiday compilation piece- extended and uncut, as per tradition on Substack (unlike @catchingbreaths where it has to be hyper shortened and chopped up like a Timbaland song).

I’ll keep dropping some thank you cards (= words) here and there, and will be back ASAP to give a few extended, uncut longer pieces on the surgery I am having the last couple of days of 2024…

And then will hopefully kick into 2025 with a grateful word bang. (That does not sound the way I want it to sound?)

Beginning 2024 in the hospital and ending 2024 in the hospital is rough and definitely reflective of how hard the last year has been, so being able to know I still upheld my [almost] Every Weekday Writing Promise here and began this journey with my Word Nerd friends thanks to just one kind human’s ask to have my pieces archived in a better reading space… well, it makes me kind of proud?

This road began almost a year ago (February 2024)…

And I truly can’t believe it’s almost been a year here, AND that being in the hospital (meaning, overnight stays or large operations- not annoying weekly visits) something like 9 or 10 times in one year has somehow not stopped me from keeping this writing promise.

I mean… I don’t want to toot my horn but… that’s kind of significant right? I am genuinely stream-of-consciousness processing and questioning this in real time as I type this.

Damn.

Anyways, can’t wait to write more… share about the operation that’s ahead (likely safely behind me by the time you read about it- fingers crossed!) and…

Keep being friends for another year?

xoxo

Bailey Anne

(and/or, B)

I have a theory about hospitals that also applies to holidays.

For a long time, I’ve said: “Why don’t ALL hospitals look like children’s hospitals?”

Adults would appreciate bright colors in drab, greige hallways just the same. Adults would love to have reasons to gather and do crafts, or have music provided nearby, or animals come around for a wag and a wiggle.

I’m so grateful we make pediatric wards look as full of vibrancy and creativity as we possibly can, but I’ve always wondered…

Don’t all humans need and benefit from those things?

If we can make it happen at one age, why don’t the elderly deserve the same, for example?

It’s possible… so why do we think that our brains and hearts don’t need color and compassion at every phase of life, ESPECIALLY when life is fraught and painful.

I wish that hospital gowns could have fun patterns to them like nurses scrubs or surgeon caps - if someone is in the ward for a long time.

I wish that pharmaceutical pills that are only for long term or terminal ailments could be coated in a rainbow as well- so taking pills could have some fanfare to it; The reds of Tylenol or pink of Benadryl shows that it’s very well possible.

I wish that beauty school students who need training hours could to rounds for long-stay patients - helping paint the nails or detangle hair of CF or transplant patients (for example) who feel so far from human. Those who haven’t known a human touch that doesn’t lead to a needle or traumatic invasion.

Holidays can do more than just gift us things (and make us weird, winter, cold sweat through our pajamas because groups of people gathered somehow makes your body overreact).

Holidays can make everyday things feel better.

And… I guess I just believe that hospitals could do that too ?

After the ‘Tis Season, chocolate no longer unscientifically tastes better just because it’s in the shape of a bell or a tree.

Side streets and living rooms don’t continue looking extra magical with white lights and twine and candles (even though they really should because they make everything prettier and that IS science).

I think we would still appreciate the little things, even if they happened more.

I think we would still heal, even if the environment was less terrifying.

It’s hard to see Oz in monochrome, once we’ve known the other side.

---

“This is a good thing.”

This is what my neurosurgeon said to me on a telehealth a week or so ago, shortly after I told him I’m returning to work.

I’m not returning in the sense of being responsible for the hearts, souls and skeletons of dancers I would have protected with my own life… because my own skeleton still has a handful of major steps to survive first, and a few shadows to hopefully endure.

But as I take one timid toe shoe out of the shadows to try to regain my balance - wanting to rebuild the parts psychologically shattered for the last year, while I finishing waiting for the parts somatically once shattered to finally fuse - I know I have to be responsible for healing myself before I can protect others in the way I can’t accept any other way but to do.

It’s hard to talk about work without feeling like I have to justify why I’m doing some things and not others… but if I’ve learned anything about cruel timings of years passed, it’s that timing is everything. Even if others can’t see the clock, we have to trust our own.

“I’m starting back to work,” I said to one of my two spine doctors I was speaking to that week.

They all convene together and discuss patients at the clinic - suggesting better alternatives, or bartering over points one or the other might have forgotten. Something about that is so comforting to me. Even though the scariest part of dancing is the certainty that someone will talk about someone behind someone else’s back, it’s something we should do in medicine far more. At least when it benefits the patient.

I’ve been a patient patient for an almost year- working from home doing quiet freelance gigs that can’t be seen as much from the surface as the glitter and glue of other more showy showtime schedules.

To be honest, I’ve been so proud of some of the callbacks I’ve received thanks to my amazing agent and a lot of crossed fingers - even though the timing of travel wasn’t possible for my pocketbook, in order to seal the deal.

Still, even knowing I might have had a chance had deals with some companies I’ve dreamed of my whole life is something I’ll know in the back of my mind for forever.

No one under values me more than me, most of the time… but this last year has added a host of vocal, unforeseen compatriots to the list.

I’ve read things I can’t unread.

I’ve witnessed what people can do when they think someone’s back is turned.

“I need to get back on the horse,” I said to my doctor, recognizing the longest year of my life in oh so many ways (unfortunately minus the equestrian component)…

“But I don’t know how I’m going to do this much dancing. My quality of life has been so low for so long. And it’s not like my spine is magically going to regenerate. Here I am signing on two different dance busks… and I can’t even sit through this telehealth without actual genuine suffering.”

“You need this,” he said, somewhat much to my surprise. Maybe even (hopefully) to yours.

In a world of medical cynicism, having physicians see that if a patient can’t survive psychologically… what’s the point of surviving l physically?

There wont be much of them left to go around if they don’t exist.

Kindly consider booming a supportive Word Nerd if you’re able (every little bit counts and helps keep this ongoing memoir going, or… Share with you someone you like?