Rehab-Angels and Miracles do Exist

It seemed so weird that this was me. I had such a joyful childhood. Parents that loved me, a home filled with that love and security. Just like being wrapped in one of my grama's handstitched quilts on a winter's evening. Well it was certainly a winter's evening.

That first night was so awful, coming down off the drugs. Scared out of my mind. Feeling as if my family would never love or understand me again. I have never felt so alone. I was put in a room with another woman who was much worse off than me. She was not rational and would periodically start screaming for what appeared to be no reason. I tried to calm her and then go and get someone to help. There were guards outside the doors, and when she would quiet down I would burrow under the covers and cry and pray that I would survive this ordeal and be able to get back to my family. I would do anything. I made it through that first night although I didn't sleep at all. The next morning I found out some of the trials of my roommate, and I began to feel bad and a bit of compassion made its way into my shellshocked soul as I realized that these people would be my family for a few weeks. The strange group wandering the halls of this hospital were all children of God. I was exactly the same as the homeless and the schizophrenics. It doesn't matter whether you are a teenager trying to get high, someone escaping from life's difficulties, or getting hooked because of medication taken while ill. It is all the same. We were all the same in God's eyes. If I were to survive, I needed to learn and feel that lesson and love that same way. In those first days the love that came over me was so overwhelming. I felt a strong love for those in the hospital with me and I started to feel the Lord's arms wrapped firmly around me.

I resolved to do my best.

The Room- It is there for those who are so dangerous to themselves or others that they are put in solitary confinement. It is a plain room with no bathroom, bed bolted to the floor, one blanket, no window. They also lock you in with an aide sitting outside the door. The third night of my hospital stay, I had not slept at all. I was exhausted - my goal was to stay active during the day and pray that I would be able to sleep at night. That third night it was getting close to midnight and sleep wasn't happening, again, so I went out and asked the nurse if the solitary room was being used. There was no one there that night. I have never been so grateful. I thought for just a moment of my big beautiful bed at home with its quilt, the warm soft comforter and the clean crisp sheets. Oh, those down pillows I sink my head into at night. I looked at this cell like room and realize I only need one small bed, one pillow, one blanket, one quiet room. I heard the door lock as the aide left, said a prayer of thanksgiving, got into bed and for the first time in days fell asleep.

After a night's sleep my head is clearer, I am ready for whatever this place has to offer me. I wonder now if I would change things if I could? I can't, What's done is done. But, with much introspection, crying out, prayer and meditation I don't know if I would change everything. I feel kind of like I have moved to a different room, that I jumped off my world and took this opportunity to stop and realize that I needed to take inventory, that I needed to humble myself. I learned here in rehab that no matter who any of us are here on earth, we all have flaws, some bigger than others. I was flawed and because of this I needed to stop and be "deflawed". Realizing this and doing something about it has put me in a different place - a place where my mind is more open to learning, to accepting, to loving unconditionally. To try to be humble always, to accepting things I can't do anything about and having the strength to do something if I can help. I feel calmer. I feel more peaceful. I feel more positive and happy. I like this room better and I want to stay here.

I fulfilled all the requirements and moved into another section of the hospital. There was a bit more freedom and a nicer room. The classes were more informative and the therapy more intensive. I could go to the cafeteria for lunch. It's funny, but when I saw my friends from the other section I run to see them as if they are my long lost family. We bonded in that short time. Here in this place when I finally let my guard down I felt love for my neighbor quickly. It was a lovely lesson in caring for all people. I remember one night in our wrap up meeting before bed as we go over the day, I told the group how I felt about them. I had discovered a new word "psala", which is an ancient Hebrew word meaning "to pause". That night as I paused and looked into each face I realized what each of these people had taught me. We weren't all a bunch of "crazies" or "drug addicts", but valued children of God. I remember thinking at this particular time I started believing in angels and miracles again. These people were just the first of many angels and were apart of many miracles that would be regular occurances in my life.