"When you don't know where or how to begin, then just write anything that comes to mind. The inspiration will come. Slow and late, but it will come. You can't force creativity."
So here I am, following my Newswriting lecturer's advice.
I got a little too eager in my sharing of personal experiences a fortnight ago.
So here I am, following my Newswriting lecturer's advice.
I got a little too eager in my sharing of personal experiences a fortnight ago.
Somehow the small talk in the meeting room on that day revolved around hospitals--government hospitals, to be specific--that and how they are actually very good, if not for the number of patients they are flooded with to the point of overflowing. More demand than supply.
So, when I shared about my experience in one of such hospitals, I was barely even scratching the surface. The mistake I made though, was telling the story from a patient's point of view instead of a visitor's. It led to the dreaded question coming from my boss: "What happened? How did you end up there?"
By the time I realized I'd made the wrong move, it was already too late.
The hasty answer I'd given--stress and exhaustion--was too simple, too vague and completely false.
PTSD triggers here.
What actually happened was this: Night out was over. My turn to be dropped off. The brothers thought I'd fallen asleep on the way home. As always, one would accompany me all the way to the elevator of my apartment--but that didn't happen. They couldn't wake me up. Not that I have been drinking myself senseless--the cocktails I had were all virgin. Yet I was unresponsive.
I woke up in the ER gagging on an OPA.
I did mention something to the boss about "almost literally dropping dead", in a seemingly-joking manner. There was nothing humorous about this at all.
Any diagnosis with "idiopathic" in it is an annoying one. In my case, it was idiopathic arrhythmia. An abnormality with an unknown cause.
It plagued me for the next two years. It still happens sometimes, minor episodes that can easily be stopped. As long as it doesn't escalate to the intensity it had in those crazy two years, it shouldn't be too hard to manage.
Damn PTSD triggers.
So yes, it was a necessary falsehood. There are some things that I totally feel uncomfortable talking about with people I'm not really close to, and this is one of them. It's too personal, and even now, I'm barely even scratching the surface in this post.
Note to self: Be careful what you share next time. Questions can kill you.
The hasty answer I'd given--stress and exhaustion--was too simple, too vague and completely false.
PTSD triggers here.
What actually happened was this: Night out was over. My turn to be dropped off. The brothers thought I'd fallen asleep on the way home. As always, one would accompany me all the way to the elevator of my apartment--but that didn't happen. They couldn't wake me up. Not that I have been drinking myself senseless--the cocktails I had were all virgin. Yet I was unresponsive.
I woke up in the ER gagging on an OPA.
I did mention something to the boss about "almost literally dropping dead", in a seemingly-joking manner. There was nothing humorous about this at all.
Any diagnosis with "idiopathic" in it is an annoying one. In my case, it was idiopathic arrhythmia. An abnormality with an unknown cause.
It plagued me for the next two years. It still happens sometimes, minor episodes that can easily be stopped. As long as it doesn't escalate to the intensity it had in those crazy two years, it shouldn't be too hard to manage.
Damn PTSD triggers.
So yes, it was a necessary falsehood. There are some things that I totally feel uncomfortable talking about with people I'm not really close to, and this is one of them. It's too personal, and even now, I'm barely even scratching the surface in this post.
Note to self: Be careful what you share next time. Questions can kill you.
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