Blog 3: The Diagnosis (Part 2)

Life of A

Have you even had to tell a parent that their daughter has been admitted to hospital? My brother hadn’t; until know. He worked up the courage to call our parents after I’d already been in hospital for a night. I can only imagine the panic and shock that phone call would have set upon them. They live in a coastal city about an hours drive away from the hospital and of course, they came straight away.

“What’s your name?”

“What’s today’s date?”

“What’s your date of birth?”

“Who’s Australia’s Prime Minister?”

These routine questions had me confused and scratching my head. I would answer these wrong for months. My head was muddy.

I spent my day sitting silently in a chair in my room, fidgeting with the I.V. in right arm and the GPS tracker on my other arm. Evidently I had attempted to escape. The walls felt as if…

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