There are no labels in ICU…

Before my father passed away he spent some time in the Intensive Care Unit. 

He was assigned Bed 2 of the 5 beds that were arranged in a semi circle. The other four beds were occupied but it was impossible to know who lay under the blankets their faces covered by oxygen masks – and it really did not matter if they were male, female, black, white, beautiful, ugly, old, young, gay, straight, trans, bi, Buddhist, Christian, Muslim or Jewish.

For the most part, all 5 lay very still, the only sign of life came from the constant beeping of the monitors. The night that death came for Bed 4, time seemed to freeze for a few seconds. The ICU went completely silent for a few seconds and life was suspended for a few seconds. Then life took over very quickly and the beeps immediately got louder, more insistent, more urgent, the monitor’s lights were flashing red and the medical team was at the bedside in seconds. It did not matter who lay in the bed. When you meet death, face to face, you are not a label... you are precious life.

The labelling starts when you are only 9 or 10 years old; sometimes your classmates see in you something which is ‘not normal’, and you are labeled and you feel ashamed for being different. Most times it gets worse in high school. Sometimes, most times, the labels are purposely offensive and belittling (gay, freak, fag, retard, douche, homo, loser). Sometimes you get beaten up. 

Sometimes you tell a teacher or an adult, and you get told its only banter, you need to man-up. You try to suppress who you are and pretend to be someone else. Sometimes it works. Mostly it doesn’t. 

Sometimes you hate yourself. Most times you don’t know who you are anymore. 

You feel marginalised, isolated, depressed, ashamed, you suffer from low self-esteem. You feel hopeless. 

Sometimes you find someone who is like you. Sometimes this is good, sometimes this is bad. 

You miss school to escape the bullying. Sometimes you give up on school altogether. 

Sometimes you give up on life. Sometimes the suicide attempts are a consequence of the depression that is brought on by the bullying that is started by a label.

You push through, hoping it will get better when you are 18. Sometimes it gets better.

You come ‘out’, now the world knows your secret. Sometimes there is more shame, more labels; this time from parents, siblings and grandparents. Sometimes you find yourself all alone because your family does not want you to be a part of the family.

As an adult, you can be who you want, live how you want, love who you want.  Sometimes it’s not enough. Sometimes the shame follows you. The labels follow you.

Sometimes, most times, you are defined by your sexual identity, not by who you are. 

In the end, you are and always have been a precious life.

                                     **********************************

On UnCommon Ground is a Social Enterprise I started because of the frustration and helplessness I felt watching my son go through so much suffering during his teenage years. 

The labelling of anyone who is perceived to be different needs to be stopped. 

OnUCG's exists to support those whose lives have been affected by labelling, who are passionate about living life on their own terms and who are looking to change the status quo.

Facebook: www.facebook.com/OnUCG

Twitter:     @OnUCG

  

3 Things I Discovered About Myself In 2013

1. I can love another child 

I thought and believed that I did not have the capacity to love another child like I love my boys – that unconditional, overwhelming love that can never be broken – that is, until Zak came along.

Zak was born on April 16th, 2013 and his birth automatically elevated my status to that of grandmother. I am still, 8 months later, slightly uncomfortable with the term and I know that I will have to deal with it as soon as he starts talking.

I watched Zak being born and then I held him a few minutes after he was born and in that short space of time, my heart expanded and made room for him; he now owns a huge part of my heart, just like my boys.

Being a grandmother is not what I expected at all, it is so much more ....mainly because neither Zak nor I have any expectations of each other; as grandmother and grandson our mission is to simply love each other; this makes our relationship relaxed and calm, with lots of cuddles, kisses and tickles.
My first 8 months as a grandmother have been an amazing and delightful experience. I am looking froward to lots more.

2. Losing the man that I loved all my life did not make me a stronger person  

but it did make me more appreciative of the now and being in the present. My father passed away on the 25th October, 2013 after a short battle with kidney cancer.

During the 3 months before his death, we spoke on the phone daily. When he was diagnosed in June, 2013 we talked about the options he had, either to have his kidney removed and accept the complications that were likely to follow or forgo the surgery and take pain killers.

My father, who was 80 years old, belonged to the generation that believed in suffering in silence and did not make a fuss about pain. He also did not believe in taking medicine, the strongest meds he was likely to take were aspirin.