Being in hospital taught me to slow down, and appreciate each day

mind.org.uk:

Being admitted to an inpatient psychiatric unit for the first time at the age of 55 was certainly a learning experience.In some ways it was like a bizarre episode of the TV quiz show Countdown, where an unfamiliar set of letters are given to you (PTSD, OCD, BPD) but you can’t make any sense of them, and a series of numbers are given to you (with “mg” tacked on at the end) but they don’t seem to add up to anything you understand.“For the first time I gained a real appreciation for the skill and care of nurses, student nurses and healthcare assistants.”I heard multisyllabic words that sounded like gobbledygook and then realised not only were these the drugs I was taking, I needed to remember which ones I was taking, when I was taking them, and at which doses.For the first time, I understood the difference between a psychiatrist and a psychologist.

I gained a real appreciation for the skill and care of nurses, student nurses and healthcare assistants in our local NHS hospital.

I was cared for by the catering and housekeeping teams and kept busy by the occupational and physical therapists.Those side by side conversations over a jigsaw puzzle, or while knitting, painting or colouring in (who knew I would come to love colouring in pictures?!) were like being thrown a lifebelt and slowly being reeled back in.Being in hospital taught me to slow down, and to take and appreciate each day.