New Year.

 31 January 2012

            My New Year’s Eve was spent back home in Michigan in a little city called Kalamazoo.  In a previous lifetime, I dwelled amongst Kalamazoo’s tree-lined streets, old beautiful homes and surprisingly liberal attitude for about 5 years.  It is the place where I finished my undergraduate degree, still have many great friends, and danced my ass off to some of the best DJs between Detroit and Chicago almost every night.  Ouzos was the place we most regularly went to get lifted on the dance floor.  On New Year’s Eve, Ouzos brought it back like it was 2006 and I had the pleasure to head to the spot with some of the most beautiful women Kzoo has ever held.  Walking up the often travelled sidewalk, I immediately knew how on-point the evening would be when Chris, my favorite door guy, was working his usual spot (letting me breeze past the line and in the door for free – just like old times).  This was the first time in years that Ouzos removed its restaurant interiors to become the dance floor we all used to cherish every Saturday night.    

            With an outsider’s first impression of Ouzos, they may conclude it is a simple, small lounge with a fancy, decorative bar and a gorgeous copper ceiling.  To an insider, walking through that huge wooden windowed door is like walking through the gateway to paradise.  The people you love will be there.  The house music quickly beats back worries and sends them straight back out the door.  The dancers’ rhythm shares a groove of connection and happiness.  It is my heaven.

            On New Year’s Eve, I danced amongst my people for hours (even Tyrone showed up!) until 4am hit, the dance floor emptied and my aching knees told me it was time to chill.  And this I did, sitting back with J Lunatic and Sierra while Felix dropped some Bob Marley in the mix.  It was a perfect end to a perfect night while also being a perfect beginning to a new year.    

            I once heard that whatever a person is doing when the New Year strikes will be how their next year will be spent.  If I want to see the truth in this, my 2012 will be spent amongst good friends in heavenly situations working it on the dance floor of life.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The end of the night - thanks for getting this picture Sean!

Prison.

 13 January 2012

                Here I am in the first few days of 2012 and finally it is time to share my thoughts on being hospitalized in November.  I have nothing bad to say about the medical care available here except for those details that went against the depths of my very American nature.  For example, the doctors pissed me off in their method of treatment because it did not involve me in my treatment plan at all.  This left me subject to sudden random transport to various parts of the hospital for CT scans, eye exams, EEGs and other tests that were never mentioned to me before the moment of being scooped up to head out the door.  Another example is the duration of the hospital stay in a shared room with 5 other non-English speaking patients (duration being the primary reason I refer to it as prison).  I was in the hospital for 2 weeks.  In an American hospital, I would at most have been kept one to two days for observation and scheduled for outpatient follow-up tests.  My Austrian friends and colleagues did not understand why I was so distraught with the doctor’s refusal to allow me to go home.  They explained it is the norm in Austria to remain in the hospital until you are completely better. 

I am sure you can picture it: me with limited German language skills, unable to communicate well with the 5 other patients I shared a room with nor the nurses and doctors.  Being woken up, fed and put to bed on a regimented schedule that was reminiscent of a horror movie psych ward.  Feeling terrified not knowing what was going to happen to me as I drifted through a surreal state of “medical care.”  I felt imprisoned there as if I was at the mercy of a parole board that held the power to decide if I was ok for release back into society.

Finally, after too many of my daily requests to be released being denied, I asked a colleague to speak with the doctor.  She is a native German speaker and within 5 minutes had the doctor frustrated and agreeing I would be released the next morning.  He was frustrated because, as I was told is common with many Austrian doctors, he did not like having his intentions questioned (this helped me understand his frustration when I attempted questioning my treatment after getting advice from my doctor back in the US).  The doctor-patient relationship here is very different than in America…so much so that I was still scared I would awake the next morning to news that I could not go home.

Upon my release from the hospital, I was starving for fun and freedom.  This lined up nicely as the end of graduate school, my birthday and a visit from my good friend Adam were approaching!  My birthday party had most of my favorite Austrian friends (plus Adam!) in attendance and was an incredibly good time!  In the following days, Adam and I went to the Opera to see Madama Butterfly, toured the Christmas markets of Vienna, and enjoyed a lovely day trip to Bratislava. 

Before, during and after Adam’s visit my quest to satisfy my raging appetite for fun was interrupted with thoughts about what led to my hospitalization and my time within its walls.  What I took from the experience (other than new nightmares) is that I must take care of myself.  I need to slow down, pay better attention to what I put into my body and do whatever is necessary to calm my mind.  Overall, my focus is on healing…I must fully grasp what it means to go beyond just getting by because there is no freedom when I am just getting by.  I can no longer accept a prison of my own making.  

The room where I spent 2 weeks of November - two more beds to my left and right as I took the picture.

Happy times! Front row for Madama Butterfly

The Belvedere Christmas Market in Vienna

Adam and I in the old city of Bratislava