The Girl in The Hospital Bed

THE GIRL IN THE HOSPITAL BED
a true story by Anni Finsterer
drawings by Cormac Kenne
coloring by Callum Kenne
with a bit of help from by Bill Leak

Ever since I can remember, I was always asking myself
the same question….
Why is it that some people seem to cope, seem to bounce,
seem to adapt when dealing with change or an
unexpected issue; some kind of crisis or even a tragedy …
while others fall apart?
Maybe the tough stuff in life came straight to me so I
could answer my own question. Or at least investigate it.
Having not one but 2 car accidents, 23 operations and
spending many months in hospital over many years,
gave me this opportunity. It wasn’t an easy ride. Oh no.
Far from it. But it wasn’t, as I discovered, entirely free of
benefit’s.
And that is why I decided to write this book.
The first car crash I was just a school girl.

I was 17 and in my last year of High
School.
My sister and I were going out to a club.
I was a passenger.
It was late. It was wet. It was slippery on
the roads.
Suddenly, a dog ran out from the side of
the street and hurled itself into the car.
What a crazy dog!

The car spun and crashed into a tree.
I was flung forward.
My face hit the dash-board.
I broke my cheekbones and my nose.
I cracked my skull and some of the brain
fluid leaked out.

‘Careful!’ my Mum said,
when I blew my nose.
‘Don’t lose all your brain
fluid!’

The Surgeon said my
face was like a bag
of Smiths Crisps that
had been squashed.

He said he’d get
some wire to hold my
cheekbones together.
My teeth were wired
together and a steel
frame held my wonky
skull in place.

Everywhere I went,
people thought I looked
like a famous punk rock
star called Adam Ant.
Everywhere I went, I had
wire cutters in my bag,
just in case I choked.

‘Don’t forget the wire cutters.’

One day I went to see the
Surgeon for a check up.
He asked me what I wanted to
do when I left High School.
I told him I wanted to be an
actor on the stage.
The Surgeon gave a little
laugh.

I thought about that
little laugh for a long time.
Maybe the Surgeon was
right.
Maybe I wasn’t what
actors looked like.
What did actors look like?

I wondered about all the things that
could stop me from being an actor.
Maybe the Surgeon’s little laugh meant
that people with imperfections couldn’t
be actors.
Was that right?
I started to think thoughts and say words
that made me feel like I was in a little
dark box, on my own, looking at all my
imperfections with my red angry brain.

I asked questions…
Why me?
Why can’t I ever get a break?
Why does this have to happen to
someone who wants to be an actor?
Some days I could feel my mind at
work. Wow. Some days my mind
was so strong I tried to fight it.

I knew my mind had the
power to stop me from
being an actor.
I knew my mind had the
power to stop me from
doing anything at all.

My thoughts made
me tired.
My thoughts made
me want to go to
sleep.

And then – in a half dream, I
remembered something my Mum
told me from a poem she’d read.
It was something about watching;
watching your thoughts,
your words,
your questions,
your actions;
and how they become who you are.
Who Was I Becoming? I Wondered.

I thought about all the thoughts and words and
questions that were swirling around in my head.
I thought that maybe if I change these questions,
it might change how I feel,
if it changes how I feel,
it would change how I act,
if it changes how I act,
it might help me change my life.

I was stumped! I asked the questions out loud.
I asked them over and over and over and over again.
I said a prayer – Dear God, Please help me think of all the good things …

Thinking…. Thinking ….Thinking….
All this thinking was hurting my brain. Okay. ‘Time for action’, I
said. I’m going to give myself 20 seconds and I’m going to think of
10 things about what’s good in my life right now. GO!’
This is what I came up with:
1. It’s good I live in a country where we have Surgeons.
2. It’s good I didn’t lose my eyesight.
3. It’s good I can have some operations and mend.
4. It’s good I get to catch up on some sleep.
5. It’s good I still have the use of my legs.
6. It’s good I don’t have brain damage.
7. It’s good I have my Mum, my friends and family to visit me.
8. It’s good I get to daydream about being a fabulous stage
actor. Doing Shakespeare of course!
9. It’s good there are so many nice Nurses in the Hospital who
don’t mind doing my dressings and helping me shower.
10. It’s good that I’m not dead.

These things I said to myself over and over and over again.

And what I discovered was, that if you do
something often enough, like thinking a
positive thought, it can become a habit!
So I tried it out. The positive thinking, that
is. I said, ‘Okay, I’m not perfect, but maybe
that’s not as bad as I think.’
I thought, ‘Maybe people in the theatre
won’t mind imperfections that much.’
And every day, I practiced thinking this
thought.

… Do you mind?
… No. Not at all.

I decided I would do
an audition at a
drama school.
I did one of
Hamlet’s soliloquies.

They liked my Hamlet!
I was accepted.
At drama school I learnt that characters in plays,
just like people in life, have a VOTE.
V = Victory – To win your goal.
O = Obstacle – What ever is in your way.
T = Tactics – Different ways to get to your goal.
E = Expectation – To win your Victory of course!
I learnt how to express my thoughts by moving
my body into strange shapes.

Hope this comes in handy one day!

I learnt how to use my
voice so the people at
the back of the theatre
could hear me.
I learnt that this is what
makes me feel like I’m
– me!

When I finished, I got a
Bachelor of Performing Arts.
I didn’t know where to look
for jobs, so instead I looked
for an agent.

I got a job doing a play in the theatre.
But before I could win a Helpmann award for
my brilliant acting –
You’ll never guess what happened.
I had another car accident!
This time, it was worse.
We were in the countryside. Four of us were
travelling from Perth to Sydney when the
driver fell asleep at the wheel. We veered off
the road onto the gravel and the car rolled
over and over and over again.

Firstly I’d like to thank the Director….

My body collided with the gravel on the
road.
I smashed my wrist and all my finger bones
in my hand.
I scraped off the skin and the tissue from off
my hand
from off my other hand
from off half of my head
from off my back
and half of my ear…

Talk about keeping your ear to the ground!

We waited on the side
of a long and lonely
road for someone to
drive past.
We waited a long, long
time.

Finally someone did.
A man in a ute took us
to a little
hospital in a town called
Southern Cross where
the Flying
Doctor put us in his
helicopter.

I’m sorry Miss…But that hand’ll have to be amputated.

Here I was again.
In a hospital bed,
but this time with
no hand.

Oh, hang on. I do have a hand. At least I think I do.

I lifted up the sheet and had a look. There it was. My
hand, sore and swollen, with a big patch of skin and tissue
stitched on that they’d taken from my hip.
The doctor said my hand could be ‘independent’ again if my
hand was stitched to my leg so it could get a blood supply.
I had a bandage on my right hand, a bandage on my head
and a really sore back with no skin on it.
The worst thing of all though, wasn’t my bald scalp, my
missing ear, my skinless, broken hands or my red raw ouchy
back.
The worst thing was …
That one of the boys who was in the car…
Whose name was David…
Died.

I thought about all the things that had
happened. About accidents, operations
and especially, about David. I started to
think thoughts and say words that made
me feel like I was back in that little dark
box, on my own, looking at all my
imperfections and everything that
needed to be fixed. I thought about how
long I would be here in this hospital bed;
about the acting jobs I couldn’t
audition for, about all the operations that
lay ahead. Things were not looking good.
Not looking good at all.

And then I remembered something.
I remembered what I said to myself
seven years ago when I had the first
accident; that if you do something
often enough, like thinking a positive
thought, that it becomes a habit.
I remembered how I crossed out all
my helpless questions and changed
them into helpful ones. How I
thought the thoughts, said the words
and asked the questions over and
over and over again.

I wondered if I was going to
be able to do that again.
I prayed to St Jude (he’s the
go-to Saint boy for tough
cases…)
Dear St Jude, I’ve fallen
down again. I don’t know
how to get back up. Please
help me …

Then one day, my Mum gave me a poem by Ralph
Waldo Emerson, the same one she had once told me
about.
“Watch your thoughts. They become words. Watch your
words. They become deeds. Watch your deeds. They
become habits. Watch your habits. They become
character. Character is everything.”
Thoughts
Words
Deeds
Actions
Habits
Character

Okay Ralph Waldo, I get you. Plan of
action required.
This time, I’m not just going to think of
good things to think. I’m going to think
of good things to do as well.
Maybe it will help me get out of my
hospital bed, out, into the world, into my
life, doing the things I’ve been dreaming
about for so long.
Here’s what I came up with –

1. Every day I am going to imagine that this car accident
happened a long time ago. All the operations, the pain, the
drugs, the healing, it’s all over. It’s finished. I’m okay, and I’m
walking out of the big hospital doors.
2. Every day, I am going to pretend. I’m going to
imagine I’m in a different costume every day. I’m going to
visualize the audience as the lights go down and I enter the
stage – ‘in character.’
3. I am going to fantasise that some one is filming my
life. The film is about the chutzpah (that means guts) a
certain girl brings to a frustrating and painful situation. It
rates through the roof. She inspires millions.
4. I am going to relax. I am going to relax by breathing,
visualising the air entering my body, bringing with it only
good thoughts. It travels down to my diaphragm, swirls
around and then out it goes again, taking all the crummy
thoughts with it.

5. I am going to believe that this car accident was sent to
me to make me stronger, not weaker.
6. I am going to wake up and notice my feelings. If I feel
like a failure; like a weak, injured loser wasting her life in a
hospital bed, there’s going to be a fight! I am going to
dispute, argue and bellow at this voice, until I break the
spell, kill the curse, hiss at the hex, hurl at the hypnosis...
you get the idea.
7. I am going to talk to the strong, resilient and inspiring
characters from all the plays and the novels I have read and
I’m going to see if I can match them. In fact, I am going to
see if I inspire them.

So Macbeth, next time Lady M tries to talk you into doing something murderous, stand up for yourself!
Argue the point a little stronger!

8. Every day I’m going to wrap Velcro weights around
my ankles and lift them up so that my muscles don’t get too
weak. The theory being: strong body, strong mind.
9. Every day, I’m going to live as if I have been given
‘bonus days’. This is, after all, not my second but my third
chance at life. David has lost his life. Don’t I owe it to him to
live mine like I’m lucky to be here?
Like it means something?
10. Despite everything, I’m going to choose to be happy.
I’m going to choose not to mind having imperfections. Who
knows? Maybe my new hand and I’ll even become friends.
I called my new hand friend ‘Sooty.’

ANNI: Do you want to be my friend?
SOOTY: Yep! Love to!

And then I thought of one more doing thing.
11. I’m going to call on members of my family who have gone before
me, who had a much harder time in life than me and I am going to ask
them to give me some of their strength. Why not share it around? This is
what I’ll say:
a) Dear Irish convict Great Grandfather Timothy Cusack. I know you
were hungry, that there were hardships and terrible heart ache from
missing your family back in Ireland. Please send me strength.
b) Dear German Grandmother of Munich, Oma Johanna Finsterer.
Living through that war can’t have been easy. Like seeing so much death
and destruction around you and your kids. Like thinking you would die
every day. Like throwing an ‘incendiary’ bomb out your window to save
your family. Go Oma!
P.S. Please send strength.
c) Dear Wilfrid (Bill) Michael O’Neill. You were what they call poor,
but even in the Depression, you still fed your big family, orphaned
nephews and lots of friends. You spoke to huge crowds of people to fight
for justice. What a man. And hey – Send strength?
Wow. How busy am I? That’s eleven things I have to do every day.

Sorry, things we have to do every day…

For many months and many years to come, I
looked up into the faces of Surgeons, Nurses and
Doctors. There was a list of things they had to
do to put everything back together again. They
didn’t do it all in one go, mind you, but we got
there eventually.
Here’s some of the things they did:
• They took tissue and skin from my hip and
sewed it onto my left hand.
• They stitched up my right hand.
• They put lots of skin (from off my leg) onto
my scalp and back.
• They padded out the eye socket with the
cartilage from the roof of mouth.
• They made a plastic ear and glued it onto my
ear lobe….

I’m so sorry – I seemed to have pulled off your left ear!

When that didn’t work, they shaped what looked
like half an ear out of rib cartilage and sewed it
on. How’s that for creative?
They took a sliver of bone from my scalp, and
gave it to my nose.
They replaced the tendons from my hand that
weren’t working any more with some from my
foot. (I didn’t even know we had spares!)
So that my scalp could grow hair again, (leg skin
can’t grow long hair, after all…) they popped two
flat balloons underneath my scalp and every week
they injected a little bit of fluid, gradually
stretching the balloons, until they were huge.

I hope this is worth it in the long run!

After a while, I had one of those
groovy 60’s hair do’s.
You know the bee hive? Well I
had a double bee hive!
Three months later, they pulled
the skin down and stitched it in
place. Voila - a scalp with hair!

Some time later, when I was out of my hospital bed, out,
in the world, in my life,
I was reminiscing about all the things that for so long
I’d been dreaming about.
Imagine, I said to myself: Imagine being so sure of
success that nothing could stop you.
What would you do?
What would you make happen?
I was just wondering about what I would do if there were
no chance I could fail when I had an idea.
‘I am going to raise some money, get a cast of actors
and put on a play.’
There was only one problem. Sooty didn’t feel
comfortable with the idea of everybody looking at her
on stage.

That’s alright Soot.
I’ll get my costume to hide you. I’ll pull a long black glove on and you can hibernate until the play’s over.

And so, we actors started rehearsing a play.
On the first night, at the end of the play, we all went out
to take a bow. The audience started clapping loudly and
then, someone stood up, clapping. Then somebody else
stood up. They all started standing up! I was startled in
the best possible way. There it was – the idea in my head
– right there in front of my eyes. Truly, it was
fantabulous!

Sooty and I played lots of characters in
the theatre and even though it took a
little while, eventually Sooty came out
from under the glove, appearing as
herself.
I even finally got to accept an award! An
Australian Film Institute Award for
acting.
That was one big trophy that’s for sure.
That trophy means lots of things alright.

Most of all it means that I believed
and I didn’t give up.
I gave it a red, hot go.
Not once or twice, but over and over
and over again.
Every day, I worked hard, getting
better and stronger, in my body and
in my mind.

But even now, all this time later, there
are still some days that I struggle.
Days when I feel I’m not good
enough.
Days when I panic
When I feel sad
When my thoughts are weak
My words, doubting
my questions, helpless.

On these days, I take a
step back.
On these days, I breathe.
On these days, I watch.

I tell my thoughts that they are not
the truth, even though they think
they are.
I tell my thoughts that I won’t be-
come the person they want me to be.
I tell them in a big strong voice and
I don’t stop until I drown them out,
until their voices start to die out and
fade…
And I can hear my own voice again.

Not weak and
doubting and
helpless…

The Girl in The Hospital Bed

Recommended

Recommended

More Related Content

What's hot

What's hot (17)

Recently uploaded

Recently uploaded (20)

The Girl in The Hospital Bed