Where It's Christmas Every Morning

On the 22nd of November 2021, I fell off my bike and landed in the hospital. It's taken me sixty-seven years to make that trip, having never spent more than the odd night in a hospital. I guess that means I have had a blessed life. I certainly didn't feel very blessed as I lay writhing on the wet tarmac the afternoon I fell. I was in so much pain I couldn't even find the energy to curse myself with anger. It is only now I can sit and look back at what happened.

I don't exactly remember the fall. One moment I am happily riding along and in less than a second I am on the ground on my left side. I do not actually have any recollection of any type of falling sensation, it all happened so quickly. And although I knew I had seriously injured myself, I never for one moment thought how seriously or how long it would take me to get back on my feet.

I spent the first month at a university hospital where I went to hell and back. My lungs collapsed and I got pneumonia. My bowels also stopped working. I ended up on oxygen in an attempt to re-inflate my lungs and was put on all manner of drugs to deal with the pain and the problems arising from the accident. At one point I was ambulanced across Japan to a hospital that specialised in hip surgery. However, they took the decision not to operate due to the complicated nature of the fracture and the danger of operating. And so I was ambulanced all the way back to the first hospital. They had been advised that surgery was out of the question and that rehabilitation was the solution. The problem was that the local rehab hospital didn't have any bedside oxygen facilities and so couldn't take me until I had been weaned off the oxygen. In short, I became an orphan patient, nobody wanted me.

Eventually, I came off the oxygen and was transported to the rehab hospital in a wheelchair in a specially adapted minibus. And it was on that short journey, from an upright position, I could see we were passing a love hotel called the Christmas Chapel Hotel. That turned out to be some sort of omen for what was to come.

Within a short time, I was comfortably ensconced in what would be my new home for the next two to three months. I have to tell you I was quite depressed at that prospect, but I really wasn't in any position to do anything about it. It was Hobson's choice as they say.

I was put in a two-patient room with a view and settled in with surprising speed. Every morning a lovely boisterous nurse would come down the corridor calling out what sounded like "Christmas"! A few moments later she came into my room with two hot cups of tea and a hot towel. I later learned what she was calling out in Japanese was "Can I come in"? at every room she passed along the first-floor corridor. The tea was followed by breakfast, help to get dressed for the day, a day which might include X-rays, blood tests and an echograph on my heart. And that was just the beginning. The rest of the day was taken up with hourly workouts in a specially equipped gym and lunch and dinner.

My roommate was a lovely old man of about 80 who despite his loveliness has one or two very strange nocturnal habits. He often woke me up in the early hours moving around with no seeming purpose. Finally, one night my eyes dropped to the bottom of the curtain separating us. The strange noise was explained by the fact that for whatever obscure reason he was wearing two empty Kleenex tissue boxes on his feet like slippers and walking in circles around his side of the room. What on earth that was all about I still do not know.

I got up and made my way to the nurse station. "Excuse me, nurse...." I said, ".....my roommate is acting rather strange." The nurse looked at me puzzled, until I mentioned the Kleenex boxes, when her look changed to a knowing smile."Oh yes, we know all about that, but we don't know why he does it. Anyway, no worries you can go back to sleep." I was not at all comforted by her answer.

"Ok, here's the thing, if this guy is crazy enough to believe that those boxes are slippers lord knows what he thinks I am lying close by. I mean, I don't want to sound over dramatic, but if he sees me and thinks I am some sort of long slimy serpent maybe he will draw something to kill me with. Can you please check under his pillow for knives?" Two nurses went to check my man out and came back to report that I was safe. I have to say, it was behaviour I found disturbing until the day I left. You can't be too careful huh?

Despite my initial depression at the prospect of two months in that place I came to love it there up to a point. The entire staff were amazingly caring and kind. Twice a week I was wheel-chaired to the bathroom and lay on a plastic waterproof stretcher. From there a bevvy of lovely nurses showered me with hot water and body gel, getting into every nook and cranny of my pathetic body without a second thought. Indeed, those lovely ladies did their job with sympathy and with wonderful good humour and affection.

At Christmas, knowing I am of a Christian culture the nurses hand-made me Christmas cards and gave me a fantastic Western world Christmas meal. It was that kind of attention to personal detail that made me fall in love with those people. When it came the time for me to leave they actually made me a discharge meal you would pay a small fortune for in a good restaurant. I have to say it was a wrench to leave. However, I missed my life at home, my lovely wife, who I was not permitted to have any physical contact with for three months, and home food.

As I sat in the carpark below about to leave, I looked up to see Toshi, one of my carers and one of the most lovely women you could ever wish to meet. She stood at the dining room window looking down at me with a tear in her eye waving me goodbye. My wife and I waved back and blew her kisses. I hope her lucky husband loves and appreciates her as she deserves.

And so here I am, back at home and over the moon to have got through the ordeal. I have to say, without Toshi and her colleagues, it would have been hell to get through. And now looking back, maybe I was meant to have that accident in order to realise what wonderful people there really are in this life. People who dedicate themselves to helping others to get better, not to become super rich and famous, simply for the satisfaction of what they do.

Of course, it's not a good idea to fall and fracture a hip, but if you do, I can think of no better place to do it than here in Japan where they make you feel like it's Christmas every morning.