Moments of light during the darkest times: Andrea’s story

When Andrea was admitted to hospital with a serious injury she was faced with the prospect of weeks away from loved ones. Here, Andrea shares her experience.

I’m no stranger to hospitals, but I will never forget my most recent stay. I was in hospital for three weeks – dealing with a burn I hadn’t realised was serious at first. I had been using a hot water bottle to ease some pain when it exploded.

I have secondary progressive MS, and limited sensation on the side I was burnt on, so I couldn’t really feel it and even if I had, I wouldn’t have been able to move away. I didn’t twig how bad it was until I was taken to the Burns Unit and told “You really need to stay here.”

Early on in my stay, the hospital staff mentioned MediCinema to me. I was in a chemical fog of gas and air and morphine – barely able to think let alone imagine going to a cinema in a hospital. But the days went on and the staff kept bringing it up. “I don’t want to be a hassle,” I’d say. “It’s not for me.”

On top of that, I was scared about what was going to happen next with my treatment, and my husband was two and a half hours away, juggling work and caring for our dog, so I was alone during the week. It was a dark time for me.

But one afternoon, when I was told what film would be showing that evening – something brand new, something I’d heard of and really wanted to see – I opened myself up to the possibility of going. I was still apprehensive, but my nurses kept reassuring me about every concern I had. What if my catheter stops draining? What if I need to leave? They explained that there would be nurses at the screening and that I could come back to the ward at any time.

That was the clincher. I thought: “If it really goes to hell, I can always come back.” I needn’t have worried.

The MediCinema experience exceeded every expectation I didn’t even know I had. For the first time in a long while, I felt seen. That’s not something I experience in my day-to-day life. MediCinema made me feel like a person – a person deserving of moments of joy like these.

A couple of volunteers wheeled me down to the screening in my hospital bed and we chatted about films on the way. It wasn’t until afterwards that I realised we didn’t once speak about my treatment, or the hospital. The medical setting around me just sort of disappeared and I could be ordinary for a little while. You can’t put a price on that.

Everything was taken care of. I was able to go the screening in my hospital bed and I even though I did end up having a problem with my catheter, I was well-looked after; I didn’t even have to call anyone over – the nurse noticed before I did and was there to help me before I knew it. It was like she was a safety net, ready and waiting to catch me in case I did have a problem. The weight of my worries was taken from me.

I can’t express how empowered I felt after that screening. It felt like I had achieved something. I had done something – something that a non-disabled person often takes for granted. That experience shifted something in me. It made me realise that maybe it’s worth pushing myself more often. That giving something a go, even when it feels daunting, might be worth it, because it can lead to beautiful, unexpected moments.

I’m likely going to have a scar on my leg forever. It’s strange, but now when I look at it, I don’t think about the pain. I think about the amazing hospital staff and the MediCinema and the film I watched that night. That’s what sticks with me. That’s what I’ll never forget.

The care I received during my stay in hospital was exceptional, but that night at the MediCinema gave me something extra – perspective. It reminded me that even in the darkest times, there can be moments of light.

With huge thanks to Andrea for sharing her experience with us.