Normalcy

One of the trickier aspects of encountering a serious medical issue is regaining normalcy once it has passed.  There's the recovery from whatever physical insult has occurred, as well as the restoration of functions that have been impeded by whatever medications were necessary.  Even matters as previously routine as eating and digestion have been momentarily interrupted and require time to normalize again. Then there are the mental housekeeping aspects:  processing what has happened, revisiting the scary bits and coming to terms with them, adjusting future expectations about how the body will work, and making plans on how to handle matters should the same issue arise once more.

When that's all complete, there's still one area that requires attention:  the need for positive touch.

When one has been wheelchaired, gurneyed, IV'd, scanned, jabbed and poked and prodded and generally manhandled by several complete strangers during a painful medical emergency, an odd dichotomy appears in the subsequent days.  There is a need both for sufficient personal space (nobody touch me) as well as a need for non-medical, non-sexual physical comfort (somebody hold me).  One is like an overwrought hedgehog:  prickly and needy, yearning for someone to pick it up gently and encircle it protectively.  It's all right now. The worst is over. You're safe. Hush, hush. 

This wee hedgehog was found at: 

http://www.lifeinthefastlane.ca/hedgehogs-and-healing-hands-at-hospital/weird-science