Guarding the mind

Ayoposi Ojelabi

I am sick, but I never allowed my mind to become sick.

During a long illness and prolonged hospitalisation, many things begin to change. The body weakens. Independence becomes uncertain. Decisions that were once simple require effort and attention. In all of this, one thing must be guarded carefully: the mind.

The most serious loss is not always physical strength. Sometimes it is the loss of the ability to make decisions for yourself.

Depression can happen in these situations. It happened to me.

Did I become depressed?
Did I ever have suicidal thoughts?

Yes and yes.

There were moments when I did not want to see another morning. I asked repeatedly for morphine, sometimes even when the pain did not fully require it, because I did not want to remain awake. It felt easier to sleep than to experience night turning into morning and evening returning again to night.

But something still kept me alive.

My wife and my daughter.

Support is different for everyone. Some people are surrounded by many helpers. Others have only a few. Whatever support you have, it is important to recognise its value.

One reason I strongly encourage patients to guard their minds is this: you need to remain part of the decisions made about your care.

When you are documented as not having the capacity to make decisions, you enter another kind of difficulty. Medical teams often provide careful and responsible support for patients without capacity. But when you still have your capacity, you can raise concerns. You can ask questions. You can remain involved in your direction.

To me, losing decision-making capacity because of avoidable depression can feel similar to losing a form of independence. Regaining that capacity after it has been removed is not always guaranteed.

At one stage, I had to find small ways to protect my mind.

I watched films. I distracted myself. Even when there was little certainty about improvement, I kept telling myself that things would be well.

Social media helped too. Even short, simple videos helped create distance from the situation I was in. Sometimes distraction is not weakness. Sometimes it is protection.

Today I am not fully recovered, but the suicidal thoughts and the deepest depression are no longer present.

During my hospital stay, I saw many patients without decision-making capacity. They were not treated badly. They were cared for with attention and effort. But a patient who still has capacity can raise concerns, ask questions, and remain involved in decisions. To me, that ability remains part of the path back toward independence.

A prolonged hospital stay is difficult for anyone. Yet even in that situation, it is important to find the smallest possible reason to continue.

I am not writing from a place of complete recovery, but from a place where I know recovery is possible.

This reflection sits alongside the experiences described in Through Fire and Silence, where the physical realities of illness and hospitalisation are examined in more detail.