The $1-million Hot Docs-Blue Ice Group Documentary Fund helps enable more African documentary filmmakers to tell their own stories and contribute to a new generation of the African documentary community.
Hawaii's Film Industry MultiCultural Social Lab
As I awake my eyes fall on the wheelchair that is at the foot of the bed...oh yes; for just a very brief moment I have forgotten... the chair belongs to me.
My mind wonders back to the events that have shaped what is now my life. People tell me I should write a book about it due to the outrageous and almost unbelieveable events that took place. Could such injustice and downright cruelty happen to a person...how do I begin; where do I start...then I remember the caregiver...the women who was suppose to be taking care of me after the surgery that had rendered me in the wheelchair.
It was suppose to be only temporary; once the back infection that had shocked my back cleared I would get back on my feet... then I feel the sting of her open hand across my face and I am helpless. I look up... she keeps hitting me as I lay in the bed. I'm crying, I have my arms up to deflect the punches. I don't know how I know to block the punches so well...you see I have amnesia. No one knows I have amnesia because the doctors say I have Alzheimer's...outrageious I know...a 55 year old outer island female whose very own doctors when questioned on my mental conditon told the doctors at Queen's that I was in good mental health.
She stops hiitting me and starts to put duct tape on the diaper I have on, she's encircling my waist with the tape. Why do I have a diaper on? I am completely continent but no one believes me. You see in the hospital it was easier for the nurses to put me in a diaper then to toilet me... but we'll get to that.
All of a sudden the caregiver is at my bedside...she's holding the phone and telling me it's my mother...my mother? I take the phone and I hear my name and suddenly my memories start surging back. I have continuous mental images for 2 second intervals and it's my life. My memory is coming back like choppy short videos! My mother's voice was the trigger but now it's 2 videos as I glance up and see the caregiver... In my mind one side are the memories that my mother's voice is bringing up and the other side are memories of the caregiver who is standing directly over me...images of her stuffing stool soaked rags down my throat, the hitting, the...I don't feel so good and I am coming to a stark realalization that I'm in real trouble. You see... I'm an RN and realize I am in grave danger. There is a psychotic caregiver standing over me... I'm her private pay meal ticket. This is not good.
I can't let her know I have regained all my memory. To say I was in fear for my life would be an understatement. I end the call and the caregiver casually asks me how much of my memory has come back.