72 hours

“Everything passes. Nobody gets anything for keeps. And that is how we’ve got to live” Haruki Murakami

They say that in any emergency the first 72 hours are critical, in case of an injury, in case of a rescue operation in case of an emergency earthquakes, tsunamis, fires, accidents the first 72 hours are the ones where no service can reach individual needs so you need to prepare to be on your own until then.

A cornucopia of advice out there, great instructions on how to be prepared if there is no power, no food , transport or telecommunications, how to treat an injury on those very critical 72 hours.

The first 72 hours are also important for some other more positive or hopeful events, the critical first 72 hours of a new born baby or the first 72 hours for those embarking on rehab, or trying to quit smoking. Tips on how to assess what to expect and what to look for to prevent any mistake or disasters than can risk the new project or the new life.

At 72 hours of this storm it is impossible to see what preparations precautions or signs to look for. Are we preparing to receive a new born dream? or to survive the effects of another tsunami of rejection, self doubt, hopelessness and cynicism?

Where is the advice when the unexpected shows its face in a seismic event of the heart, where the connection flows in waves electrical and powerful as the fiery lightning in the storm and the hopes and fears blow at once like winds of a hurricane, when the defences lay broken and scattered as the glass after a car crash.

When the heartbeat is as painful as the contractions inducing labour and endured with the same bravery, hope and terror, every second seems to last one hour and every cell is engaged and at this point impossible to know will it be a healthy baby or a still born? Does anyone buy a coffin on the day the water breaks? So how can you prepare?

Every second counts, every minute that passes is a mute loss of hope for help to reach those areas of the self where dreams still grow, where faith still tries and so the fight comes to a close as the patient looses blood from the wound agonises with flash backs of the event and its randomness. It couldn’t have been predicted, it couldn’t have been prevented and cannot be resolved. It can only be accepted.

Now that 72 hours have passed free to grieve its loss, to enjoy and celebrate the event, its greatness and its smallness all at once. For it was great to have had the opportunity and it feels great to be a survivor.