Things I Learned About Myself While in Bed Jail™

Content Note: Mentions of chronic illness, medical environments, anxiety, depression, and grief.

Welcome Back to the Cryptid’s Den

Welcome back to The Crippled Cryptid, where disability, chronic illness, service dogs, and everyday sorcery gather under the same mountain of blankets like Blanket Gremlins™ terrorizing our partners for more snacks and whining that we’re almost done binge-watching our latest favorite show.

If you’re new here: hi, I’m Sky.
Professional cryptid.
Unwilling amateur cyborg.
Medically interesting enough to make half my providers sigh when they open my chart. Truthfully, I sigh too. Then I roll my eyes.

Some days, I also want to roll over their toes with my wheelchair. For morale. We’ll call it team building.

I live in a haunted meat suit with a highly questionable, definitely expired warranty. If you remember Chucky melting in hot plastic like it was acid at the Good Guy factory, congratulations. That’s the energy in this house this week. Haunted doll energy is never a good vibe.

Returning readers, welcome home.
New cryptids, welcome to the Lunatic Café.

On today’s menu:
Things I Learned About Myself While in Bed Jail™

Fitting, seeing as it’s officially day two of being stuck with a continuous six-day heart monitor.

Being Stuck in Bed

Being stuck in bed is a strange cocktail of frustrating, boring, and unexpectedly illuminating. While I’ve been down here, likely plotting my escape, I’ve noticed a few things about myself.

And no, I promise I won’t be generic and tell you “I want to leave.”
But I totally do.

Sometimes, hours stretch like taffy and shrink like sugar crystals, and somehow, in between, I’m still me.

1. I’m Surprisingly Patient

M&M is either laughing or rolling her eyes at this statement, but it’s true.

If you knew me when I was younger, you’d know that as a hospital patient I once rolled my IV pole into the hallway and disconnected it from my arm because they left it screaming in my room for over an hour and a half after my IV antibiotics were done. They kept turning off my call light.

They tried saying the nurse was busy, but we caught her flirting with someone in the hallway. That does not equal busy.

In my defense, it was giving me a headache.

So yes, patience was not always my strongest stat.
Some days, it still isn’t.

And yet, here I am. I’m still trying.

Even on the days where time feels like it’s moving slower than molasses on a cold day, I’ve learned that I can wait. For hours. And survive.

Sometimes waiting is the only thing I can do. In a doctor’s waiting room. On hold with a nurse. Staring at the ceiling while my body decides what it’s doing today.

If I can do that, I figure I can wait in Bed Jail™ too. At least I have Luna and a very carefully curated watchlist. And when the watchlist fails, I have my iPad, my cellphone, and the TikTok FYP to scroll through. Occasionally, I knock over the heart monitor wires in my attempt to reach snacks- but Luna immediately corrects my chaos with a pointed boop or dramatic flop.

2. My Imagination Goes Rogue

When the outside world is out of reach, my brain fills the gap.

It starts creating small adventures for Luna, Bear, and me. Even if Bear isn’t here anymore.

Sometimes there are dragons. Sometimes M&M shows up. There are always snacks. No exceptions.

Bed Jail™ is also where anxiety and overthinking are given far too much freedom. Nightmares creep in. My thoughts loop. I get restless over things I cannot change.

This isn’t somewhere I want to be, or something I particularly want to talk about, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Especially for people like me. That’s why I want to bring light to it. Bad things hide in the shadows, and it’s our job to shine flashlights into the corners and scare them out. Right? Right.

And depression hits harder here, especially when there’s nothing to distract me. That’s why the watchlist matters. It isn’t background noise. It’s survival scaffolding.

3. I Appreciate the Small Victories

Flipping the pillow just right.
Drinking water.
Taking meds on time.
Eating even though Keppra has absolutely stolen my appetite.

Or beating the pillow into submission, which honestly feels more accurate.

You’d think that with the number of pillows on this bed, comfort would be easy. It is not.

Luna curling up beside me.
Or snoozing on my legs with exactly the right amount of pressure.

When movement is limited, these moments feel monumental.

4. Gratitude Sneaks In Quietly

I notice things I didn’t before.

Or maybe “notice” isn’t the right word. Maybe I appreciate them more. Or I say it out loud more than I used to.

The way M&M asks if I’m okay. If I need anything from the kitchen. If I’ve taken my meds. If there’s anything she can do or get for me.

The clean smell of fresh sheets.
The light through the window.
The way Luna’s ears twitch when she dreams.

Sometimes I wonder if she’s dreaming of Bear.

5. I Can Still Create

This one is big. Bigger than most people realize.

Just because my body slows down doesn’t mean my brain does. Even from bed, I can write. I can plan. I can share little pockets of magic with you.

My hands might shake. They might get tired. I might get frustrated with myself.

But I can keep going.

Closing Thoughts

Bed Jail™ isn’t glamorous, but it’s teaching me that resilience doesn’t always look dramatic. Sometimes it looks cozy, strange, and full of tiny revelations.

I still hope for a day when Bed Jail™ doesn’t have a reserved cell waiting for me. But while it does, I’m grateful for my support system.

For M&M, who makes sure I have water or something fizzy while we watch our shows. Who bullies me into eating and taking meds on time.

For Luna, with her alerts, cold nose, and boops. Even when she’s off duty, her puppy nonsense makes everything feel lighter.

For the Yard Yeti, because BJ is a good little brother, even if he’s too loud while gaming at night. Who makes the best tater tots, and when you need him to, is always there with a 3am grilled cheese.

For Aunt Lise, who might be in Winnipeg but is still only a phone call away. Whether she’s helping us talk through something heavy, discussing coffee, offering recipe advice, or just making us smile, she always knows how to make the day better.

To all the other cryptids stuck in Bed Jail™ or wrestling their haunted meat suits- hi, I see you, I feel you, and we’re in this strange little magic together.

I’m lucky to have all of them.

Love you. Now say it back.

– Sky

© The Crippled Cryptid
Disability, honesty, and a little chaos.
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