Dusty Wentworth

  I did not set out to become a writer. In October 2023, I was admitted to hospital. As with many long admissions, time became distorted. Days blurred into one another, routines were imposed, and the sense of identity I had carried for most of my life began to erode. During that admission, my occupational therapist suggested I keep a diary. It was not framed as a creative exercise, but as a practical intervention, a way to track thoughts, symptoms and emotional changes during recovery. I was sceptical, but I agreed. At first, the entries were short and functional. Notes about pain levels, fatigue, frustration and sleep. Slowly, almost without noticing, the writing changed. The diary became a place to offload emotions I could not articulate out loud. It became somewhere I could process fear, anger and grief without having to manage anyone else’s response. Writing imposed structure on chaos. It helped me make sense of what had happened to me and what was still happening. After el...