Notes from a Hospital ward

As it is 4am here in hospital world it seems perfectly normal that we are all wide awake and sitting up in bed drinking tea .

Now I need to set the record straight, Mr Staples is in fact a Mrs. Nothing is quite as it seems when you

have been gulping down morphine with your PG tips and hob nobs
My introduction to morphine was mixed. While friends went a bit misty eyed and looked a bit envious at the thought, for me it wasn’t quite the golden experience I had anticipated. it did however give great cause for a lot of sniggering around me. When Tashi rang to tell me her ( brilliant) MA results, instead of saying “Well done” it came out as “Thank You very much”. Later on I apparently asked if I had indeed shot Justin , I do know a few Justins but bear none of them any ill will so I can only apologise.
I escaped a trip to the torture chamber (ear clinic) yesterday morning, a fact so very pleasing that it outweighed the news that I have to stay here until at least Monday. Even the nurse drawing an outline of the swelling on my face in black indelible pen, thus rendering me unsuitable for public viewing anytime soon did nothing to diminish my joy at not having to go upstairs and sit there while having a long needle like torture implement was wiggled about inside my ear. Basically the doctor took one look at it and said he couldn’t possibly do anything until the swelling had gone down. Or maybe he had read the notes about the deranged weeping deaf woman in bed 14 and decided it was better to leave the pleasure of my company to somebody else’s shift. Either way it was a triumph this end
These nurses are extraordinary.Resiliently cheerful, calm and reassuring throughout the long days and even longer nights. They have already been in 3 times to change the bedding 2 beds up .And here they are, the salt of the earth, the people who look after us when we are at our most vulnerable, in pain, away from home, frightened, and yet some politicians seem to think this country would be better off without the NHS..
Last night after all the visitors had gone, the nurses pulled back all the curtains round our beds so that the 6 bed ward became one large room. Initially I felt a bit territorial , well not territorial quite, but a bit as if my privacy had been invaded. But then I was reminded of something I heard on the radio from somebody who worked in a care home in particular looking after patients with dementia. She said that at dusk , human beings ( and animals ) have a natural urge to go home. to nest for the night, to re group, to settle. This struck me as incredibly moving, particularly in a group of people who have mostly lost track of time and place in the every day sense, but it is still within. A bit like when Mole needs to find his home in Wind in the Willows. Anyway, last night something very wonderful happened. We came, blinking out of our own curtained cocoons and sat on each others beds and talked. I cannot believe the ghastly procedures that each and everyone has been through. making my troubles pale into insignificance. I was talking to a lovely young woman who has been in and out of hospital with mouth cancer.Without wishing to go into the details, during her latest operation the surgeons replaced the roof of her mouth with skin grafts from her ankle. She can now swallow properly for the first time in 2 years. She stated quite simply that they had saved her life.
Obviously everything is relative. Im not going to pretend that ear infections are fun. Incredibly painful doesn’t really do it justice, But I count my blessings and will never ever underestimate what others go through on a daily basis.
And those of you who know me well will know that I must be getting back to normal because I have actually just raided the emergency cheese supply in my cupboard. I need to emphasise that it was a very small yet highly satisfying portion. and at 5.28am I can think of no better start to the day. Well. yes I can actually but we work with what we have at the time
Hares and rabbits everyone, Cant believe its November