Bertie's Hospital Blog - Part 5

After yet another bad night sleep-wise, brought on by a combination of worrying about what decision day would bring as well as a tender tummy and a poorly arm, Tuesday morning saw a lady in business suit by my bed at 8am who was apparently the administrator. She wanted to know exactly what had happened with the phlebitis as, apparently, one incidence is unusual yet there were 3 among 32 beds. She apologised profusely and I told her I wouldn’t sue but would settle for an out-of-court negotiation of either red jelly for lunch or a 24 hour period where my bowels were not mentioned. I’ve a feeling that she wasn’t quite sure how to take that!

The other early morning news was that the breakfast lady and I vaguely knew each other so I was OK for extra toast, tea etc. I was very good and ordered Flora rather than butter. That’s another thing – no jam, just orange marmalade is available. What power does the colour orange hold over the NHS? Very strange. Maybe the NHS is sponsored by EasyJet? I suppose it explains why I was only allowed a certain amount of baggage in my locker.

By 9.15, my doctor arrived. He explained that he had tried to get me on tomorrow's list but there just wasn't room so I was free to go! Within 5 minutes I was dressed and packed and by 10am I was sitting in the Discharge Lounge waiting for my meds whereupon I was free to go. The Discharge Lounge is rather nice with lovely big comfy chairs and people offering tea, coffee and posh biscuits at regular intervals. I settled down to wait and it started to fill up as more detainees were released.

What is it about older women in hospital? As soon as there was a quorum they all took great delight in discussing their symptoms, treatments and all the minutiae of the stay. I sat huddled in a corner, all sense of enjoyment long gone as I listened to the saga of Mrs Kneetrembler's infarction and Hilda's raptures about the quality of the surgical stockings supplied to her. By midday I was still there and I was offered lunch.

Now, hospital food permeating a large ward is bad enough but to have to sit in a relatively small room surrounded by it was too much to bear. I asked the desk clerk when I might expect to go and she said that there had been a slight problem with my drugs - quel surprise! I sat down once more and glumly chewed on a ham and tomato sandwich whilst listening to the decrepit old biddy next to me ordering the steamed fish as she 'really enjoyed that'. Fortunately, my meds arrived before the fish so I walked out to freedom.

The world never looked as good as the cab took me along the cliffs towards home. The sun glinted off the sea and all was right with the world. Back in familiar surroundings, I suddenly realised just how tired I was so, after a cup of tea and a passing fancy for some orange jelly, I fell into bed and slipped into a blissful 3 hours of sleep.

As I sit here typing the final few words of this blog, the last 5 days seem a distant memory. The body feels fairly reasonable, I've watched Liverpool play (and win!) and nobody has questioned the state of my bowels for over 12 hours.

Despite my somewhat cynical observations, a lot of hospital people have worked hard to help me during this time. My thanks go to all of them as well as the loved ones and friends, both near and far, who have wished me well, worried for me and kept my spirits high. You know who you are - bless you all.