Hospital log #4

16 February at 11:56 Facebook update·

7am this morning it was "Get up Mummy" and from then on regular announcements of "the nurse will put me in the green chair."  Then at about 8.30 "I need a poo!".  At which the nurses brought in the rotunda (sackbarrow-for-people according to Fester) and commode, and decided to wash and change him for the day.  

He's quite content with tv, tablet (non-medical) and Guardian tv guide.  Every now and again we get "I was very brave last week" and "I had an accident at The City Farm last Friday" and "When are we going home?"

I only wish I knew.

16 February at 12:38 · Facebook update

I have just eaten all 6 of cousin Daisy's cheese scones (with butter) and a bag of Valentine milk chocolate brazils, so feel a little sick!

Mrs Banjoman Stress does that to you. Mega munchies.....

Miss Doozer Medicinal x

Mrs Quilt Easily done, pity the warning queasiness doesn't cut in sooner - still you're entitled to whatever indulgence comes your way!

MONDAY 17^TH FEBRUARY

For the first two nights I slept on the reclining chair.   

No good for someone who habitually sleeps on their stomach.   

Then I filched four pillows, blankets and a pair of sheets and made myself a next on the floor.   

Much better.   

On a trip home I picked up the bag containing my yoga mat (and for some mysterious reason an orange checked apron).  That helped, and I was able to do some yoga in the morning to loosen my back up.

Then at midnight last night I heard a terrific rumbling in the corridor and the cubicle door clashed open.

“I don’t think you’ll mind me waking you up for this” says Nurse.

It was a foldy-out bed-chair.

Oh the bliss of lying flat 2ft above the floor.  To be able to lie on your side, front or back.  And I still have the yoga mat for morning warm ups.

TUESDAY 18^TH FEBRUARY

I had just got off the phone to Fester, he’d been told the commode and rotunda would be delivered tomorrow and the OT would visit to do a safety assessment.  I turned around and there was Thunderthighs standing in the doorway.   

It was a delight to see him and I flung my arms around him in a long long hug.  His work experience day had been cancelled because the car taking them to the job had been in a crash and written off.  So he’s decided to come in and see us on his way home.  It’s the first time he’s come in on his own.  Previously he’s come in with his Dad and then gone home with me or him.  Or come from college and met up with Fester here.

I told him how close we were getting to coming home and that maybe we should light a candle for it.

“I wanted to light a candle on Sunday for Ferretfingers’s operation, but there was a service on so I couldn’t go into the church.”

I was so touched.

When he left I told him I loved and missed him.

“I’ve missed you too” in a gruff little voice.

Then he was gone and I was overwhelmed.

He’s seen me light candles for Mum, Dad, poorly family, ailing friends and others in so many different churches and cathedrals over the years.  But I had no idea he’d noticed or absorbed anything: that I had actually managed to give him a way to ask for help; to give him any sort of spirituality.  Or that he was actually so sweet and caring and loving.

I shut the door, went to the window and put my hankie over my mouth while I wept.  Hoping that Ferretfingers and the nurses wouldn’t notice I was upset.  Because how could I explain I was floored by kindness not cruelty.

Eventually I blew my nose, wiped my eyes and washed my face several times with a cold flannel.  Even so there were a couple of “Are you ok?”s and offers of coffee.

LATER THAT DAY

On my visit home this afternoon I attacked the living room.   

Fester had shifted most of the furniture and lifted most of the mats but left a load of muck from underneath them.  I took up, rolled and stashed the remaining mats.  Took out the dead flower arrangements.  Swept all the floors to the kitchen and brushed up and binned all the muck.  Found the laminate flooring cleanser and made it up in a bucket.  Found the new mophead and mopped the living room and hall.  

Then had a much needed shower.

I’d just wrapped a bathsheet around my chest and a towel over my shoulders when there was a hammering at the front door.  Nothing to do but go down and there was an amused looking delivery man.

“Imma sorry I forgotta da milk” he said in an Italian accent, handing me a flower box.

I didn’t have my glasses on and must have looked blank; we’re usually taking in parcels for next door.

“It’sa for number 13” he confirmed before waltzing off to his van.

It was a lovely bunch of flowers from Dr E (ex-uni-flatmate) on the Isle of Wight.

Then Thunderthighs appeared from the loft with a “What?”

I made him get me a vase from the delft rack and put the flowers in it and onto the mantelpiece.

Then called for a taxi back to the hospital.

Hadricksmill Road is closed off South Gosforth so the taxi driver took the road up to Gosforth and then the first left, and other lefts and rights through the back street.  He brought us out onto an empty Hadricksmill Road with almost no traffic back to the city centre.  It was Sunday traffic on a Tuesday afternoon.