5 months and 5 days of Hospitalisation.
16/06/19.
Hopefully a much more uplifting entry than the last.
My virology count finally dropped sufficiently that I could safely leave cell 15. No face masks needed any more and I have been moved to a new room. I now live at room 5 on the Derrick Mitchell Unit, it’s brighter and bigger than cell 15, but still has a window that overlooks more brick and more windows for a 180. degree view about 7 feet away, look up or down and you’re in a kind of brick lift shaft. I am immeasurably happier in here and my mood is light years away from the dark times I’ve previously shared.
To keep my attitude positive and to prevent me losing my shit again, I have a regime/timetable that helps. 6am usually get woken for obs by an HCA and shortly after that a nurse will bring my morning meds If they’re not too busy I cadge a cuppa and read the papers on my iPad - Mail, Independent and Guardian to try and get some balance in these horrible times.
I doze after this if poss until breakfast comes at 8.30am. I have my rituals here too. Same brekkie everyday Pain au chocolat, porridge and a black coffee. I lay flat on the bed and reach across to the adjacent table to dip the Pain au chocolat in the black coffee, bikkie style then aim to take glorious soggy bites without it falling on my face. This is followed by porridge with honey eaten slowly. I’ll sometimes have a slurp of the coffee but it’s main use is as dipping sauce really.
At 9.30am ish every morning a nurse will come into my room, arms overflowing with fresh bed linen, blankets, pillow cases and most importantly - towels. This is the signal for another part of my daily ritual to begin. Probably my favourite part - it’s me away to the bathroom to undress a bit awkwardly on wobblesome emu legs then take my place on the seat in the shower.
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| Not my legs - but near enough |
For the next 25-30 minutes I have that jet as hot as human skin can bear across my shoulders, on the back of my neck, on the top of my head and I mentally leave the hospital and travel home to the family I miss and love so dearly - two hours visit in some government furnished hospital room is a poor substitute for just hanging out in your own kitchen simply being and vibing with the ones you call your own.
I can even venture out into our garden to take in the wondrous views of the Sussex Weald that our little house lends. Grasp at the greens and the blues and try to keep them within me.
I may do the school run and then on the way back hitup LIDL in Bexhill for fresh baked croissant and that low GI bread they do in round loaves. All these minutiae from my old life are the tools that I bring out and use now and then when the NHS regimen starts to bring me down Bruce.
I clean my teeth in the shower, I have a shave too - putting off the moment that I have to turn off the water and let the chill outside the curtain hit my bony, fat stripped body. Dry off, fresh pjs and out to the room where the bed is all crispy fresh and military lines. I put on my thick fleeced dressing gown and sit atop the covers, reclining like there like a great big ponce.
The next piece of my schedule - 10am-1pm is time for James O’Brien on LBC. If you’ve ever listened you’ll know what I mean. Just chill, snack and sometimes doze with J’OB in the background.
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