Well, OK – the Co-Codamol tablets were just to get me through rehearsals; they’re not a solution. Colitis is a chronic (longterm) condition that can flare totally randomly, so, when it does, you have to hit it with steroids. And the Preds I’d been taking were not working fast enough for my liking; so, after the last rehearsal of the week (and I’d got back into my clothes) it was straight into hospital for me.
A bit of waiting in A&E (fortunately early evening before the alcohol and drug and random-violence victims) then into Acute Med – 6 beds – two of them double and reinforced for seriously morbidly obese patients (nb. I am not one.)
Curtains drawn back on my left – Ron’s sitting in the chair. Speaking slowly he tells me how he fell in the garden on his way to get the Flymo. He couldn’t get up and lay there for sixteen hours – in the garden, overnight. ‘It didn’t rain’. Happened before. Lives alone. Couldn’t get up.
(I’m tempted to say sweet) Loretta the nurse – full on, total attention almost to everyone at the same time, upbeat, dynamic, funny. A whirlwind of great, caring energy. Mike the nurse – tattooed bearded South Londoner, shock of upstanding hair, very friendly. We talk books briefly, and films at the Duke Of York’s.
Max has a ring tone that is a screaming horror thing that you really don’t want to hear in a hospital…
If It's Munday... 