Yesterday afternoon was a hot one. If I was given a pound for everytime someone would walk into my little sideroom and comment on the extraordinary warm temperature, I would have about three quid. I asked if the windows could be opened any wider or a fan would be possible. I was told no on both counts. The windows because I might somehow make it to the other side of the room, wrestle open a panel and climb out. If I was capable of that, I wouldn’t be in hospital! The refusal of the fan felt cruel, but unlike most of the country, I haven’t forgotten that we’re still in the middle of a worldwide killer pandemic, so you’ll hear no moans from me. Apart from why are we getting this bloody heatwave in mid September?
Today has been your typical morning as a patient. Waiting. And more waiting. My sideroom is too hot, but my handheld fan is a Godsend. I’m pretty sure it is ok to use, as many nurses have noticed it. Despite how helpful the fan is to me, I would hate to break ward rules, especially concerning Covid. Even when being transferred onto the ward two days ago, I was given a face mask, but told that if I struggled as a result, I could remove it. Considering I was making such a short journey and the possibility that I may be saving someone’s life as a result of wearing it, I did so. It’s what any normal member of society does.
This set of blog posts seem to be a lot more boring compared to previous hospital stays. Perhaps I need to break a couple of major limbs, or nearly die in Intensive Care. If that is what it takes to spice my posts up, you can sod off! Make this hospital stay as mundane, boring and dull as possible.
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