Someone dies during the night and is quietly wheeled out of the ward, well it would have been quietly if someone had heard of oil so instead the deceased was squeaked away. Selfishly I feel fed up at being disturbed and the death drags my mood down.
Day four arrives with the usual flurry of activity with staff rushing about, food (ha ha) and drugs being delivered but I am exhausted and just want to sleep, I feel bone tired, worn out and very weak but on the plus side my heart is still beating.
The old lags swap banter but it just washes over me, I grin and grunt occasionally and that seems enough for them. The vampire pops in and takes more blood from my dwindling supply, does he not know that I need it? a cup of tea arrives, but that does not seem to be a fair swap.
A nurse picks up on my mood and chats for a while, I notice after she moves on that nurses keep
popping by to briefly chat. I should not have a favourite but if I do it is the nurse that I have nicknamed “scary” when I am first on the ward, but she quickly proves that her fierceness is bluff and she turns out to be incredibly empathic and caring. Scary throws bits of humour at me as she passes by again and again.
The specialist and his fan club turn up and pronounce their pleasure at how well the surgery went, apparently I did well, and I am told that I will make a full recovery. To be honest I am impressed with the specialist and I am pleased to have done well for him.
A happy male nurse bustles in and announces that I will be mobilised later that day then he bustles out. Mobilised? I’m worried about that but actually it is nothing to do with the Army I just have to stand up, stand up! Have they gone mad I will never manage to do that.
Later the visitors drift in, mine and the other old lags, they all know each other now and some of the worry has subsided so there is an almost jolly atmosphere, they all chat, laugh and swap stories. After the visitors leave there is a lull and I sleep some more. I feel sorry for the visitors they make a lot of effort for very little return I guess that is why they steal my fruit, revenge.
Two energetic nurses arrive to mobilise me, one on each side they help me out of bed and into a standing position. I go dizzy and break into a sweat this is hard work, “right” says a nurse “we need you to walk to the other side of the ward and back, I wait for the punch line but no they actually mean it. So propped up on each side I set of on a 16ft journey. I shuffle slowly across to the bed opposite, accompanied by applause from the old lags but the journey takes so long that they get bored of cheering and shouting insults and I make the return trip in silence. The nurses are pleased and assure me that I will be rushing about tomorrow, I am exhausted, again, and sleep some more.
When I wake up the sister sits by me and explains all sorts of things but I cannot concentrate and when she leaves I have no idea what she has said. This seems to happen a lot, the not concentrating not the visits from sister.
The vampire comes back with a trainee and they extract the last drop of my blood, I think it is the last of my blood because vampire says that this will be his last visit.
Scary comes and sits by my bed and asks if the pep talk from the sister had lifted my mood, so that’s what she was doing. “Not really” I say. Scary does her best and I do laugh. She tells me that depression is common after a heart attack. I do not want to inflict that on my family, so I start to make an effort to cheer up.
Bed time comes and the kindest nurse in the world, obviously forewarned, drops by to cheer me up. So much effort on my behalf. Why do we pay footballers so much and nurses so little?
A sleeping pill finishes the day.
