So, it's 1am and I can't sleep for Billy-o. OK, so the can of Dr Pepper and trip to Costa Coffee at tea time weren't the best idea I admit! Anyway, I've been laid in bed for an hour now with my mind wandering; and they always say to write it down so what better than a late night waffle on the blog?!
I've been thinking back to the hospital and what a weird little world it is in there; particularly the relationships you form. You're there for days, weeks at best, and yet you develop these intense relationships with people who you'll never see again.
Take our lovely Brenda. I think I spent a total of 5 days in the next bed to her but felt like I knew her inside out: that woman had been through everything and spent day and night telling me about it! Not only was she diagnosed with a dicky ticker in the early 50s and subsequently had open heart surgery twice; she'd also gone through her husband being killed in a car crash, her sister being murdered and still managed to squeeze out 4 kids and down the odd Babycham! And you know what, there was still no stopping her, especially with her Shopmobility scooter! I find myself wondering if she managed to get out the same day as me or did ultrasound messed up again; and I really wish I could check in on her.
Then there was the Indian woman in the bed opposite, Maqsood, who couldn't speak a word of English. At first her shouting out in the night was annoying; but after a few days I found myself going over and holding her hand when she did. When I overheard the nurse on my last day there saying she was being sent home to die, I was glad I had done. That was 2 weeks ago and I've been wondering if Maqsood is still with us.
When I was first admitted, I was on a cardiothoracic surgery ward, very similar to the one I was on after my open heart surgery 9 years ago. I suddenly started thinking about a man who was on there with me. When they release you from intensive care they put you in a high dependency bay on the ward; I was on there with 3 elderly blokes who had all had bypasses, so it was quite strange for me. The man opposite was called Stan and, as we were in there over the weekend, we'd start conversations joking about going out into Leeds, our 'wee bags' in tow. So, when I was on there this time I started thinking 'I wonder if Stan's here?'. Bloody crackers I know!
And don't get me started on 'my bed'. I'm getting quite cross that my little corner of Ward 18 might now be occupied by someone else and someone else might be watching my bedside tv and chatting to Denise about Las Vegas whilst she changes my bed!
It's a very strange world the hospital. You're not there that long really, but you come away feeling as you would about a place you'd stayed for years. I think I'll always wonder about how Brenda and Stan are getting on, and what happened to Maqsood, and wondering how Denise is enjoying Vegas...