Andy Rod Stewart Murray has now left, with his fiancée.
I fear for her prospects, once he hits the big time.
Next time I see him, it’ll be in the Daily online Mail, wrapped with Gwynneth Paltrow, or some starlet.
If Gwynneth, it’ll never last. She only eats Oxygen and the gluten from gluten free bread.
Or something like that.
The chances of Gwynnie having a fridge full of strobberi jam , to keep him from going after someone more racy, are almost zero.
As half expected, I am told that in fact I’m in for another day ( at least ).
The microbiology team ( and no, they’re not in charge of testicle measurement – that’s the local surveyor ) has decided that my blood tests show way too much sign of infection, and my intravenous drugs need to be changed again.
Thanks to Dani and Amber and Pia and Mark P and Irfan for visiting.
As anyone that has come so far has been sent to totally the wrong ward, it’s Bed G4 on the Riverside Ward in Charing Cross. And don’t let the various people on reception tell you otherwise.
The surgeon has just done his round and seen the two other guys, who have both had their appendixes out.
‘Rodney Stewart’ just had to say, had to … ‘ I’m a singer. Will having my appendix out have affected my vocal chords?’
I had to stifle a laugh, to be honest.
Wa you wont for breakfast?
Some tea, some orange juice, and bran flakes please.
You wont sugar ?
No thank you.
She appears to write it all down.
Few minutes later..
She puts a tray ( with tea, small carton of juice, and tiny bowl containing about 20 bran flakes, full to the brim with milk ) out of my reach on a table to the side of my bed.
I ask her to pass my the tray, which she kindly does.
I no put the sugar in yet.
I don’t want sugar, thank you.
You wont sugar – How many?
No sugar at all, thank you.
Maybe I’m the first person in this hospital not to request sugar?
I know now find myself strangely pleased when I hear strobberi jam …. from behind the curtain – which of course I did 3 times.
Ok so now I’m not going home today after all.
As the other three on this ward have been dangled the carrot of leaving, and then it been taken away, I was realistic about it happening to me too.
Sorry to Jo Fleet for not making her thing tonight – I don’t think I’d have trousers to fit in any case, having gotten rid of my Hammer Pants a long time ago.
Saturday nights ain’t what they used to be, that’s for sure.
They’ve cleaned the floor!
The tennis playing recording artist is now with his fiancé.
He is looking at his phone, she is looking out the window.
If you’re this bored with eachother before you’re married, what are the prospects for your future?
The lorry driver is bemoaning another night in hospital to come ( more opportunities for the doctors to kill him, I imagine )
The young Latino is back from surgery and looks tired.
I was advised that I’d go home today and am taking that with a pinch of salt.
Either way I’ll watch the English and Scottish minnows play eachother in the Six Nations this evening, with the main event on tomorrow.
..for coming to see me in hospital.
I don’t know why the first line now appears in italics?
But thanks to Dani and my girls, to Dan, to John and Marta, to Pia, to Alison Evans, to Cliff and Holl’s and to my mother too.
My mother told me today that she’s been practicing doing things since the age of 7 with her left hand, just in case something ever happens to her right arm… having once seen a war film where someone got his right arm shot off.
I think that she needs a hobby.
I’ve been in hospital now for almost 3 days.
As yet no one has come to tidy up, clean or disinfect in any way at all. Is it any wonder MRSA is almost standard in ‘modern’ wards?
There are 4/5 men in here. I’m not sure how many as they keep pulling the curtains around the beds so that I can’t see anything.
On my right there is someone with a strong Scottish accent, who tells anyone who passes by that he’s a recording artist, and plays tennis.
As he’s Scottish and he’s not Rod Stewart, Sheena Easton or Andy Murray, I’m pretty sure he’s not famous.
Whenever ‘food’ is offered he asks ‘ to see the menu’ as though he were at the Ritz
Then invariably he chooses whatever there is with strawberry jam in it .
Opposite I think is a lorry driver in his 60’s , who is prone to talking about medical things with his daughter. They’re obviously experts on anatomy. Yesterday they were discussing/ wondering what a tricep was.
He just said that he’s worse off now than when he came in, and blames all the medical personnel that have seen him. He does seem to know all the medications that he takes, and there are a lot of them. I get the impression that he’s quite proud of taking so many drugs for so many things . A few minutes ago he said that he’d end up with RSA . He either missed out the M or he belongs to the Royal Society of Arts – who am I to say?
A regular is ‘ if I had my bike outside, I’d be off ‘ I don’t think so though Someone said they’d be showing the rugby in the room next door, and 3 times I’ve heard him say ‘ if I was at home, I’d watch it ‘. As he’s perfectly mobile and cant be arsed to go 20 feet to the next room, I can’t see him escaping from here on a motorbike any time soon.
Another young fella has something gastric wrong with him and sounds Latino. He is going to have surgery today, so I imagine it’s not nice.
What they all have in common is that they all sound semi cheerful in the day, yet as soon as the lights go out there is a chorus of painful groaning, invariably involving buzzers being pressed and lights being turned on.
I think that sleep is an important part of the healing process for most things?
No chance in here – I’ll never leave at this rate.
To my great surprise, if I gently squeeze ‘ the affected area ‘ I feel pain. The same specific type of pain that all men and schoolboys that get kicked in the nuts will feel.
Its the only sensation that I’ve felt below my injury in 3 years.
So I can’t walk, can’t balance, can’t have a pee, but if I get kicked in the bollocks I’m just like all the other guys..