Old news - Once more, into the breach ....

* apologies readers, for some reason the first try had NO paragraph formatting whatsoever. I did it on my iPad. I'll need to look into that.


Here it is again, with paragraphs, and a bit more info.

... and onwards through the fog!

 Back in hospital again. Like the old Apollo missions, and then the Space Shuttle launches, after the first few trips in here, it's old news. Not many care.

 This makes three times in the last month and a half. It's due to three separate reasons. But the common denominator is, IV anti-bees.

This isn't even worth posting on FacePlant (but I did).  I prologue this Blog with the "in hospital" info to set the tone - the atmosphere, if you will. Each foray into this particular breach always has a twist at the start.

This time I started with a foot tune-up at the podiatrist. A toe decided to light up and start glowing a nice bright shade of red - cellulitis time again.

So here I sit in ward again, counting down the four-hour cycle of drippy-drip-drips.

It's early days, so none of the usual symptoms (flu-y-ness, fever, chills, appetite gone) have surfaced. This time, however, the orthro-pods trussed up my leg in a removable backslab. Not sure why. This is because I haven't seen an actual sawbones yet. And it's Saturday evening ... I've been inside since Friday morning.

I got the drips going, but somehow the blood results were nowhere to be found once I got a (temp) bed last night (hospital chockers yet again). So they wouldn't give me my other usual drug, the blood thinner. I just went through the umpteenth session of getting back ON these damn things, following a week of injections due to being taken OFF them two weeks ago. That was another mission into uncharted Absurd Territory ...

... as my discharging doc failed to submit the right form last time, I was led on a merry chase around town trying to get this one particular drug, to have it on hand for the district nurse visit. Which I then had to finish by coming to that clinic in the hospital, because this cowboy ain't gonna jab himself with this stuff.

Anyway. Where was I?

Ah yes. Back in 'stir' again. Not long ago here in 'real time', they got me into a quad room, after one night in some sort of 'secondary recovery' ward. Not as heinous as The Pit Of Despair from three visits ago, but, a bad layout unto itself.

Twelve beds, one combo bathroom/shower. At least this time I had phone and net reception. For reasons that were never explained, this ward closes at 3 pm Saturdays, and doesn't function at all Sundays.

But wait, I digress. What the HOLY hell was all the constant chatter with the night nurses about? I don't mean subtle whispers every so often. These two sat there ALL GODDAMN NIGHT talking at a normal office-day volume. I was maybe 15 yards from them. So not a lot of sleep ... and when I did nod of, it was drugs drip time.

I mentioned I'm in this pseudo cast. Not sure why. Nothing is broken. No one told me I'm not meant to walk much in it ... but like jabbing myself, Homie don't play "bedpans" either. So I walk to the bathroom.

However ... I was soon to learn that was as far as I'm allowed to roam. I wanted supplies from the cafe and store, but was told in no uncertain terms, "No crutches for YOU." Crutch Nazis .....

So plan B - a wheelchair. No to that too ... But I wonder if they get how wheelchairs work? There is no walking ... A nice nurse went and got me a soda, in the interim - and now Tina is enroute with chips, Powerade and cookies (Tim Tams).

It wasn't long ago that I noted I had no water here in this room - and, come to think of it, I had to ask for the usual jug of aqua in the first ward too. I got my jug here finally ... but no cup. Woo hoo, drinking right out of the pitcher! Just like college!

 This whole mess started with an odd week at work (my only week at work in a month or more ...) Lots of tech was failing. Epically. The network, my computer. Printers. The elevators. The heating and air con.

Then on Thursday morning, I pulled this iPad out of my pack to discover it covered in yoghurt.

A package of it exploded inside the pack ... Which took me 90 minutes to totally clean up. Strange days, indeed. No clue how long I'll be inside this time. But seriously, I've had a guts full of this. I don't want to be broken any more. I am starting to feel THIS >|< close to snapping, like The Champ from the old radio comedy shows.

My wardmates were mostly non-entities this time too ... due to one senile old fellow who would not ... shut ... the fuck ... UP. He had the nurses constantly running for the exact same question almost every time. He ranted and rambled. He was THIS >|< close to experiencing what a plastic pillow felt like being pressed on his face ...

What exacerbated this was, the night nurses who insisted on trying to TALK to this gibbering fool. Besides being senile, he was also deaf. So they had to YELL at him. At 3 a.m. And again at 4 a.m.

At 2 and 6 a.m., I was being awoken for the drips ...

So I'm home now. Somehow, miraculously released after only a few days, AND early in the day.

I'm whipped. Put butter on my forehead, I'm toast.

Back to more fun tomorrow – the Limb Centre for a total recasting and refit of the leg socket!

This should be a good day.

And ... it's payday. There may be a beer involved.