Love, sex and interminable pop-culture references

Heart and Soul

It was only on my second night in the holding bay that I realised the chair I’d been sitting on could recline. One week earlier, when I’d been put in a chair, I’d assumed I’d be able to sleep in it. Sleep wasn’t something I did. The second time, I accidentally nudged a switch with my foot which turned the chair into a bed.

I still didn’t have an actual bed, but as I rationalised, the week beforehand I had been in a chair for about twelve hours before they found me a ward, and even longer before they found me a bed. This would be the same deal, I told myself, only this time I’d be in a more specialised ward than the AMU, and they wouldn’t move me until they found a bed.

Eighteen hours later I was sitting in another, less comfortable chair in the AMU waiting for a bed. They did, to their credit, find me a side room. I had a chair and a bed and a TV that didn’t work, plus an en-suite which I found very difficult to use. I wasn’t really expecting to spend another two weeks there, exactly. That’s just what… happened.

A week beforehand I’d been told I had possibly had a heart attack. Whatever the cause of the myopericarditis, it was incredibly painful. Morphine had helped me zone out and, during the interminably long bits of no sleep, I had found a way to watch The Producers on my ‘phone. Robinson turned up a couple of times, as did people from work. My parents made the occasional cameo. Apart from that, I had been left alone around the clock.

Gastro catastro

My second week was characterised by constant attempts at water retention while waiting for something more concrete. I wasn’t even aware there was going to be anything else once my gastrointestinal system had evened out. The swelling around my heart hadn’t quite gone, but that was now a secondary concern. It seemed as if they didn’t want to let me go at all, and although I did get half an hour’s grace period to vote, I did feel somewhat like I was waiting for something that didn’t exist.

My sister and cousin had both visited before gallstones were mentioned. Apparently, I have had them for some time and the sharp pains that I haven’t been having (seriously, I haven’t) have been coming from the gall bladder, which I will now be having removed. They decided to do that, but then didn’t. I was packed and ready to go when I was told that I would still be there for four more days in order to have another MRI.

47 booked a ‘plane ticket towards the end of my third week.

I was discharged for the third and final time on Friday. Neither wife nor bestie were home when I got here. I had the first orgasm in three weeks and it went EVERYWHERE. The following morning I sat quietly with the two people I love most in the world.

I love the NHS

I spent three weeks in hospital with mycarditis, pericarditis, chest and back and abdominal pain, sleep loss, fluid loss, COVID-19, D&V, gastroenteritis, gallstones and a chest infection. I got three meals a day, two offers of morning tea and biscuits, free showers with all the equipment, and even clothes, if the ones I came in had worn out.

Next week I am going to spend a night in UCH having my sleep monitored; two days later I am back in the clinic talking to doctors about how to go forward.

I didn’t pay a penny for any of this. I never will. I got a sick note from my GP – didn’t pay. Had to reschedule my biannual consultation with my neurologist – didn’t pay. They even offered to run me home in an ambulance if I didn’t have my own transport (but I did). I wouldn’t have paid for that.

Yes, I was bored. Yes, I was in a lot of pain. Yes, I got basically no sleep. Yes, I was in a chair for two days. Yes, I was in for a lot longer than I was meant to be.

But I was being taken care of and nobody asked why. They just did it, because that’s what they do.

And that’s why the NHS works.

1 Comment

  1. Molly

    I am glad to hear they finally released you back into the wild. And I wholeheartedly agree about the NHS.

    Molly

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