Yesterday afternoon was a hot one. If I was given a pound for everytime someone would walk into my little sideroom and comment on the extraordinary warm temperature, I would have about three quid. I asked if the windows could be opened any wider or a fan would be possible. I was told no on both counts. The windows because I might somehow make it to the other side of the room, wrestle open a panel and climb out. If I was capable of that, I wouldn’t be in hospital! The refusal of the fan felt cruel, but unlike most of the country, I haven’t forgotten that we’re still in the middle of a worldwide killer pandemic, so you’ll hear no moans from me. Apart from why are we getting this bloody heatwave in mid September?

Today has been your typical morning as a patient. Waiting. And more waiting. My sideroom is too hot, but my handheld fan is a Godsend. I’m pretty sure it is ok to use, as many nurses have noticed it. Despite how helpful the fan is to me, I would hate to break ward rules, especially concerning Covid. Even when being transferred onto the ward two days ago, I was given a face mask, but told that if I struggled as a result, I could remove it. Considering I was making such a short journey and the possibility that I may be saving someone’s life as a result of wearing it, I did so. It’s what any normal member of society does.

This set of blog posts seem to be a lot more boring compared to previous hospital stays. Perhaps I need to break a couple of major limbs, or nearly die in Intensive Care. If that is what it takes to spice my posts up, you can sod off! Make this hospital stay as mundane, boring and dull as possible.

It has been going on too long. I haven’t been well for weeks and while that drug being taken away may have acted as a trigger, other symptoms have developed as a result.

It was time to return to hospital. We had all tried our best, but specialist help was needed. I got to ride the ambulance again. I’m getting used to it now and almost enjoy it… almost.

I didn’t enjoy the hours which followed, being left on a generic ward for a suitable bed to become available. I felt very much in limbo. All the while, I was feeling increasingly rough.

I am not afraid to say that I ‘played on’ the fact I was feeling terrible. That’s not an admission of exaggerating the truth to hospital staff, but simply the fact I needed to get onto a suitable ward, where my BiPap could be used before bad things happened to me. I’m not usually that demanding person, but I think last night called for it.

As I was wheeled to my new ward, I overheard the chit-chat from the two porters pushing my bed. “This is going to Sideroom Blue, Bed 1”. Suddenly I heard alarm bells in my head. Was I sharing a room? I think that would be worse than being plonked in an open bay. Why say “Bed 1” if the room only has one bed. All was revealed… I’m an anxious puppy, who over analyses everything. Porters have the
their own special code.

My first encounter with a doctor was embarrassing. I forgot that they had to wear uniform. When one introduced themselves, I thought that they were a cleaner, so returned the greeting, smiled and waved. Then it dropped… that’s not to say be rude to doctors, but my casual approach embarrassed me yesterday as much as it amuses me today.

I didn’t have the greatest of nights. By that I mean that I hardly slept. There’s always so much to prepare for on the first evening. Doctors and nurses in and out the sideroom. Test after test. More questions than Chris Tarrant ever asked on ‘Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?’.

Then, while I am having a lovely sleep, I am awoken at 6am. Sigh. At least I was in my own room and was kindly allowed to sleep in until 9am.

Anyone who has gone cruising will know that a lot of welcoming and socialising takes place the first day. This results in a late night. You could say it’s exactly the same as being in hospital, except it’s the opposite.

Today has been a tad on the busy side. Doctors trying desperately to diagnose what’s going on with me (where do you start?). Nurses being very kind and helpful, in between taking tests.

On the plus side, my lovely wife was allowed to visit. That meant so much. I’ll be seeing her tomorrow too. She’s incredible.

I should have a better indication of what’s going on tomorrow.

More annoying news – I may be dragged off for a scan tonight. As it’s getting late, can’t I just be left alone until tomorrow?

Wish me luck. I’ll need it…

I suffered my scooter accident 307 days ago and also many areas have got better since November, I am now suffering as a result of what I believe to be, advice to come off some tiny tablet which was never doing any harm in the first place.

I hate being unwell

I hate the impact it has on Claire

I hate missing work

I am so tired

and so fed up.