Same Time Next Year? . . . . . . . .

Journey

by Jay Diamond

Yesterday, my friend Jay of Jay's Pet Portraits,  greeted me with the above words, saying they'd be the perfect title for  a blogpost. She has a point. For those of you who might have been wondering whether Friko Has Left The Building without even a by-your-leave, I can report on something which appears to be becoming an annual event: a short stay in hospital.  Run any kind of virus or mild indisposition by me and I'll gladly pick it up; what's more, I'll instantly convert it into a bout of atrial fibrillation. Cue: visit to my GP max. 24 hours later, who then calls for an ambulance; and that's me out of the picture, attached to machines that bleep annoyingly, bored, self-loathing, bitter, and most of all, extremely cross.

This time I didn't even have a handbag (purse to you lot over there) on me - the GP surgery is just three minutes' drive away -  no phone, no money, not even a bar of chocolate to my name, to sweeten the hours in hospital. Tests and examinations took up some time, of course, but for long periods I was just lying there, doing what I do best, earwigging. (Are you glad you don't live anywhere near me?)

This was a Medical Assessment Unit with four-bed-bays, short of stuffing bananas up my ears, it was impossible not to overhear the conversations around me. Besides, they were the only entertainment on offer.


Part I
Mother and Teenage Daughter, with nurse taking notes:

How's your appetite?

Mother (the patient): fine, I eat well.

Daughter (the visitor): Ha, you eat chocolate for breakfast, chocolate for lunch and chocolate for dinner. I'm always trying to get you to eat properly.

Mother: I don't just eat chocolate, I eat other things in between.

Nurse: Do you smoke?

Mother: yes.

Nurse: Would you like to stop? I could get you into the programme here. How many cigarettes a day?

Mother, quietly: Twenty.

Daughter, exploding theatrically: Twenty! in your dreams, Mum!


Moral: Do not let your teenage daughter accompany you into hospital!






Part II
Mother and Teenage Daughter:

Daughter (the patient), either asleep, or busy with her Blackberry, mostly silent.

Mother (the visitor) to the room at large: She's not well at all, she's had lots of tests already and tomorrow she'll have to have a lumbar puncture. They have no idea what's wrong. But I'm not leaving, I'm going to stay all night. If they try to shift me I'll kick up a fuss. They may act like they're adult but they're still only children. They need their mum to be there, when they wake up.  There should be wards for patients her age, not just for children and adults, and parents should have a place to stay too.


Moral: Do not let your overly protective mother accompany you into hospital!






Part III
Elderly Daughter and ninety-one year old Mother, tea lady, doctor.

Mother, very sweet, very deaf, quietly dozing.: It's not six o'clock already?

Daughter: No, that's not a clock, that's a monitor.

Mother: If it's six o'clock you'll want to go home and have a rest.

Daughter: After sitting all day?

Mother: Why are you here? Have you been here long? You'll want a rest, won't you?
There go those chimes again, is it six o'clock already?

Daughter: No, that's not a clock, that's a monitor.

Tea lady: Hello, would you like a drink?  What would you like, tea, coffee,  hot chocolate?

Mother: What's that? Have you come to give me an injection?

Tea lady, as before, louder. The old lady takes tea. Daughter leaves the ward after helping her mother with tea and biscuits.

Doctor, Indian, in beautiful flowing clothes:  Hello Mrs. X, I have come to take a look at you.

Mother: Yes, thank you, I had a lovely cup of tea, very nice.

Doctor: No, I am your doctor, I have come to take a look at you.

Mother: What's that?

Every other person in the ward: she's deaf, you'll have to speak directly into her ear.

Several attempts at communication later the doctor says: Ask your daughter to speak to me when she gets back.

Mother, with a chuckle: I'm very deaf, you see, you'll have to speak to my daughter.

Moral: Do not leave your elderly parent alone in hospital!