Veintitres

I give thanks for all the opportunities to study human nature there are on a hospital ward. Some times you can make a pretty good stab at guessing what folk are like by their appearance - especially staff of course who probably have more control over it than patients, despite their uniforms. Oh and tones of voice...just like your cumulative laughter or frowns etch themselves into your face, it seems chuckles and grumbles can bend your vocal chords to make happier or whinier sounds.

I have to cling to what I can, I'm close to the limit of how long I can hold my breath in the toxic-to-me air of the hospital. My mobility is improving but my morale is plummeting and after a nasty paternalistic doctor I'd never met before came to tell me something serious while I was having dialisys earlier I ended up snivelling into my already soggy fish pie.

Hospital - where no one hears you cry. Where no one hears you full stop, and where you are bombarded by voices, buzzers, beeps, but you will never hear silence or a natural sound. Where you are frequently touched, whether you want to be or not, but no one touches you.

I give thanks on behalf of loved people that visiting now lasts from 10.30 to 20.00. And for the extra loved, there are no limits on numbers by the bed. People are often sitting closer to me than I would like them to be if they were visiting me! It is lovely though to see that warmth in action, and to hear the way relatives champion the patient's needs, liaising with all levels of staff, not leaving them to uncertain to ask, or ask and be ignored, or left waiting far too long...

I give thanks for finding out I could have help spreading butter and marmalade on my toast, and cutting it, as this is something I've failed to manage too often to attempt again. I wonder if it will really happen tomorrow or if they'll just say, oh no, we're much too busy...

I give thanks I have a home I want to go to. I wonder if I will...