There's nothing quite like the thought of the NHS having to pour £10,0000's worth of chemo down the toilet to make them suddenly realise that perhaps there is a side-room available tomorrow after all.
I think I just saw an old lady being pushed out of a side-room window and some doctors set fire to her possessions and medical records. Just making space.
I've got to sit on the ward of the living death until tomorrow, where they will now apparently have a room for me. I was fully dressed, discharged and ready to leave. I honestly believe they thought I'd crack and say "ok, I'll have it here".
Fools. Don't fuck with my Chi.
It's pretty disorganised here. I have to beg, remind, buzz and argue my case just to get my painkillers. Despite them giving them to me a few days ago when I stayed, it would appear there is no record and I have to jump through hoops to get my Oxy. Which I need. I should have bought more in from home, but last time I did that, they locked them away and I never saw them again. Right now, some student doctor is lacing a student nurse's drink. Probably.
So, after a shitty night and a totally confusing morning, the deal is that if I park my ass here until tomorrow, I'll be moved off and the real pain can begin.
Everything. And I mean everything, is hard work.
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1 comment:
you rock Spence. Keep fighting and remember the serenity prayer xx
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