I came close to killing him.
HE spent every single bit of Friday night, well Saturday morning really, muttering, fidgeting, turning the light on, turning the light off, going to the toilet, not going to the toilet, getting up, going back to bed….just about every single thing ………. I nearly killed HIM.
The only time HE was quiet was when the nurse turned up,
NO IT WASN’T! (there is a word that goes before “wasn’t” but I can’t publicly use it!)
At half past three in the morning I, and my collection of tubes, went to the toilet. I wasn’t feeling briliant. Clammy and yacky but my temperature was ok and my blood pressure was fine. But I felt awful.
I went back to back to the longest night and, eventually, the 5.30 observations round arrived. Having spent all night awake, and keeping everyone else awake, that’s when HE stopped. HE was lucky because HE would have been found with my tubes wrapped round his neck!
The hospital saved HIS life because that Saturday morning they discharged HIM. He still does not know how close he came.
My Saturday got worse. I felt worse. Nothing showed up on my sheets of information. It may have been the withdrawal of my friend Morphine, and the removal of a tube or two, or that I had the first tiny taste of a bit of food (soup) but whatever it was I just felt lousy. Even the defeat of Liverpool by Middlesborough (Middlesborough!!!) didn’t cause a flicker of interest. My afternoon visitors came and went. Not interested.
Then I knew. I was going to be sick. 41 staples in a vertical wound stretching all the way down from my chest to my, well I don’t know what bit of my body it’s called but it’s 41 staples from where it started. It puts a different light on being sick. Will those staples still be there when I’ve stopped being sick? To make matters worse I had been given a small, cardboard bowl. I knew I needed more than that!!
I’m not sure “dashed” is the right word to describe my movement to the toilet but I got there….. and as visions of burst bowels flashed before my eyes, was sick….lots…..but my staples survived.
I felt better.
I never found out why he was there but have a sneaky feeling that he would be back. I think he might have had something that he didn’t want to admit he had.