As I lie awake in my hospital bed (number 32 If you're interested. Yes I think it's a great and auspicious number), having had to press the placebo-"nurse call"-button for the 12th time tonight, I marvel at how little the personalities here resemble my family.
Let me explain:
My resident David Helfgott rippoff is becoming more and more cliched. He even talks teh same in his sleep, as well as hooking out some incredible snoring stylings.
My other geriatric wardmate also has some impressive snoring action going on. Between the two they have a quite extensive repetoir of snorts, grunts, burbles, whistles, trills and, worst of all, deceptive silences. Oooh, the silences.
The young, ubersick looking kid has a TV addiction, staying up last night until fuck knows what time watching various sports and movies. I never realised how fun Formula 1 was to listen to.
Everyone should get private health cover. I'm not sure how much is costs, but I'm going to make enquiries as soon as I get out of here. What I wouldn't do for a private room, decent food and non plastic sheets. Get private health cover - apparently you get free glasses frames every year too.
I'm missing the girls now - Jess, Super Susan and Melissa - In my fevered semi-sleep last night I found myself manufacturing cracked out conversations in my head. I think you're getting to know a person pretty well when you can supply their entire side of an argument or conversation without actually needing them to be nearby.
I had to dismantle my bed to get service just before, the nurse-call-placebo-light failed once again. I shall have to ask for a walk the doggie style drip rack tomorrow, but tonight I just unscrewed the fixed one from the bedhead and carried it down the hall. Expecting a lesbian nurse orgy of epic proportions, imagine my surprise when they were just all hanging around doing nursey stuff. Big disappointment there. In the process of charging around without trainer wheels I managed to get my baggie/hole in arm levels messed up and backbled into my IV line about a foot. This lookes cool.
My midnight antibiotic infusion was much less pleasant that the previous ones. I think the nurse may have had a premonition that I expect them of having a sapphic gruntfest while all the patients are asleep. I woke up just as she'd connected the first antibiotic syringe into my supplimentary IV docking bay:
Nurse: [brusqely] Did you just get to sleep?.
Jaymis: [crisply] No. I actually just woke up.
[Nurse thumps on plunger of syringe sending about 3 cubic feet of uberstrong antibiotics burning through Jaymis' right arm.
It's interesting when you can feel where your veigns are inside your body by following the traceries of sensations made by various compounds flowing through them. My first saline bag on sunday morning was refrigerated. I could feel it creeping up my arm, and it cooled my whole body of fever.
In contrast, my last bag of antibiotics traced twin lines of fire up my arm. Most things they put in only take one circulatory pathway, but this one went in so fast that had to cut a second route to fit in all at once.
Not necessarily a pleasant experience, but interesting.
