Part Three:
Off to Barts; I contact my son and he and his mum nip over to the house to get a few bits and pieces for my pending stay. Doc comes back to tell me that the transport has been ordered and will be here shortly. He also mentions that Barts have requested the use of “blues” (i.e. flashing lights)
Ambulance crew arrive with trolley. Two very fetching young ladies. (well, they’re fetching me) The driver is small, blonde and a bit ditzy the other, tall and a more serious brunette. They strap me to the trolley, wire me up to the portable monitor and off we go.
Ditzy blonde: “ooh, I’ve never driven in London before”
Me:
A quick dash down the M11, on to the North Circular and in via the A13. I timed it: 35 minutes. Tall brunette nice and chatty.
Arrive Barts, crew have trouble finding the ward but security guard turns up and shows us the way.
Ward nurse hands me fresh jim-jams, I go behind screen to change while nurse chats to ambulance crew.
I reappear,
Tall brunette: “nice pyjamas”
Me: “I know. I look like a beach castaway”
Ditzy blonde “tee-hee”
Nurse: “get in bed”
Me: “can I use the toilet first”
Nurse: “no you have to use a bottle”
Me: ”but I’m not plugged in yet”
She relents, I wave cheerio to the lovely ambulance crew and a few minutes later I’m in bed and wired up to a load of high-tech equipment.
Duty doctor arrives to put in a cannula (the A&E one having fallen out some time back) He faffs around, “got it” I look, “I don’t think that’s in” I say. He ignores me and proceeds to flush. Agony! It’s like my arm is on fire. “that is extremely painful” I say through gritted teeth. He digs around, flushes again, same result.
Me: "
"
He gives up and I’m left to try to get to sleep.
