I never got to write this while I was in hospital and, so, was never sent to family and friends. I write this now just to provide closure for the series…

Friday…

So, this day started like every other, wake up at 6, breakfast at 7, enter my lunch and tea choices for the day. For lunch, since it was Friday, “fish and chip Friday” as the nurses were calling it, I ordered, you guessed it, fish and chips for lunch. And my usual sandwich and soup for tea. Settled down for another day of boredom, watching TV, having bloods taken, finger pricked, blood pressure, oxygen and temperature. All were good.

My fellow “inmates” were quiet, even “D” for now. Until he again got impatient with waiting for breakfast, toilet, wash, whatever his current wish was.

Lunch arrived. What’s this? A sandwich? Um… So it turns out there was a problem with the hospital’s kitchen. Lunch would now be at tea time, tea would be at lunchtime but without the soup. Okay then…

After “lunch”, one of the nurses announced “you’re going home today”. I was like, wait, what? I mean, I was ready, but was my home? I didn’t have my keys to get in. Panicked call to my sister, she (and my younger niece) rushed down to the hospital, and, well, after my sister’s panicked chat with the nurses, things were sorted and I was, indeed, going to be going home.

My sister and niece left, late afternoon to get me some bits and bobs for my fridge and eating as, obviously, being incarcerated in hospital for so long, I had no fresh milk, bread, etc. And my sister awaited at my home for my return.

I waited, and at some time, a bit later in the afternoon, I was evicted from my bedspace. I had to wait incongruously in the corridor, sitting, watching the world go by. “Tea” arrived. Well, at least I got my fish and chips. Which, by the way, may seem unhealthy, but it was a piece of oven cooked fish with oven cooked chips, 6 of them.

After “tea”, I was told I now go Discharge and they would call me a taxi. Now, given my current state of ability to walk, etc., I sort of expected to be “wheeled” to Discharge. RBH is a huge hospital, with very long corridors and, even visitors who are fit and well say it’s a long walk. They weren’t kidding. I was made to walk to Discharge, escorted by a nurse. I had to stop several times en-route to get my breath back. Towards the end, I thought, I’m going to end in Coronary rather than Discharge. You see, despite my own improvements and determination, I still wasn’t 100%. Before now, walking to the loo and back made me need to sit and rest. This walk nearly bloody killed me (not literally you understand). Discharge were aghast they made me walk, sat me in a chair and let me rest while they ordered a taxi.

Eventually, the taxi arrived, I hopped into a wheelchair and was wheeled to my awaiting ride. My first taste of fresh air in goodness knows how long.

The rest, as they say, is history. Today, I feel a lot better than I have done in a long time. Despite their foibles, RBH fixed me up good! And since my release and now, I think I’m a new man, looking forward to a brighter future, being out and about, and, well, maybe something else…