9/10/19 Last day in Trafford General hospital.

Woken by the blasted alarm of Tom’s (young lad next to me with clots on his lungs).

Got a bit forceful with Jenny (great nurse) & told her that if I was going to be kept in the dark, & not be a part of my treatment, I’d just go home. To put up with hospital life, I need to see progress in that treatment.

Consultants & some staff have forgotten that it’s supposed to be a team sport, treatment.

Hospital stays are worse than prison. It’s a much nicer cage, but you might die if you go before you’re supposed to…

0630 scrounged a brew.

0635 managed to get my cannula removed. Bonus!

0637 Amoxicillin.

0640 obs. 130/84. 96% sats. 92 pulse.

This infection is the one I picked up on the plane to Iceland years ago, & the cough my GP has been ignoring. Thank you all at the Delamere Medical Centre, Stretford!

0730 Shower (works in reverse, btw.) Go to hot, get freezing cold… Who’s the idiot? The contractor who threw it in to a deadline, or the manager who signed off on it?

Breakfast! Perfectly edible three white toast ‘n’ jam. Brew. Smashing.

A few stretches gets me to realise that my chest is lighter, so, that’s a plus.

0830 doze. 0850 poke… “Lunch orders”.

0940 taken for ultrasonic NDT on legs. No clots found, integrity good.

1030 bed linen change. Nurse just spotted neither Tom nor I have wrist bands on. Holz did, yesterday!

1032 10mg Amlodipin.

1110 a pretty year 3 came to talk for a while. Amber. I got on my orange box. Medical profession. DWP. Blah, blah blah…

11140, more feckin’ bloods. Left arm’s been done four times. Three phials, one is for an infection test. Apparently high on admission, hoping the level is low enough to be fucked off home…

Not even midday!

1215 lunch. Hot Amber was asked to leave as it was the ‘patient’s protected meal time’. Damn! Just as she was about to lay hands on! Doze.

1325 poke! Dinner order.

1335 poke! Obs.

1402 poke. Brew? Yup!

1600 good news! Freedom! Sent home with the a/b’s. prognosis: excellent. Got to wait a week before that gallon of beer… bugger.

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Manchester lad, grumpy & bitter. Please don't SPAM or otherwise, I take offence. Be nice.

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