Many of my friends have said that, if nothing else, at least I can get some rest. Some have even expressed how they'd like to be the ones lying around, getting time to read, not having to do the cleaning, being fed two free meals a day, etc. And I'm sure it sounds lovely from the outside, but I have to admit I'm not finding it terribly restful. At the end of the day, this isn't a hotel. It's not a private sanctuary where you can close the door, put your head down and snooze the time away. You're staying in the workplace of dozens of people, and their job? To observe and make sure that you and every other patient on their ward is stable and in the best health they can be. Even as I'm typing this I can hear drifting yet clear conversation, nurses walking backwards and forwards, trolleys rattling, doors slamming, and even if you manage to drift off amidst all this - I assure you it will only be for a quick cat nap as they will wake you up. Wake you up to do observations. Wake you up for medication. For food. I saw one poor chap being woken up to take a cup of tea. Now I love tea, in fact free and constant tea (seven times a day, no less!) is one of the big perks of being here. But sleep is more important than tea here, and there are times I don't think it would hurt for the staff to step back and leave people be.
Of course, there's more ways to rest than sleep. But unless you enjoy staring out of the window (assuming you're in a single ward as the four beds have no view at all) or make a friend on your ward, the only recreation to be had is that you bring yourself. Unless, of course, you're willing to pay. I may sound like I'm whinging and groaning, but I can fully understand the need for constant checks and observations, for making sure people are eating and getting the treatment they need in a timely manner in a way that isn't doing more harm. The above paragraph has it's roots in doctors and nurses doing their jobs, and it's hard to begrudge them but at the same time, it's hard not to yearn for just a single night and morning of peace to recover properly. However, the lack of recreational facilities truly is vile and the reasons those facilities are lacking comes straight from the minds who'd like to privatise the whole NHS and have done with it.
You see, there's a little machine by my bed. An innocuous little screen that glows brightly, day and night, and even has another screen emblazoned on it! A happy, smiling cartoon screen with it's arms thrown wide as if to give you a hug. Do not trust this screen! This screen is Lucifer in electronic form! You see, this screen provides certain services. You can watch television, surf the internet or even rent movies. Providing you're willing to pay. The price for the internet is two pounds for twenty-four hours, which actually doesn't sound too bad, until you realise that the hospital filters block most sites you might wish to visit (something there was no warning of in advance of you spending the money on it) and I'm not talking about anything naughty or obscene. I'm talking about Youtube. Or any kind of video service. It also seems to be incapable of loading any site more complicated than Google or Facebook properly. I attempted to visit Cracked to give my phone a rest and was presented with a plain white screen with dozens of blue hyper links on it, and somewhere, if you squinted really hard, was the article you were looking for.
The movie rental is perhaps the least of the offenders. The selection is pretty shallow, containing sequels to movies but not the originals they followed from, but it's two fifty for twelve hours and you'll no doubt find something you want to watch. The television though, the television... More than eleven whole English pounds for three days of television. Three pounds for two hours, and somewhere over five for a day. You might be willing to swallow this cost if you're in for a week or less, but having been here for three, that would be almost seventy pounds for the privilege of watching mostly terrestrial television and it amounts to the NHS letting whoever makes these stupid bedside machines hold their patients ransom. And if you, understandably, have better things to do with your money I guess it's books and newspapers for you! Assuming you can get them yourself, or have family who can bring them to you.
Of course, even if you can are mobile, like I am, there's nowhere to go regardless. There's a Costa, a Smiths and a canteen. Outside the grounds are mostly dedicated to the hospital and its sister buildings, and there are few places to go where you don't just find yourself wandering the same paths to nowhere day in, day out. As you can imagine, this lack of sleep, combined with a general restlessness and a feeling that every day is the same is an environment that's rather counter productive to writing these blogs. Most of my inspiration comes from fleeting thoughts based on things I've absorbed around me, some dismissed out of hand, others ruminated on. I often take the dog for a walk in the forest beside our home, and while I stroll down the pavement I build my points in my head and refine how I'm going to present them. Sometimes those blog ideas dismissed out of hand pop back into my head and start to form a life of their own, and I suddenly find that yes, yes I do have something to say on that issue and it is most definitely worth writing about.
Naturally, none of that structure exists here and without the seeds, not even tiny saplings will grow. So I've decided that perhaps a different approach is needed. A new structure. The one thing I can do here, above all else, is read. I've read upwards of seven books while I've been here, which is nice in its own way, but also puts a rather sharp focus on one kind of entertainment and there are days I do just shrug whatever I'm reading aside and become a little sick of it. Too much of a good thing, I suppose! But one thing my mind has latched onto lately is fiction set in the late 1800s to the early 1900s, and of late my brain has especially latched onto reading quasi-sequels to War of the Worlds. I'm not sure why, perhaps in such a structured environment my brain is seeking a structure, a common thread of it's own. I find them a pretty odd phenomenon, so as such I'll be sharing my thoughts on them with you in some kind of splinter segment of Cover to Cover I think. I've also been musing, lately, on the use of historical figures as fictional characters and where the line between respectful homage and plain disrespect lies. So perhaps they'll be something on that in the future. I suppose what I'm trying to say in a long winded manner is, I hope you like books because by God there's going to be a lot of talk about them in the future.
Now before I close off, I just want to say that despite this blog perhaps having a dour aspect,I mean no disrespect to the staff who work so hard here, or the institution itself. The nurses that work the ward are, for the most part, a lively and jovial lot who are happy to talk to you and take jokes well. That alleviates a lot of the more depressing aspects of being here, but they're also extremely busy, so there are days when you will only see them in passing. All I'm trying to put across is that hospital is a pretty restless and far from ideal experience no matter how well the staff take care of you. There's a lack of freedom, a lack of control of your own personal affairs, a lack of privacy for the most part that can weigh very heavy on a person's mind. I salute the work the staff of the NHS do, and I don't think I could be in a better place for the procedures I need, but at the same time, I hope that others reading this never have to have more than a fleeting experience with that good work.
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