Sunday, August 28, 2016

Monday, August 29

There's always something happening in a hospital. I'm in a 4-bed ward with three other men. One seems OK but the other two are sad cases. One sleeps most of the time but in the evening he wakes up and keeps everyone on their toes, tryingto get out of bed and complaining. His long-suffering wife sits watching him sleep hour afafter hour.

The fellow opposite is called Norm. He's only a couple of years older than me but looks 100. He spends his time staring into space. When the lights go out he starts a long monologue full of swear words, complaining about being ignored by everyone.

The third fellow just gets on with his life, not drawing attention to himself. He only has one bad habit: in the afternoon , he likes to listen to the races on his radio, so we all have to listen to the races!

The hospital has a big staff. There's one flying squad of beefy men called 'the boys' who help out with patients who can't turn over. Every now and then, one of the nurses will call for 'the boys' and they rush in like the Spanish Inquisition (and nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!). Drag the curtains around the bed and carry out their rituals in secret. Then they rush out again.

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