One Split Second Read Free Page B

the end—huh—who am I kidding!! Anyway, no change today—sleeping pills seem to be working or I am just exhausted. Chest still really hard and painful and uncomfortable, as if someone has put an old fashioned girdle on me and is pulling the laces as tight as they can, and my back and shoulders, downwards, feel like I’m lying on really bad sunburn; no matter how much I try to explain to people they just don’t seem to appear to have any concept of what I am going through (not that I would want this for anyone). What I would do to be able to just get out of bed, shower, have an argument, I mean a really good ‘sawdust of the floor’, ‘gloves off’ argument), mmh, Actually, I do argue… with the friggin TELLY, because I hate Robert Kilroy-bloody-Silk, and I DO argue with him—but it’s not the same! oh, help, I want to be normal and I hate normal, normally!!
    Slept for a bit, things seem to be going on in the ward today but it is calmer. I don’t feel so irritable, even though that caffeta thing had a problem and the bed was wet, something to do with a dual carriageway, at least that’s how I said I would remember it and now I can’t—all I know something was wet and believe me it was urine, I don’t think I will ever get used to the smell of urine on me, I smell old, or like a men’s toilet!! Plenty perfume and body sprays needed and air freshener for when the nappy needs changed as well!!
    I get no visitors at the moment, but it’s weird, because, sometimes when I hear people coming towards my door I really hope that they are not coming to see me. Don’t get me wrong, I love visitors, and once visitors are here I really enjoy it, and especially, now, that I feel no need for my mask, in fact it’s quite liberating and refreshing actually.
    I don’t know what made me think of it, but I will not let Angela forget that she let me down by not getting me a new mobile phone, and I think it’s because they think I will use it in the hospital—so, WHAT, do they think the hospital is gonna do? . . . give me my marching orders and discharge me for using my phone?—I should be so bloody lucky! ActuaIly, I would use it in the hospital, so I suppose they are right? ha ha.
    Well I think I dropped into my `Ronnie Corbett syndrome` hereinafter referred to as my ‘‘rcs’. To enlighten people, he used to do his own little sketch in a comedy show called The Two Ronnies, where he sat in a large comfy swivel chair and when he told a story he would always drift into another story to explain a part of something that related to the first part of the story and it became a story within a story, because whilst explaining about the first thing he started to explain about he would find something else within that explanation that needed explaining because it related to that particular part as well, understand? keep up—well, thats me and thats my ‘rcs’!
    So, eventually got hold of hospital phone as well, sticking to my guns there—first thing in the morning, tea-time at night—well, my agreement anyway. Barry phoned and I got an apology, of sorts, but as usual I’m tired, tetchy, frustrated, worried and the mere mention of my family, like this morning, he exaggerates all the prejudices he has against them ‘tenfold’, however I did say never to talk about my family the way he had done the day before because it upsets me. He was very dismissive and went on to say that he thought Glasgow would be a good option, but I just know that he still has his reservations about my family and them taking over my life… (like he used to—many moons ago now). I explained that long term rehab in Stanmore would mean a reliable source of communication personally and it would have to be him and the kids. For God’s sake, I haven’t kept in touch with any of his family for years and not at all since Nanny Lou (Barry’s mams) funeral. I don’t even keep in touch with Toni, my best friend in Berrytown and her hubby, Steve, who I