The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1755 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

The next morning, I awoke to being asked if I’d like a tea or coffee. I’d slept very badly and my dream disconcerted me. It had to be a dream, I mean, I was having difficulty dealing with things as they were now, after the benefit of several hours of antibiotics. My chest still hurt, I felt very strange, was still using oxygen and here I was worrying about a dream.

I sat up and my head swam–against the current, I suspect, certainly breathing was very little if any better. I coughed and it felt like my whole chest caught fire. God that hurt. All this for a cup of hospital tea, at least it was a branded make, not the stuff they used to give you.

It didn’t taste that good, probably my mouth rather than the brew. I drank it all as I felt it would do me good, keeping up my tea levels. Of course an hour later I needed to wee and got halfway from the bed to what I was sure was the toilet door, when I was overtaken by dizziness and shortness of breath. Fortunately a nurse spotted me and helped me to the loo and then back to my bed. “Next time call for a bed pan, okay?” I nodded despite it making my head spin even more.

It was only the drip stand which had stopped me falling, giving the nurse time to dash and grab me. She read the riot act and I got back to bed and went off to sleep. I didn’t want to be there and sleep was one way to escape the place.

I was woken up by the consultant who made me perform a few tricks like coughing and breathing. They took some blood samples, checked the antibiotics and left me to return to my snooze.

Someone woke me for a cuppa and I think I drank it before going back to sleep. Then someone presented me with food. I looked at it, and went back to sleep. The last straw was when someone woke me up pretending to be Trish. I opened one eye and a cold hand grabbed my arm and she flung herself on top of me.

“Mummy, we were so worried about you.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“When will you be home?”

“As soon as I can, sweetheart.”

“We can’t go on holiday with you in hospital.”

“Why not, I wasn’t coming with you anyway?”

“We can’t, Mummy,” cried another voice–this time it was Livvie.

“Yes you can, I insist,” I said firmly and became breathless again.

“Now behave yourselves, girls, or we’ll have to ask you to leave,” a passing nurse berated them and they seemed to visibly shrink.

“We brought you some flowers,” Livvie continued, practically shoving them in my face. I thanked her and told Trish to go and ask the nurse for a vase.

“No need, they’re in a plastic thing of water already.” She cleared space on my locker and shoved the bouquet on it, it was as much as she could do to lift it. Simon appeared around the other side of my bed and pecked me on the cheek.

He’d been to see the ward sister for a progress report and he told me that they were satisfied with my progress but I’d likely be here for at least another two days. He also told me he’d cancelled the holiday and sent the camper van back.

I felt worse, now apart from this stupid illness in this stupid body, I felt guilty for wrecking the holiday. I began to cry, and he took my hand and squeezed it.

“Don’t be silly, babes, it’s not your fault–this sort of thing can happen to anyone at anytime. When you feel better, we’ll go for a holiday and you’ll have a real break.”

“I don’t want a break, I want to come home.”

“As soon as they say, I’ll be here to get you.”

“Promise?” I sniffed.

“Cross my heart,” he said and drew a cross on his chest.

I sniffed for a few moments, feeling very depressed as well as tired.

“I asked Stella to put together a case of stuff for you, so there’s a couple of nighties, slippers, toiletries and so on. I’ve also brought you a couple of magazines and your book–Sanctus–looks quite good.

The way I felt, even the Very Hungry Caterpillar would be beyond my comprehension, mind you I think it always was, but the kids enjoyed it.

They stayed for the whole of visiting time and much as I love them, I wanted them to go, I felt exhausted. I’ve never felt that before. Trish was disgusted that in trying to zap me, nothing happened. I tried to tell her that sometimes things happen for a purpose, my illness was possibly my body’s way of telling me I’d been overdoing it.

She couldn’t see my reasoning at all. “Mummy, illnesses like pewnomia are infections–zap them with antibiotics and you’re better.”

“There is a viral pneumonia too, sweetheart.”

“But you haven’t got that have you?”

“I don’t know,” please go, Trish, I’m knackered.

I tried pleading with Simon, but he was on chapter four of my book, I think and he left amusing me to his junior inquisitors, Trish-quemador and her assistant.

They did finally go and I told Simon to take the book with him. The way I felt I wouldn’t be able to read it anyway. He thought about it, then took it away with him. I was left reading the card from the whole household which everyone had signed. Apart from the scrawly writing of some, I could just about follow the plot of get well soon, before I fell asleep again.

I’d only just got comfortable and beginning to slip into the arms of Morpheus when a bloody nurse came round to check my temperature and take my blood pressure. No wonder it was high, I wanted to strangle her and was frustrated by knowing it was both illegal and unlikely–I didn’t have the strength to lift my arms let alone grab her round the throat.

Next interruption to my recovery plan by sleeping was tea. I was presented with a plate of scrambled eggs on toast and a dish of fruit and ice cream. Apparently the previous occupant of the bed ordered it. I told the nurse to send it on to them, but I’d drink the tea.

“Now, now, Mrs Cameron, you won’t get well by not eating–you need nourishment to fuel your recovery.”

I think I said, ‘bollocks’, or words to that effect and went back to sleep. However, things had been moving in mysterious ways and when Stella, Danny and Meems came to see that evening, they included a dish of soup made specially for me by David. It was still warm having been brought in a thermos–I managed to force that down along with the homemade bread that accompanied it.

They didn’t stay long, Stella recognised the symptoms of fatigue and left with the two kids. I fell asleep hoping I wasn’t a food snob as hospital food these days is usually quite good.