Notes From Ward 21

Sunday 18/09/11

Leeds General Infirmary – Ward 21, Bed 26

11:30

There is a red folder on the wheeled table

this is my story

the nurses, the doctors

they come by

they read it

they add to it

they hit me with hammers

ask me why I'm here

ask me if my bowels have been opened

bend my legs, my arms

smile, tell me it's not too bad

write in the red folder

my story

then they are gone

and I look out of the window.

 

11:42

“Nurse!”

Frightened old men, we

“NURSE!”

The young, patient women

they putter around us

cleaning up vomit

and the rest

“NURSE!”

I used to work in a kennels

there were quiet dogs

there were loud dogs

we walked them

we fed them

we cleaned their mess

and took their bites

today is Sunday

and I am feeling like a quiet dog

 

13:40

The concrete towers

the spires and hospital roofs

caked thick with bird shit

and the city's grime

I sit here with Ken

and the city shows us its bald spot

Ken is choking on his own lungs

my left arm is numb, clumsy

I sit here with Ken

as our bodies succumb to the realities of time and entropy

the city peers in

through our grime caked window

busy, complicated, unaffected

 

14:25

Ken's wife is visiting

asking him questions

telling him stories

Ken doesn't know what day it is

he gurgles out answers

chokes and pukes

and she responds with the same level tone with which she just recounted how cousin Jean really enjoyed her lamb shank last night

I need that steely will

maybe it comes from having babies

I wonder if they have kids

I wonder if Ken remembers

 

16:55

Dozing whilst waiting for my dinner

I listen to them try to put a feeding tube into Ken's stomach

through his nose

he keeps choking and puking

“Nice big swallow for me!”

Ken gasps for breath

“Nice big swallow!”

Ken gets his dinner before me

My evening is about to get a lot worse

 

Wednesday 21/09/11

13:05

“Hey, pal”

“Hey?”

“What's that guy called? That doc I was just talking with?”

“I don't know”, I smile “I've talked to him at least four times and I still don't know his name”

“ I know, they always tell you at the start, but...”

“We could do with a chart on the wall with names and faces. Then, when they ask which doctor talked to you, you could just point at the chart.” 

We get a lot of interested parties on Ward 21

we generally have to guess their rank by how casual their clothes are

or the ratio of information asked to information given 

Our lives tend to consist of extended periods of unnatural stability. When upheaval comes, it is shocking, unsettling (obviously), disorienting. The mind clenches its teeth and holds out for calm. There is a natural tendency to accept, grasp, cling to the next stable reality which we are offered. We can only be happy if given the means and possibility of accurately predicting what may come next.

 

Thursday 22/09/11 13:48

Yesterday they were falling over themselves to get me onto this trial. The paperwork said that there would be no change in my care. Before signing up, I got my asprin with breakfast. It is now an hour after lunch and I have yet to be offered any anti-platelets.

 

Saturday 24/09/11

08:48

Nice

kind

friendly

caring

sociable

pointless

functional

playing the game

not touching the stove

 

08:50

Ken moved out and Steve moved in

Steve was a big drinker

big smoker

that's what they said

I think I drank more than him

but I don't smoke

so we're even

Steve moved out

Last night they brought in John

as I was finishing my walk

He's frightened

confused

alone

in denial?

“what have you given me?!”

The rest of the room is on heavy painkillers

I feel the need to be the welcoming party

My family and friends are coming round later

I don't want anyone to see me here

I wonder what John's friends will be like

 

09:12

Sat here like a bearded ponce

reading Bukowski

Googling “anti platelets” and “ sanatorium”

it's nearly time to shuffle to the shower

 

09:25

John is singing under his breath

sounds like “ We Are the Champions”

Yes we are, John

yes we are

Now: “We Will Rock You”

he couldn't tell the nurses his name

or what year it is

but he can whisper a mean Freddie Mercury

Brian May was (and is) an astrophysicist

no person is as they first appear

 

09:45

If your intention is to write:

you should read

unless you are already very good

N.B. You are not already very good

 

13:28

John is rude and mental (the bad kind)

 

21:37

I am almost completely convinced

John will try to kill Alex in his

sleep tonight

or me

hopefully not me

I'd much prefer to be the hero

of this piece

rather than victim

Sleeping in the same room with a frightened, hostile, cornered animal

a new adrenaline sport

is this what jail is like?

Sleep tight, lads

 

Sunday 25/09/11

 07:47

John made it to the door

then ran out of hand supports

now he's sitting in Ryan's chair

being creepy, next to Ryan

Alex was vomiting when I woke up

I looked over, and John was sat on the side of his own bed

watching

I thought I saw a smile

 

08:38

I have a bookmark

a rooftop scene of Oxford University

lots of points directed straight at the sky

My hospital window shows mostly flat roofs

modern, contemporary

the only points are the churches

why did ancient architects want to point at the sky so much?

“We bring glory to God by making a stick and jabbing Him with it.”

If I had a god, I would build it a bouncy castle

and a giant sponge

so that he/she/it might be able to wash itself

that would be my love

(what about the chimneys and mobile network transmitters?)

 

09:09

Marla

Marla is our fault

our selfish vanity

somebody saw a cat and wanted a 'best of' compilation

Stupid fucks

 

In-breeding took her straight walk

and her good sense

and her ability to breathe inconspicuously

Marla is what happens when you try to capture and control beauty

'the law of unintended consequences'

She is brave

she is beauty

she is bones and fluff

she is our fault

Stupid fucks

Marla, I'm sorry

 

12:45

The nurses are spooning ice cream

into John's face

then he leans and regurgitates on the floor

“You can't do that!”

well he just did

John should be on a psychiatric ward

stroke

or no stroke

he can't function

he looks sad and scared

I wish I could be so honest

 

12:52

My slippers have ears

my slippers have eyes

my books have teeth

our beds have wheels

 

16:15

Barry is loud this afternoon

“Hairbrush! Fuckin' hairbrush!”

pause

“Bastards! FUCKIN' BASTARDS!”

Nurse: “What's going on? What do you want, Barry?”

“Hairbrush!”

pause

“BASTARDS!”

 

Monday 26/09/11

They came in the night

swapped out Ryan for Dominic

said Dominic was 'high risk'

needed the bed

Ryan's supposed to be going home anyway

so they moved him to Ward 90

“Where the fuck is Ward 90?”

Dominic was young too

he couldn't see

I think it must have been a recent thing

stroke?

We all complained

then tried to sleep

I woke to Alex's cries:

“Get the Hell off him!”

Dominic had attacked John

slashed his face

So they swapped Dominic for Mr Mistry

Apparently all you need to do to get a private room is physically assault another patient

John shouldn't even be on this ward

he's been here over two days

but there's no doctors at the weekend

so he just gets the nurses shouting at him

to eat and drink and shit and take his medication

now his face is cut

this is healthcare

I need to go home

I don't want to be a vandalised

bus stop

nobody saw it happen

but everyone sees the glass

as they walk or drive past

on the way to a job they hate

 

10:45

They are trying to fit John with a canula

he's not here

or can't get here from there

they talk slower and repeat

“just relax, just one second”

in my mind, John is me

and I am John, projecting outside of his body

mind, fear

like drugs

finding a way to separate

put things at arms length

or into another bed

is John my Tyler Durden?

or am I his?

Comments

[A Facebook User]

http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10150511095896161&set=a.255566531160.147595.651746160&type=1&theater

grimy leeds window...from bed 26 ward 21 lgi

http://a3.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/428274_10150511082036161_651746160_9239205_39750160_n.jpg

from my bed

[Dr David Coddingsteine]

Thanks for the links to your photos. Quite evocative. They certainly
bring back memories. Bad memories, but memories nonetheless.
I won't say that I hope you are well, because I realise that this would
be a rather stupid thing to say to anybody who finds themselves in
residence on Ward 21 for any length of time. Let's just say this: I
hope that your prognosis is as close to what you wish as is possible.
Stay strong.

[A Facebook User]

http://endlessloafing.blogspot.com/

you'll be able to tell i think your observations are bang on. There was a guitarist in one of the side room sand I read them to him while he played. I could see his brainwaves on a screen.
A bit jittery I thought
The next day he was gone.
(I walked backwards to ward 24 to find him
Far easier that way. Retropulsion it's called.
Like a Polanski movie. He was there and we decided to record your writing with music. Just Ward chat)

[A Facebook User]

having said that
i haven't seen him since

[Dr David Coddingsteine]

A spoken word recording over music could be quite interesting. Perhaps with the beeping of a heart monitor and the continuous clinking of tea mugs to add the right atmosphere.
I looked up retropulsion. I find the idea intriguing, although I imagine that it's not much fun having to resort to walking backwards to get around.
I'm glad to see by your blog that you are out of that place again. It's nice to have somebody confirm that what I perceived was not imagined. My stay certainly blew away much of my naive imaginings of what it's like to be 'cared' for in a hospital.

[A Facebook User]

i have impulse control issues. Immediately logged onto Amazon and bought a

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Zoom-H1-with-2GB-card/dp/B003Y6S2WU/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1328381046&sr=8-1

I have half an hour of ambient beeping clinking and screaming to remind me. The quality is quite good but you need to watch out for handling noise.
My very good friend who is a studio manager (sound engineer) on Radio 4 (non-sport, non-drama, non-news) has one. We recorded a thunderstorm from inside a tent at Appletreewick.

D-Day +1: The Singing Detective on BBC 4. Dennis Potter is a very clever and funny man....

[A Facebook User]

oops...sounds like a bought a recorder after your comment. no. i bought it last week

[Dr David Coddingsteine]

Sounds like a cool piece of kit. I like the idea of recording a thunder storm; they have such a singular sort of intense atmosphere which always makes me feel really awake and aware – great fun. The closest that I have come to dabbling in any sound recording recently was playing around with speech-recognition, dictation apps on my iphone. The results were surreal, and quite charming. There were patches of accurate transcription mixed with utter gibberish. The technology has a way to go yet.