My hospital experience – from the desk of Candi’s freaking head

Okay so my first real more-than-a-day hospital experience finally came and went (well, almost…check-out is tomorrow, based on my good behaviour). If it weren’t for the pain, it would actually be such an entertaining event.

My ‘cellmate’ is a really rough Afrikaans, tattooed, 40-something year old woman with wild hair whose pastimes included snoring, grunting, and occasionally farting. If the curtain between us happens to part, she takes that as a cue to complain to me how badly run the hospital is and that she has diabetes and that and that and that. Absolutely charmed to have met her.

On the other side of the Nutter is a window to a beautiful garden filled with birds. 17000 birds that all start screeching at 4am and continue throughout the day, singing songs to the sick.

And while I am napping ever so lightly to the songs of screeching Indian Myner birds, I can rest assured that all the metal ware in the hospital is being cleaned vigorously by the staff, who are so happy to be doing that, that they clang the metal ware together in happy chants, as if they are the tap dogs of the hospital.

They do serve some nice tea, though, so I have heard. I asked for some last night when my vegetarian meal came as a beef casserole and decided to give up on explaining what ‘no meat’ meant. The problem was that I could not move to shift myself high enough to actually drink the tea and could not reach the nurse’s bell to get some help, so dinner was the fresh aroma of a nice steamy pot of tea.

My crazy friends have saved the day, though, promptly arriving during visiting hours to say inappropriate things really loudly (I hope my cellmate doesn’t beat me tonight) and to fill my cupboard with Lindt chocolate and Woolies goodies.

All jokes aside, I need to go prepare myself for a stranger to stick painkillers up my ass…again.

It’s been real.

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