Seven weeks after they put a renal catheter in, in Zürich, they take it out in Newcastle.
Aaaaaaand they put in another one (AARGH DAMMIT). But that one will come out on Monday morning.
So, more blood, and yes it still hurts a bit, but now in a slightly different way, yeah yeah yeah.
You don't want to hear about this, but there's a string, and some tape, and I'm not supposed to take it off –
(I feel like a pull toy.)
The ward itself was – well – think of a vet's, where a bunch of faithful dogs are moping and whining and barking, and they have cones on their necks...
All guys, most in for less than a day, a bit restless, chairs, beds, listen to headphones or type things into a phone or look into space. And, like the guy who shared my room in the Zürich hospital, eager to do anything to get out.
(Hey, hey hey, c'n I go now? Huh? Huh? C'mon, c'n I go? Huh? Huh? Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeze?)
Honestly, I'm telling you: dogs. Friendly dogs, but... you know... perhaps guys concerned with such things are not at their most restrained or subtle.
Jumping up, begging, yelping: can I go home now?...
I was the same, to be honest. The first indication that, as soon as the needle in my hand was removed, I might be able to leave, and I was rummaging around and getting dressed...
even though, to be honest, it wasn't very easy. Yeah yeah they asked are you sure you're okay, of course I am...
I wanted out, just like the guy in Zürich.
The nurses had a complementary tone – a bit amused, not quite rolling their eyes, of course you want to leave, make sure you show up on Monday.
And the tape and string and all – DON'T do anything with it, just LEAVE it ALONE.
I MEAN it.
Do you HEAR ME?...
They didn't actually slap me on the rump when I left.