O the craic was moighty
in St Michael's Ward.
After a nutritious intravenous breakfast of benzylpenicillin I enjoyed a good morning of rest in a quiet corner of A&E. Little did I know that I would badly need it...
Had a spot of lunch and was then informed that they had found a bed for me in the orthopedics ward (I pictured a room full of pedants doing orthography contests and I instinctively knew that I would fit right in).
I was asked if I wanted to be transfered in my bed or in a wheel chair. I offered to walk but they would have none of that, for insurance reasons.
In that case, I opted to be transferred in my bed and I asked if I could be taken to the cafeteria downstairs on the way, the convenience shop, the chapel and the gym. They did not slap me, for insurance reasons.
I was in the end wheeled up to St Michael's ward by a weak and wheezy porter in his sixties and I felt very uncomfortable about it, my natural instinct was that the roles should definitely be reversed...
Now, the A&E at Vincent's is in the bright airy modern wing that was opened when Ireland still had money and Mary Harney (vade retro!) had not yet been admitted into an exclusive rehab clinic in the Bahamas.
St Michael's ward on the other hand, is at the top of the old building and I knew that I was in for a treat and would get to live the Golden Age Irish Hospital Experience, with a shared toiled for 6 rooms of 5 beds (2 cubicles for women, 1 for men - in an effort to redress the blatant injustice that prevails everywhere else in the world when it comes to cubicle/gender ratio).
My arrival did not seem to generate a very high level of enthusiasm among the lads.
James (not in the picture) was slowly sipping on a glass of orange juice, John-the-Screamer was gone, probably screaming elsewhere - in radiology would be my guess (ARHHH, the pain! the pain! the pain! oh jeezus! THE PAIN! nurse! nurse! nurse! the pain of the x-ray!!!!).
John-the-Quiet and Philip were just chilling, enjoying a lovely rest in the afternoon sun rays after their afternoon squash game.
Mrs Raheny had packed a pair of ear plugs in the emergency bag that she had brought me the previous night. They had up till then not been necessary.
My instinct told me that they were now my most valuable possession.
Soundtrack: as this picture was taken, Lou Reed was singing "Hey Honey, take a walk on the wild side" on James' radio. This is not a word of a lie. This is how I will always remember it.