Something in the Air

Jan 17 2010

Never in my life has a week dragged on in the same way that this week has done. For ten days now, Camille has been practically restricted to her bed twenty four hours a day.......

Never in my life has a week dragged on in the same way that this week has done. For ten days now, Camille has been practically restricted to her bed twenty four hours a day due to the temporary external drain taking the excess brain fluid into a bag situated by her bed. On top of this, Hayley is now getting back into work and is going to be in the office for two days each week. This means that between us, we have been in hospital without adult conversation and a pretty bored Camille all week.

Tick tock, tick tock.

It gets worse. Not only are we a man down all day, due to some nasty illnesses, visitors are not allowed on the ward and this includes siblings. This means that when Lucia comes to the hospital she has to meet Camille in the public concourse like a family member visiting their convicted sister.

Tick tock, tick tock.

This does mean that I have had to find my inspiration from other sources this week. Before I divulge, there has been a couple of nice little moments on the ward this week.  Camille is able to have her drain turned off for an hour or so each day, so just to keep her muscles growing and to keep her in practice, we take the opportunity to get her walking around the ward. However, normally Camille wants to hold both hands to aid her stability but with only one of us in situ and a wheeled stand to push, she’s had to attempt the excursion one handed. So off we trotted, Camille leading the way. As we reached the end of the corridor and turned to face down the length of the ward like an aircraft taxiing to the end of a runway, we saw Amos down at the far end talking with a colleague. “Dooocccctttttooorrrrrrrrrr AAAAAAAmmmmmmooossssssss”, came the little voice in front of me. Camille had spotted our friendly consultant and desperately wanted him to notice her big girl walking. Again she bellowed “DDDDDDDDOOOOOOOOOCCCCCCCCTTTTTTTOOOOOORRRRRRRRRR AAAMMMMMOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS”. At this point he did turn to see what all the kafuffle was about and they towards each other like a scene from a from a romantic movie.

A day later, Camille and I were back out on the “streets” and once again performed our tricky rotation at the top end of the ward. As we looked back down the C2 stretch we saw another one of Camille’s favourite doctors, Gill. “DDDooooooooccccctttttorrrrrrrrrrrrrrr Giiiiiiiiiiiiiiyyyyyyyyyyyyyaaaaalllllllllllllll” she screamed in a rather powerful Suffolk accent. The extra syllable added to Gill’s name was unmistakeable and in embarrassment that my daughter could sound so East Anglian, I responded with “Come on Camillle, back to your room”.

I did manage to get out and about once last week and had a nice train journey into London to make me want to be sick. Yes, the direct speedy train from Ipswich to Liverpool Street is direct and yes, it is speedy, but my word it rocks. Left the right, left then right, left then right, all the way to the Smoke. The guy sitting opposite me was clearly under the impression that soon, the thin table separating us and perhaps his finely pressed suit would be decorated in the latte that I had purchased and consumed before boarding the train. Luckily I didn’t, but after I had shoe-horned my way onto the Central Line the urge to “blow chunks” came flooding back. All I could see was the back of someone’s head and the right cheek of a brutish, angry looking man. If someone was going home with a messy appearance I would have put my money on the poor unsuspecting commuter facing away from me.

Before I boarded the train at Ipswich I was looking around the platform and noticed an amazing use of the exclamation mark, it was everywhere. Now the people who created these signs and made up these phrases have utilised that little symbol for a reason and yet, I don’t think we pay it enough attention or any attention at all. An example was in the Upper Crust café; a particular type of baguette was simply called “Breakfast!”  Now if you were to order said baguette, you’d probably just say “I’d like one of those err Breakfasts please”, wouldn’t you? It’s called “Breakfast!” for a reason isn’t it? Perhaps we should do more? Perhaps we should at least offer a little air punch in conjunction with the words; maybe even a little raised clench fist would do the job. I looked up, “Eat and go!”  the message read, “Yeah” my fist clenched in the air. Outside, a sign for a West End show stated “The Best Show Ever!” “Yeah” my fist punched the air again. This was making me feel great. I decided there and then to mention it this week in the blog, perhaps I can start a revolution, an appreciation for the over use of the exclamation mark. This time next month I want to see people reading signs everywhere, punching the air in delight at the sight of our friend the exclamation mark.

Once I’d got over that the rest of the week was pretty normal. I took Lucia swimming again this morning, displaying my ever expanding waistline to all in attendance. As I launched myself into the pool I looked up expecting to see Rainbow Warrior warding off any potential harpoon yielding hunters away from my blubberous form. The only incident worth mentioning was Lucia’s diving capabilities. The session started with Lucia jumping in feet first ; ten minutes later she was jumping into the pool perfectly horizontally like a crazed Superfly Jimmy Snukka, landing perfectly flat against the water making a loud smacking sound as her flesh (all of her flesh) made contact with the water. “Lucia, you’re going to hurt yourself” I pleaded. “No I won’t” she replied as she climbed up for another go.