Ward six, floor six. And the only ward that matches it's floor according to the porter who pushed me in here. Not sure I can handle layout logic just now.
'Cause I'm all over the place. I have no idea what's being pushed into me via the drip lines now but one of them's got some odd gadget that's either trying to make sure that either a certain dose of whatever's released or it's trying to physically pump it into me 'cause I can't/won't accommodate it. Either way, it's doing what it's doing at 100ml per hour.
I'm being overwhelmed by technology.
I'm tired.
Fish tank accessory's still going every 15 for my pressure, got an oversized paperclip on my finger, ECG 'trodes are pulling, hose to the drain's pulling, can't move my arms for the four IV lines that are still plugged in there and to cap it all, it looks like a combination of high-purity oxygen, sweat and tears makes for a corrosive lining to an oxygen mask.
I hurt and I've had enough. I drift.
And I look at the clock on the wall over the nurses' station and it reads 10:05. Dark outside so it has to be the night after the morning before.
Some instinct make Sue, the duty nurse look over at me. See looks at the drain bottle, checks my pressure, pluse (I've twigged that much of the monitor by now, it's 135), sats (twigged that too - got an oxygen saturation level of 82%), takes my temperature, drops back to the station and picks the 'phone up.
Brief conversation.
Comes back, smiles and tells me that I've stopped bleeding, they don't need me in OR. Offers me a cup of coffee and I realise that since this whole thing started, I haven't been able to eat or drink.
Coffee ? Hell, yes.
Never tasted anything quite like that coffe.
I can go to sleep now.
