LESLEY'S MIDNIGHT RAMPAGE...

As dawn broke on whatever number day it now was in hospital, it suddenly felt a little less like Groundhog Day than usual! New patients and cubical neighbours on the ward were arriving and I still had a load of new blood rushing round my body after the blood transfusion. I had a new nurse take blood from the back of my hand who didn't make me cry before breakfast, and I’d discovered a new dish on the hospital menu that was somewhat palatable. As well as being given some new signature hospital 'ugly' socks, which were super grippy and practical, but I would burn them as soon as I got home.  

“I bet today is going to be great!” I thought to myself. Although I had to start it with the usual bowl of dry bran flakes, my idea to pour water on them wasn't the brightest one. My logic being if almond milk was 97% water, me simply pouring water on them would only taste 3% different. But no, it was the epitome of sadness in a bowl and don't ever try it. 

Anyway- I'm meant to feel brand new now after my blood transfusion! But as I started to get ready for the day with my usual routine of spraying dry shampoo on my hair, having a bed bath with wet wipes and gassing myself with cheap impulse body spray to eclipse my cubical neighbours poo smells pouring over the curtain, I couldn't help but notice I suddenly felt the most lethargic, exhausted and emotional I'd felt in a long time. I started sobbing and I wasn't just being overdramatic about the bran flakes. I tried to make it on to the bedside chair and brush my hair, or look out the window, but I was like a robot that was powering down about to come to a complete stop. I was even blinking at half the speed and my thumbs would barely move to send a text!  

Then it hit me: they've given me the blood of a SLOTH. I'll never be able to ‘hurry’ or run away from anything again and I will now sleep for 23 hours a day for the rest of my life! And that's honestly all I wanted to do. That, and cry myself to sleep.

A nurse came in to do my checks, and I blubbered all over her but couldn't tell her why. She was called Joy and genuinely a real joy. She liked to paint in her spare time and showed me some of her work. She was truly talented! She also told me they had me down for another blood transfusion today. Great. As long as it wasn't the sloth’s brother's blood maybe I'd be OK… 

Gastric band lady was also leaving and she startled me by coming into my cubicle and lifting up her top to show me her war wounds. I didn't ask for this but maybe it's a compliment she felt comfortable enough around me as a fellow hospital friend to randomly show me her boobs. I always try to put people at ease and lend an ear, I just wasn't expecting such an eyeful in the process!  

(See what I mean about us all losing our filter in here?! No one cared anymore, and discussions of how constipated we all were was a daily conversation.) 

I told her she looked great but then she proceeded to offload all past traumas of her life in every horrific detail. I cried more sloth tears for her.

The energy lifted when the next lady arrived who looked a lot like my Nana used to, and she rocked up with a bag of Nando's at 10:00 AM in the morning. I like her already! I also prayed she didn't get food poisoning as eating last night's chicken in sauna-like stuffy hospital temperatures was a huge gamble. 

Speaking of gambling- had we hit the jackpot with Jan's new replacement? Enter Lesley! Almost 80, looking well for her age and she actually SMILED at me when they drew our curtains back! I complimented her on her eyebrows which was the first thing my sluggish sloth brain blurted out, and we had a nice little chat about eyebrow tinting. 

This was the first day I didn't actually have any visitors, so I was grateful for Freda (who was still here, bless her! The longest standing inmate out of us all) ‘Nando’s Nana’ as I've called her, and new girl Lesley. I was also grateful when the nurse came round and told me actually no, they weren't going to give me another blood transfusion. Just more laxatives. I never thought I'd be in a scenario in life where laxatives were considered a favourable option above anything else. Like in a game of ‘This or That’. 

The following day consisted of more sobbing uncontrollably out of nowhere and constant naps. Weak, lethargic, still in pain- I began to wonder if there was something in the air. 

Apparently so, as the nurses randomly came round to swab us because “an infection” had broken out on the ward… MRSA. I didn't want to know the details and I definitely wasn't going to Google it, but next minute they were swabbing us all in the nose, armpits and groin. (Thankfully in that order, you'll be pleased to know.)  

Morale was low that day as the fear started creeping in for us all. Who was the culprit? Who was the infected one? My eyes darted round the ward suspiciously, like they would if I was in a lift with someone who just farted. Lesley seemed a shadow of her former self but you could say the same about me as I sobbed into my pot of artificially flavoured Jelly. We all called it a night early as the lights went out, apart from the many annoying emergency ones, and I tried to drift off into a happier place. Until Lesley suddenly sprung into action: 

“FREDA!!” she yelled. GET ME OUT OF HERE! LET ME OUT THE BACK DOOR!” 

“Erm, you are not at home Lesley, there is no back door. You're in hospital” she replied nervously. 

“You're lying!” She screamed. “You're all in on this! They killed a man and they're going to kill us all too!” 

And with that, she got out of her bed, ripped out all her drips and stormed Freda’s cubical, convinced she had a key to let her out. She then got increasingly more aggressive towards her. Poor Freda was paralysed with fear. She begged her to go back to her bed and tried to reason with her, but it was no use. Lesley thought we were all holding her captive and would all ultimately kill her. 

I was very much awake at this point, frantically pressing my call button so one of the nurses would swoop in and help Freda, but they were nowhere to be seen! Where is everyone? Then- 

“WATCH OUT SOPHIE- SHE’S COMING FOR YOU!!” Freda shouted. 

And sure enough, the shadow behind my curtain grew larger as she staggered closer and began ruffling along the fabric to find the opening. Oh shit. I had my phone in my hand as I'd just been texting my dad the latest dramas and to maybe say a final goodbye in case Lesley throttled me.  

Play dead Sophie!! Just like in Jurassic Park. If I don't move, the T-rex won't see me! I immediately dropped my phone on my chest as though I'd fallen asleep mid-text. I squinted one eye open and sure enough, she was in my cubicle, staggering around. She tried to get out of the window but to no avail, as it was already propped open to the maximum by a bedpan. 

“Play dead, play dead, play dead!” I chanted in my head.  

Then THUD- She plonked herself down on my bed, on my good leg! Holy crap, imagine if she sat on my bad one? That didn't bear thinking about! I was very much eyes wide open now… Keep calm! Reason with her. 

“Sophie, you've got a daughter haven't you?” 

“Ermm no Lesley, but I am a daughter myself…” I was wondering where this was going. 

“Well where's my daughter? We need to escape! Tell me where she is!!” She demanded, pounding her fist on my bed, dangerously close to my broken leg. (Think fast Sophie!) 

“She’s…Over there? Down the hallway.” I motioned. Implying as far away from me as possible, hoping she'd go there. 

“You…” She sneered, leaning into my face. “You're in on this! You're one of them! Tell me who's in charge here! Who is it?” 

“I. DON’T. KNOW. LESLEY! That is a good question!” I shout-whispered, jabbing my thumb on my call button with every syllable. Praying someone would come. Praying Lesley didn't become even more aggressive. And sweet Jesus- please don't let her sit on my bad leg! For the first time in my life I realised I couldn't run away. I couldn't escape. That was the most terrifying feeling. Like the reoccurring nightmare I’ve had over the years where I try to run away from danger but I’m not actually moving. It's an inbuilt survival mode for us to run! Or even simply move away from that person who farted. But right now, I was well and truly stuck.