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Wednesday, 23 December 2009

Welcome to E14

Admission was always going to be unsettling. Clare and I entered Ward E14 with bags and, for me at least, that now familiar note of fear.

Clare sat on the chair next to the bed and I lay on the bed in civilian clothes. Trying to hang on to my identity until I have to relinquish it. Waves of anxiety break around me, but because Clare is there, and because I have recently been in a similar ward in the same hospital even this small familiarity is a comfort.

I have noticed, in the last year, that each different ward has its own mini culture. This one has a feeling of being on the front line, much more than the last one I was in. There is more meticulous checking, questioning, and note taking.

Because I have come in early for a blood transfusion before the operation, it becomes clear that I'm going to have to get into my pyjamas. I reluctantly get changed and emerge in the unmistakable uniform of a patient.

The time for Clare's inevitable leaving came and I hugged her goodbye. I was left to contemplate my new surroundings - E14

The area I'm in is the red area. There are 6 beds, each is provided with a privacy curtain. The design of this curtain is made from various Nottingham locations of note.

I am in bed Red 1.

Red 2 is occupied by a man called Frank, an older man, sporting tight green socks.
Red 3 is obscured by his curtain and sounds a bit like radio 4

Red 4 is a man called Steven who is also obscured by his curtain, and spends a lot of time shouting.

Red 5 is a Russian man who seems to have trouble with his legs and likes to clown about, although in repose his face looks quite un-funny.

Red 6 is an older man with long flowing hair and a London accent.

So here we all are in our strange little worlds of pain and flesh. I am really tired and I have to stop now. Tomorrow is the big day, and if I think about I will crumble.

Tomorrow my colon really will come to a fullstop.


  1. This post has been put on by Clare on 23rd although it is about events on 22nd. Roger is writing when he can from his hospital bed and sending the blog to the outside world on a memory stick.

  2. All sounds a bit like the red arrows. AS in Red1 and Red 2.


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