I was determined to write a short post today, documenting the journey so far. The fact that I have not done so may be down to how damnably busy being in hospital keeps you, or it may just be that I am lacking energy for other reasons,
I was always brought up with the mistaken conviction that fresh air, good company and conversation, and plenty of good, wholesome food was the way to good health.
Now, on a hospital ward, Covid limits the prospect of healthy exercise and fresh air. And fair enough, the company you get on a tiny ward with half a dozen mixed cases can be excellent, mediocre or overpowering. One of those things.
But something as basic as the comfort of good food should be possible.
Even hot food might be nice.
Or something toothsome, tasty or even hot…
But heigh ho… we can’t be greedy. It is a lot to ask a company paid a few meagre millions to feed a whole hospital on hot food. Some of it even resembles what is on the menu, for goodness sake!
As long as you are not much of a cook, or an eater.
And, where visitors once picked up any slack with home baked treats, sneaky chocolates and trips to the canteen … Covid has knocked all of those off the menu, including visits from your nearest and dearest. Unless you happen to be at end of life.
So, most of my healing calories come from the pill pots that contain a cocktail of painkillers enough to down a small army, but which have ceased to touch the jaw and shoulder pain tonight . Bugger .