Bay Watch 10

Bulletin 10: Saturday 1st May 2010

It is 7.40am, and all is calm. A nurse is doing something with my left arm, and I am about to witness something straight out of 'Casualty'.

A nurse, who has obviously been monitoring a bank of screens just down the corridor, rushes in, points at the monitor above George's bed, and screams 'George!' Audio alarms start sounding, and I swear that within ten seconds ten nurses and one doctor have appeared out of the woodwork. Curtains are hurriedly drawn, and I can see tears in two of the nurses' eyes. A green-uniformed doctor takes command and barks orders, and another doctor arrives with a defibrillator. Five seconds later a robotic American accent commands 'please stand clear of the apparatus'. The doctor simply says, 'stand clear.' A few seconds' pause. 'He's back,' says the doctor. Sighs of relief all round, and the nurses disperse, less than 50 seconds after the drama started, leaving the doctor to spend a good ten minutes filling in the appropriate paperwork. As George receives treatment during the rest of the day each nurse says, 'You gave us a bit of a fright this morning, George. You won't do it again, will you?' George replies like a naughty schoolboy, 'I'll try not to. I didn't mean to.' I reflect on the great sense of reassurance I'm experiencing after watching this amazingly brief scene of professionalism, teamwork and discipline. George is to have a defibrillator implanted into his left shoulder on Friday.

Being wired up is cramping my style. This is the first time I've experienced a catheter. I can imagine that it is a useful device, especially if you're out on a pub crawl, since you have absolutely no sensation of passing fluid.

John's amoebic intellectual level was confirmed today. When George asked us – bless him – whether he had disgraced himself during the night, John replied, 'No problem, mate. We just got worried every half hour or so when you kept shouting 'It's your turn on top again.'' Peasant.

Management brings me some sobering news from those who operated on me. They've now had a chance to look at the three arteries they've by-passed. I've been walking on a time-bomb for the last decade. One artery was 50% blocked, and the other two were 95% blocked. Lots of 'what ifs..' spring to mind. I hope the world is prepared for me when the effects of the operation wear off and my motor's fuel-injection system improves from 5% to something much closer to 100%. My God, I'll be running weekly marathons if I'm not careful.

Sunday 2nd May
I've now been taken off monitoring and my catheter has been removed. Freedom at last. Another patient arrives to fill the fifth bed on the other side of George. An old peasant who looks like a weasel and deserves the company of Ted and John. My guess is that he is a pimp. He looks decidedly shifty; I wouldn't trust him any farther than I can throw David Howard.