There is a thin line between sleep and wakefulness in a hospital. The constant rounds of the nurse every few hours make it impossible to have a straight seven to eight hours sleep.It is like being in an airport. You might find a spot to nap but you long for home. When you are outside your home and sleep deprived, nothing brings as much comfort as the thought of your own bed.
Lolo manages cat naps. I keep awake. Sleep is last on my mind. In our room, we have a small DVD player, plenty of movies and a book of crosswords too. There is plenty to do but little energy. Lolo watched a movie today and I finished a book. In between, we took turns at crossword, something we normally do when one of us gets stuck! Would have been so much easier if we could relieve physical pains together, that ways it is collective onus.
But there is one reason why hospitals are hospitals. It is a place where you expect the unexpected. Sometimes there could be three or four hours of no tension and one moment, a fever crops up or a blood pressure rises or skin allergy erupts and you are brought back to that feeling of an unexplained fear. Although that fear is accompanied by a sense of consolation because you know you are in the hands of very able doctors and nurses, who leave no stone unturned when it comes to care.
Strangely, I like to be be cooped up in Room 12 A. I have found a cosy chair to sit, read, type and look out at the amazing view outside the window. The other eye is always on Lolo. I have my teas coming in whenever I want and that is all I want really. Sometimes when I do feel peckish, I go down to the cafe and have my favourite, fattening tortellini. Times becomes a drag only when I am waiting for results. When it comes to being with Lolo, every minute spent is worth it.