The 22nd of February.
My body feels like a wreck. I barely slept last night, with things hurting that I didn’t know were affected. My brain is on fire because I am hurtling through multiple scenarios of what the next six months might be. I daren’t think much further ahead.
I watched Sunday Brunch and other things while I worked on Benedict. I’ve got very little of him left to do no because I’ve worked so solidly.
I have nothing to say. I am so exhausted and so desperate for it to be tomorrow, I just need them to do something. I will go in there myself and force them to see me and the mess I’ve become if that’s what is necessary.
The 23rd of February.
Back in the QE. Inevitably.
I was woken by Nicola ringing to see how I was, so I told her how my life was essentially ruined and she promised to ring back once she had seen Ram.
We waited all morning, and having heard nothing by lunchtime, we decided to ring back to find out what was going on. Ram had arrived and gone straight to a meeting so was unavailable, so Nicola was waiting for Sandeep to finish on the phone so she could talk to her. By two, I was getting really stressed so I decided we should just go to clinic so someone would physically see the distress I was in.
However, on the way there, I had a phone call from Igor, King of Specialist Regs. He’d heard what was going on and decided to admit me and he’d take the line out in the morning. So we turned the car around, stopped at M&S to pick me up some dinner and went home to pack a bag.
Now here I am in a bay on 625. I’m having IV antibiotics tonight and tomorrow morning, then Igor will take the line out after ward round. I’ve managed to latch onto the TCT wifi so I will be watching Broadchurch no matter what!