I've just left Snoopy looking decidedly hacked off with life. After yesterday's debacle, we got up at stupid o'clock, having been instructed to report back to Ward 8 at 7.30am. Neither of us could imagine how Ward 8 might have acquired an extra bed between 5pm on a Sunday night and 7.30am on a Monday morning, unless they were expecting to lose someone. S rang the ward who indeed had no new bed so we were sent to Ward 4 instead. It was rather a long walk and while he sat down to recover, I introduced us to the rather dense looking girl who claimed to be the ward sister. "Mr Snoopy?" she said. "Isn't there someone famous called Mr Snoopy??"
"Yes, this is he," I replied. She was overcome. A "Robin" came to see us. He was older than God and introduced himself: "Hello Fido , I'm Jimmy."
"Hello, Jimmy, I'm Snoopy," said Snoopy. Jimmy continued to call him Fido for some time but kindly directed us to "Arrivals". They assured us that S was first on the list and sure enough, Jimmy appeared in Arrivals at 7.50 with a surgery gown and pair of paper knickers. I left him to it.
S and I conversed via text and later phone until approximately 11.45am, by which time he was fed up and unfed, but as they couldn't get the insulin and glucose drip into a suitable vein, he could also have been hypo-ing.
I rang Ward 4 at 4 for news. He had just gone down to theatre and was not returning to Ward 4 but going to Intensive Care afterwards, they said. I phoned Intensive Care at 6. They'd never heard of him. Everyone on Ward 4 had gone home they said, and S appeared to have been lost somewhere in the hospital. Eventually, a very nice cleaner called Denise located him for me. He was on Ward 8 where presumably, they had done away with someone to find a space for him. I went to see him. He was in a bed with "Mr Dog" written in a neat printed hand on the board behind his bed together with a notice prohibiting the use of mobile phones. They had lost his luggage. Also, they had lost his medication. I took him some grapes, which he ate gleefully, having eaten nothing else all day and trekked off down to Ward 4 in search of his luggage. Ward 4 was heaving with activity as the staff were desperately trying to send everyone home in order to close for the night. The luggage was in the sister's office there - presumably she still thought he was someone famous. She said she'd take his notes up there when she has the time.
I have absolutely no idea how long he will be there, but he looks rather uncomfortable with two tubes sticking out of his prick (take away the pain and leave the swelling, I thought) and as he is attached to a drip at the top end and a collecting bag at the other, I guess he is somewhat immobile.
SNAFU
