So the latest update- guess
what! I broke my leg...or
should I say Austrian Beer and Dodgy Curbs did. As I type this I've been in
hospital for 82 Hours 37 Minutes and
I'm gonna say 28 seconds. But hey-
who's counting HA HA HA. Welcome to
the most exciting week of my life.
After snowboarding everyday for 2 months I ended up fracturing my tibia...by...
falling
down
a
curb.
Yep. The concrete is my enemy. Not the crocodiles I used to
wrestle, or the trees I used to climb for a living, or the table dancing I
normally do after a beer or two, or the COUNTLESS
OTHER RIDCULOUS, DANEROUS AND DOWNRIGHT STUPID THINGS I DO . BUT- A PIECE OF THE PATH THAT EVEN
BLOODY CHILDREN CONCURE EVERYDAY.
 |
| nutritious hospital diet |
So, consequently, I've landed myself a week long stay in the
lovely Graz Hospital (check in was easy- though picky
booking requirements, staff were friendly, toilets were basic, food was
satisfactory, would recommend) where I have three meals a day, a
roof over my head and an accompaniment of the smell of farts with every meal.
Be careful what you wish for because this time last month I had just become
homeless and this time about two weeks ago I slept in a Wild Bean Cafe at a
service station...
So hospital isn't too bad. I've never even stepped foot in
one since I was carried out of one in February of 1995. I'm getting waited on,
the nurses keep offering me drugs and stroking my foot as they walk past- for
some people that's a fantasy they'd pay for! Maybe not the daily belly
injection though...but the nurses are lovely. I'm in a 6 bed room, and it's no
Hilton- but it's not too bad. My roomates are... well. How can I put this?
Old.
Really.
Really.
Old.
Combined between the four of us, our age, by a guess, far
exceeds 400 (bearing in mind, I'm 24). I wonder if Brothers Grimm stayed here for their inspiration for the
gingerbreadhouse hag in Hansel and Gretal...or Bill Shakespeare for Macbeth... Roahl Dohl must've stayed here for inspiration for his book Charlie
And The Chocolate Factory. No wait- I mean The Witches. One of the dears has
made me her new target to talk to- I mean- at. After politely telling her I
can't speak German- she still mumbles away at me/ the room. It's even better
when she has her false teeth in- throw a lisp into it and it's so much more...
theraputic. At least she's quiet at night and doesn't snore....ha. ha. ha. .
I can even feel myself getting so old, the krankenhaus is
draining the life out of me, or the old biddies are sucking youth from me like
a Dementor sucks souls. I'm almost half expecting a vampire-eske(but more
toothless) encounter at midnight and likewise wake up looking like the worst
side of a raisin.
 |
| greetings from graz |
I'm already noticing when the cleaning man has a busy day
because he's 15 minutes late, and that whenever they serve midday tablet- lunch
will come 30 minutes later. I look forwards to my 7.30 breakfast of bread and
jam and my 9.07 shower, 10.15 drip followed by a 11am visit by the paper man.
Next thing I'll be upset when the free weekly newspaper is late, or when they
neighbours have bad parking, or when someone is cutting hedgerows that don't
belong to them... OR WHEN THE BITCH IN THE BED NEXT TO
YOU GETS A BANANA WITH LUNCH AND I GOT STUCK WITH A FLACID PEACH.
But hey- it's not as if I'm the only one in my room who
isn't using a bedpan- right? Cause hearing old ladies shit themselves every
hour really adds the cherry on top of this otherwise oh-so-memorable
experience.
 |
| a couple of tummy bruises from my favourite part of the day |
I got here on Wednesday (now it is Saturday). I came in
expecting to hear if I needed an operation on my leg and if so, when it's
scheduled for...I did not expect to be laying on a bed being pushed around the
hospital within an hour of arriving with an operation expected within the next
24h.
"GREAT- OVER AND DONE WITH" - My thoughts
Well, not quite. Basically my foot was so swollen that my
operation got delayed until the Friday.
"No worries, I'll be out before the end of the weekend!"
Nope, wrong again.
Turn out that my foot is pretty swollen meaning that they can't operate. So as
they bring me my breakfast on Friday morning I question it- because I'm not
allowed to eat or drink before the op...
"No, eating is no problem. You operation is on the 13th"
That was on the 10th. THE
TENTH... welllllllllllllllllll
this weekend is gonna be a big one! Saturday Night- bed by 9.30pm, don't
need alcohol to have a good time just pass me that drip and sound of German
snoring to fulfil my social needs!
Thank god for Dennis bringing me a simcard, a book, my
laptop and most importantly some snacks. So until Monday (and beyond) I am
surrounded by these same seafoam green walls, gentle waft of methane, needles
in my stomach and the lovely ladies of room E-237. Now- if you'll excuse me- I
have a high score on Solitare to beat.
Belly Injections to
date: 6
Drips I've been on:
8
Bedtime: 9-10pm
Times the lady next
to me shits everyday: about 10
No comments:
Post a Comment