06 July 2009
hanging out in hospitals
[I sent these pictures from my mobile phone to my email address. Oddly, they took a week to arrive. I realise there haven't been any photo-essays lately. Soon, soon!]
Went with the ever-chipper yet ever-so-slightly-chippy boy with only the slightest of chips on his shoulder who lives above a chip-shop to the hospital the other day. We didn't have any fried potatoes. Actually, that's not true as I cruelly ate a packet of salt and vinegar crisps whilst Owen was nil-by-mouth (though I did buy him three Kinder Surprises which he ate 2.5 of immediately after he woke up from the anaesthetic, foul creature that he is!). Anyway, this is Owen doing some kind of Manics tribute with his little spindly hospital wrists:
This was the Rugrats poster that was next to his bed:
New Heights in Adventure!
These toys were there too. Some sort of prudential minimal hygiene voice told me not to touch them. In front of them is my coffee cup which I also drank in front of a nil-by-mouth Owen, but he didn't mind as he doesn't like coffee. I bought it at the PFI Upper Crust on site.
I later plugged my eee to write about Feuerbach into the panel above Owen's bed while he was in surgery, which the nurse told me off for. We were both reading China Mieville's new novel The City and the City. I finished it while we were there and was going to ruin the story for Owen, but they took him away before I could. Needless to say, all was well and we sped back to the chip shop in a taxi driven by a very patient and friendly cabbie who'd had to wait fifteen minutes for me to get the ward-door unlocked by an enphoned-nurse and then steer the wheelchair towards the exit and not the wall, as the first few minutes had seen.
Went with the ever-chipper yet ever-so-slightly-chippy boy with only the slightest of chips on his shoulder who lives above a chip-shop to the hospital the other day. We didn't have any fried potatoes. Actually, that's not true as I cruelly ate a packet of salt and vinegar crisps whilst Owen was nil-by-mouth (though I did buy him three Kinder Surprises which he ate 2.5 of immediately after he woke up from the anaesthetic, foul creature that he is!). Anyway, this is Owen doing some kind of Manics tribute with his little spindly hospital wrists:
This was the Rugrats poster that was next to his bed:
New Heights in Adventure!
These toys were there too. Some sort of prudential minimal hygiene voice told me not to touch them. In front of them is my coffee cup which I also drank in front of a nil-by-mouth Owen, but he didn't mind as he doesn't like coffee. I bought it at the PFI Upper Crust on site.
I later plugged my eee to write about Feuerbach into the panel above Owen's bed while he was in surgery, which the nurse told me off for. We were both reading China Mieville's new novel The City and the City. I finished it while we were there and was going to ruin the story for Owen, but they took him away before I could. Needless to say, all was well and we sped back to the chip shop in a taxi driven by a very patient and friendly cabbie who'd had to wait fifteen minutes for me to get the ward-door unlocked by an enphoned-nurse and then steer the wheelchair towards the exit and not the wall, as the first few minutes had seen.
