Hospital Diary part 2

Sunday July 15th.

I sleep through Sunday morning. It is great. it is the most sleep I've had in a week. I realise all my dreams in hospital have involved my being ostracized from various communities and bullied. Hospital is rubbish.

I am surprised at lunchtime to hear one of the short chubby Jamaican nurses tell another short chubby Jamaican nurse that I have pneumonia. I had no idea. I thought I had a kidney infection.

The day is dull. My neighbours snore. I am wet. Always, I am wet. Hot and wet. Cold and wet.

On Sunday evening my enjoyment of the Porridge movie is ruined by my drip machine going into some spastic frenzy of beeping fifteen minutes before the end. Short chubby Jamaican nurses fail to come to my aid. I am pissed off.

At ten o clock my boredom is temporarily alleviated by the arrival of a new recruit - an affable, blonde Jewish gentleman of middling age, who looks about to pass out. The nurses are pissed off as "we have no drip stands." I have a drip stand. My bag of saline wetness and my bag of yellow liquid drugs hang from it, flexing gently, filling me with juice via tubes into my arm. I am lucky. No such luck for the jew. he moans, mournfully - "Ooooh! Mooooh!" It is an odd sound. Like sleepy, weak old people playing tennis. Like an old dying cow.

I watch half of Hero, but it bores me. Hero is like a bad car advert or something. Load of nonsense. TV sucks balls.

Monday July 16th I am woken early by doctornurses. i am freezing cold and drenched with sweat again. The jewish blonde kept me up all night doing his old people playing tennis routine - "Uh! Muh! Ooooh! Mooooh!" He also spent a lot of time kicking the metal chest of drawers next to his bed. But he is silent now. He only makes these silly noises when he is awake. I hope he never wakes up, then I feel bad.

Nobody will change my wet sheets. By 8:30 my neighbour is awake, and making noises like a wounded boar. I wish speedy death on him. He goes to the bathroom, where he makes terrifying noises. He roars with indignity. I feel sorry for him again. "Oooooargh!" he cries "Moooooh!"

I have been reading Cat's Cradle all morning. I am considering becoming a Bokononist. I like this bit: Tiger got to hunt Bird got to fly Man got to sit and wonder - why, why, why?

Tiger got to sleep Bird got to land Man got to tell himself he understand.

At 9 am, the jewish blonde makes an announcement.

"I am sorry to bother you in the night gentlemen."

I feel guilty for wishing death on him.

The very tall pink man with black features, who'd just been complaining about his ruin-ed sleep, accepts the appology on our behalf.

"Shalom," he says and sticks an oar sized thumb up.

The blonde jewish gentleman goes back to his protestations.

"Ooooh! oooooh!"

The huge pink man with black features has the biggest family you have ever seen, they are like the contents of an East end pub on a Friday. They talk to me sometimes.They like my glasses.

I have become known as "Buddy"