It's 11 pm and I'm just back from Hamilton. After "Nil by Mouth" almost all day, they finally decided to give T. dinner at 9pm and try to get him under anesthesia tomorrow. A young lad came in about midday with a crushed toe, so the more urgent cases like him go into theatre first. Fair enough too.
T. is his usual genial smiling self about it all, but tomorrow will be his fifth day in hospital and I know he'd like to get home. He introduced me to the other men in the ward; The Car Accident (arm in two and leg in four places), the Heart (rushing around getting me a chair and talking on the ward phone until the nurses said "This is your last call!"), the Knee Replacement (worried about being bored in retirement "My brain might go to mush") and the Crushed Toe who didn't have much to say at all, unsurprisingly.
They have a nice view from their window, 'though: