Transplant -5: Laminated notices
As I’ve just about exhausted the possibilities of taking photographs from my window, today we take a look inside my
prison cell hospital room. At some of the many laminated notices. There’s one which isn’t laminated, but you’ll have to read on to find out where it is. I am a master of suspense.
I’ve moved the first notice, as it was on the outside of the bathroom door, rather than the inside. The grammar doesn’t seem quite right, but the intent is clear. It’s there to get around a user interface design issue. There’s no need to have a lock on a bathroom door in a private room for one. Everyone respectfully knocks on the main room door before entering anyway.
The second is my favourite notice in the room. It’s really useful. I’ve been doing my exercises every day and they are more exacting than they look for someone in my condition. However, I’m already up to 3 repetitions. I have a walking course around my room that according to fitbit is 30 steps per circuit.
Dear notice, I promise that I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that I do go home.
On the chemo front, the second infusion of Bendamustine went off with out a hitch yesterday. Blood counts are still good. I’m sleeping fairly well, but getting noticeably more tired throughout the day. Thank you to everyone who’s been keeping me distracted by playing “words with friends”. I’ve a horrible feeling that I’m already addicted. The “Shoestring” DVD box set marathon continues. I’ve got as far as “Stamp Duty” – which uses a blue Skoda S100 or S110 in the plot. I learned to drive in one of those a couple of years after the episode was filmed. Except mine was yellow, and naturally, was called gnu.
I’m onto the slightly harder chemo now – 15 minutes of cytarabine, followed by two hours of etoposide this morning. I get a further 15 minutes of cytarabine this evening.