(///figure.major.fault – Royal London Hospital, London, UK)
Why has everything changed? It’s still a clinically white room, but I am confined in a small space with clear walls. Have a bit of pink blanket, but where is my pillow? There are people I know around, including some that are real pests. Can do without them.
I want to stand up, but I can’t even sit up. My body and my figure are different. I’ve really shrunk. But I can hear and see better, which is useful. The pains have gone, but so have my hair and teeth. Where are my dentures? Probably been stolen again. Can’t ask questions. Can’t get my mouth to form the words, so not my fault. The only sound I can make is an irritating screaming noise. This seems to have quite pleasing results. Gets them running.
Things have been odd lately. Had difficulty walking. Nobody understood what I was saying (or said they didn’t) but then neither did I sometimes. I need the loo, but I can’t tell anyone. I’ll just have to let it go. I’ve been doing that for a while anyway, so not a major problem Quite fun. Feeling of freedom.
I’m hungry. Hope there’s food soon. Mince and mash as usual. I suppose it’s all I can manage without teeth.
Someone says “She’s the image of Aunt Maud. Same sneer on her face. Hope she won’t be as disagreeable.” How rude. Who said that? I’ll show them disagreeable.
They are talking. “Is her house sold?” “Completing today.” What? Is that my house they mean? How dare they.
I will get my revenge. They’ll see. They’ve got it coming.
Why this location? Guest author Helen Westbrook explains her connection to the Royal London Hospital